Said Hitani waited for Mrs. Shiffney"s answer with a slightly judicial air, moving his head as if in approval of the tarah-player"s forethought.
"I"m afraid they can"t."
The tarah-player spoke again.
"He says, can they go on donkeys?"
"No. It is further than Paris, tell him."
"Then they must go on the sea. Paris is across the sea."
"Yes, they will have to take a steamer."
At this juncture it was found that the tarah-player would not be of the party.
"He says he would be very sick, and no man can play when he is sick."
"What will Madame pay?" interposed Said Hitani.
Mrs. Shiffney declared seriously that she would think it over, make a calculation, and Amor should convey her decision as to price to him on the morrow.
All seemed well satisfied with this. And the tarah-player remarked, after a slight pause, that he would wait to know about the price before he decided whether he would be too sick to play in London. Then, at a signal from Said Hitani, they all took up their instruments and played and sang a garden song called _Mabouf_, describing how a Sheik and his best loved wife walked in a great garden and sang one against the other.
"It has been quite delicious!" said Mrs. Shiffney to Claude, when at last the song _Au Revoir_, tumultuously brilliant with a tremendous crescendo at the close, had been played, and with many salaams and good wishes the musicians had departed.
"I love their playing," Claude answered. "But really you shouldn"t have paid them. I have arranged with Hitani to come every evening."
"Oh, but I paid them for wanting to know whether they could go to London on camels. What a success your opera ought to be if you have got a fine libretto."
They were just leaving the cafe.
"Do let us stand by the wall for a minute," she added. "By that tree. It is so wonderful here."
Claude"s guide, Aloui, had come to accompany him home, and was behind with Amor. They stayed in the doorway of the cafe. Mrs. Shiffney and Claude leaned on the wall, looking down into the vast void from which rose the cool wind and the sound of water.
"What would I give to be a creative artist!" she said. "That must add so much meaning to all this. Do you know how fortunate you are? Do you know you possess the earth?"
The sable sleeve of her coat touched Claude"s arm and hand. Her deep voice sounded warm and full of genuine feeling. A short time ago, when she had come into the cafe, he had been both astonished and vexed to see her. Now he knew that he had enjoyed this evening more than any other evening that he had spent in Constantine.
"But there are plenty of drawbacks," he said.
"Oh, no, not real ones! After this evening--well, I shall wish for your success. Till now I didn"t care in the least. Indeed, I believe I hoped you never would have a great success."
She moved slightly nearer to him.
"Did you?" he said.
"Yes. You"ve always been so horrid to me, when I always wanted to be nice to you."
"Oh, but--"
"Don"t let us talk about it. What does it matter now? I thought I might have done something for you once, have helped you on a little, perhaps.
But now you are married and settled and will make your own way. I feel it. You don"t want anyone"s help. You"ve come away from us all, and how right you"ve been. And Charmian"s done the right thing, too, giving up all our nonsense for your work. Sacrifice means success. You are bound to have it. I feel you are going to. Ah, you don"t know how I sometimes long to be linked, really linked, to the striving, the abnegation, the patience, the triumph of a man of genius! People envy my silly little position, as they call it. And what is it worth? And yet I do know, I have an instinct, a flair, for the real thing. I"m ignorant. I can dare to acknowledge it to you. But I can tell what is good and bad, and sometimes even why a thing is good. I"m led away, of course. In a silly social life like mine everybody is led away. We can"t help it. But I could have been worth something in the art life of a big man, if I"d loved him."
How soft sable is against a hand!
"I"m sure you could," Claude said.
"And as it is--"
She stopped speaking abruptly. Then with a marked change of voice she said:
"Oh, do forgive me for committing the unpardonable sin--babbling about myself! You"re the only person I have ever--Forget all about it, won"t you? I don"t know why I did it. It was the music, I suppose, and the strangeness of this place, and thinking of your work and your hopes for the future. It made me wish I had some too, either for myself or for--for someone like you."
As if irresistibly governed by feeling her voice had again changed, become once more warm as with emotion. But now she drew herself up a little and laughed.
"Don"t be afraid! It"s over! But you have had a glimpse no one else has ever had, and I know you"ll keep it to yourself. Let"s talk of something else--anything. Tell me something about your libretto, if you care to."
As they walked slowly toward the heart of the city, followed by the two Arabs, she took Claude"s arm, very naturally, as if half for protection, half because it was dark and false steps were possible.
And he told her a good deal, finally a great deal, about the libretto.
"It sounds wonderful!" she said. "I"m so glad! But may I give you a little bit of advice?"
"Yes, do."
"Don"t say anything about it to Henriette--Madame Sennier."
"No. But--"
"Why not? I scarcely know. My instinct! Don"t!"
"I won"t," Claude said.
"I"d give anything to read it. But if I were you I wouldn"t let anyone read it. As you probably know, I"m in half the secrets of the artistic world, and always have been. But there isn"t one woman in a hundred who can be trusted to hold her tongue. Is this the hotel? Good-night. Yes, isn"t it a delicious coat? _Bonne nuit_, Amor! _a demain!_"
A minute later Mrs. Shiffney tapped at Henriette"s door, which was immediately opened.
"It is all right," she whispered. "I shall have the libretto to-morrow."
CHAPTER XXIII
Two days later Mrs. Shiffney slipped Gillier"s libretto surrept.i.tiously into Claude"s hand.
"It"s splendid!" she almost whispered. "With such a libretto you can"t fail."