"Ignorant perhaps; but lacking the hypocrisies of civilization. Good God, how it maddens me to hear the smug comments of English travelers concerning the 'natives,' as they call them! There are good and bad among the Egyptians, as there are in any race; but by and large they are an admirable people, friendly, cheerful, loyal, intelligent-when taught -- For centuries these people were oppressed by a vicious, cruel despotism. They are riddled by disease, poverty, and ignorance, but through no fault of their own." He was recovering his confidence. His fists clenched on his knees, he glared at me. I rather liked him for his defense of an oppressed people, but I could not resist baiting him.
"Then you should approve of what we British are doing in Egypt. By assuming responsibility for the finances of the country- "
"Bah," said Emerson vigorously. "Do you think we are acting out of benevolence? Ask the inhabitants of Alexandria how they enjoyed being shelled by British gunboats, two years ago. We are not so uncivilized as the Turk, but we have the same purpose- our own self-interest. And we are letting those imbecile French mismanage the antiquities department! Not that our own so-called scholars are any better."
"Are they all wrong?" I inquired. "All but you?"
My irony went unnoticed. Emerson considered the question seriously.
"There is one young fellow- Petrie is his name- who seems to have some idea of method in archaeology. He is excavating in the Delta this winter. But he has no influence; and meanwhile every year, every passing day sees destruction that cannot be remedied. We are destroying the past! Digging like children for treasure, wrenching objects out of the ground without keeping proper records of how and where they were found…"
I glanced at Evelyn. I could not hear what she and Walter were discussing, Emerson's voice was too loud, but she seemed to find the conversaton enjoyable. I turned my attention back to Emerson, who was still ranting.
"… scraps of pottery! Something should be done with pottery, you know. One should study the various types- discover what kinds of pottery accompany certain kinds of ornaments, weapons, furnishings…"
"For what purpose?"
"Why, there are a dozen purposes. Pottery, like other objects, changes and develops with time. We could work out a basic chronological sequence which would enable us to date not only the pottery, but other objects found with it. And it is not only pottery that can be useful. Every object, every small scrap of the past can teach us something. Most of these objects are now tossed into rubbish heaps, or carried off by ignorant tourists, lost forever to science. Maspero saves only the impressive objects, and half of those are lost or smashed or stolen, in that reputed museum of his."
"I understand," I said. "For example, studies might be made of anatomical remains. The race to which the ancient Egyptians belonged might be ascertained, and the racial mixtures. Are they the same stock today as they were in ancient times? But scholars do not collect bones and mummies, do they, except to display the latter as curiosities."
Emerson's jaw dropped. "Good God," he said. "A woman with an inquiring mind? Is it possible?"
I overlooked the insult, having become interested in what he was saying. I was about to pursue the subject further when there was a dramatic interruption.
Evelyn was sitting next to the sofa, with Walter leaning on the back of her chair. She suddenly started to her feet. Turning, I saw that her face had gone white as linen. She was staring with a fixed look of horror toward the entrance to the room.
I glanced about. The room was crowded with people, but I saw nothing that might explain her agitation. Before I could make a more searching perusal, Evelyn had collapsed onto the floor. When Walter, clumsy with agitation, managed to reach her and raise her in his arms, she was in a dead faint, from which she was restored with some difficulty.
She would not answer our questions; she was only capable of reiterating her desire to return to our rooms.
"Let me carry you," Walter begged. "You are no burden; you cannot walk- "
He put out his arms. She shrank back, as if he had offered to strike her.
"No, no," she gasped. "Amelia will help me. I can walk, indeed I can. Pray do not touch me."
Poor Walter was as white as Evelyn. But there was nothing to be done but accede to her wishes. She walked, falteringly, but without any assistance except mine, to the stairs. As we started up, I had only time to assure Walter that I would let him know next morning how Evelyn was, if he cared to come by.
My maid was waiting when we reached our rooms. Evelyn rejected her attentions, which were given grudgingly enough; she seemed to shrink from any company but mine, but still refused to tell me what was wrong. At her request, I dismissed Travers, telling her to go to bed.
"I believe I will send Travers home," I said, seeking to strike a casual note, since Evelyn would not talk of the matter uppermost in both our minds. "She hates everything- the country, the Egyptians, the boat- "
"And me," said Evelyn, with a faint smile.
"She doesn't think highly of me, either," I said, pleased to see Evelyn regaining her spirits. "We can manage without her quite nicely. I shall make arrangements tomorrow. Evelyn, won't you tell me now- "
"Later," Evelyn said. "I will explain later, Amelia, when I have… Won't you return to the saloon? You were having such a nice talk with Mr. Emerson. I am sure he is still there. You might reassure him and his… You might reassure them, and make my apologies. I am well; I only need rest. I will go straight to bed. I really am quite well."
This speech, delivered in a rapid monotone, was quite unlike the girl I had come to know. I looked at her searchingly; she refused to meet my eyes. I started to speak, fully prepared to break down a reticence which now alarmed me; then came a loud knock at the door of the sitting room.
Evelyn started convulsively. A renewed pallor spread over her face. I stared at her, too bewildered to speak. Who could this visitor be, who knocked so peremptorily? And at such an hour! It was not too late for evening social activities, but it was certainly too late for anyone to be coming to our rooms. I could not believe that Walter's anxiety would drive him to such a step. Moreover, it was clear from Evelyn'sdemeanor that she suspected who the visitor might be, and that her suspicion caused her deep dread.
Her eyes met mine. Her shoulders straightened, and she set her lips in a firm line before she opened them to speak. "Open the door, Amelia, if you will be so good. I am being a miserable coward. I must face this."
I suppose her speech conveyed a clue to my mind. I remember I felt no surprise when I opened the door and saw the man who stood there. I had never seen him before, but his swarthy complexion, his sleek black hair, his bold good looks confirmed the suspicion Evelyn's manner had aroused.
"Ah," I said. "Signor Alberto, I presume."
3
ALBERTO PLACED one hand on his heart and bowed. His look, as well as his manner, verged on insolence; and as his eyes moved from my face toward the inner doorway where Evelyn stood, pale and still as a statue, it was all I could do not to slap him.
"You invite me in?" he asked, looking at me. "I think you prefer I would not speak of matters close to our hearts except in the privacy."
I stepped back; silently I motioned him in; gently I closed the door behind him. I wanted to slam it. Alberto rushed toward Evelyn.
"Ah, my lost darling, my heart's beloved! How can you desert me? How can you leave me with agony for your fate?"
Evelyn raised her hand. Alberto stopped, a few feet away from her. I really believe the rascal would have taken her into his arms if she had not moved. Now he cocked his head on one side and said, in tones of deep reproach, "You push me! You crush me! Ah, I understand. You have found a rich protectress. She gave you gifts and you abandon the poor lover who give only love."