In Zanthe's case, although he reproached himself for thinking of it, there was a special reason why her attraction for him should decline more swiftly than would that of other beautiful women he had known. When he had met her ten months ago she had been seventeen but by European standards looked to be in her early twenties. She was now eighteen, but in England would not have been put down at less than twenty-five. The cause was her half-Eastern blood and her wholly Eastern upbringing. Eastern women aged much more swiftly than Europeans and Zanthe also had the normal Eastern woman's love of rich foods and sweetmeats. With a true fatalist's disregard for her figure, she ate Rahat Lacoum, sugared nuts and preserved fruits by the pound. It would have been as agonizing for her to deprive herself of them as it would have been for a Frenchman to deny himself wine; so the odds were that by the time she was thirty she would, like most upperclass women of that age in the East, be able only to waddle.
There was also the factor that, unless Georgina would change her mind and have him, Roger had not wanted to marry again; at least, not for another few years and then only should he find someone to whom he was greatly attracted and who would also make a suitable step-mother for his little daughter Susan. And how could Zanth6, with .the best will in the world, be expected to bring up a young English girl fittingly and launch her in Society?
On the other hand, physical attractions apart, Zanthe was of a most lovable disposition, had been well educated by her French mother and was quick to learn. With such qualities, Roger had no doubt that she would take Susan to her heart, prove as good-tempered a wife as any man could wish for and perhaps, after a while, acquire the manners and attitude of mind of an English lady of quality.
In any case, the more he thought about it the more convinced he became that honour demanded that he take a gamble on the future. Zanthe had twice saved his life and now, having severed herself from her own people, all she had in the world were some valuable jewels and himself. Sarodopulous had examined her jewels and had declared that, if sold, they would provide her with a handsome dowry; so, had Roger decided against marrying her, she could have found another husband. But he believed that it would break her heart to have to do so, and after all she had been to him he could not bring himself to do that.
As a result of these deliberations, he broached the subject to her, one afternoon during the first week in July, on the score that, as in another month or six weeks he hoped to be fully restored to health, they ought to begin making plans. Just as he expected, she at once raised the question of religion. He had no intention of becoming a Mohammedan and had thought it probable that, as they would in due course be going to make their home in Europe, she would consent to becoming a Christian.
He was not disappointed in that but, to his surprise and dismay, he met with most determined opposition when, evading the awkward implications of saying he was Church of England, he declared himself to be a Protestant. Zanthe's mother had been brought up as a Roman Catholic, so she respected that faith and was perfectly willing to subscribe to it in order to marry him.
But she had been taught that Protestants of all denominations were as evil as Jews and was greatly shocked to learn that Roger was what Christians of her mother's faith termed a ' heretic '.
During the next few days they had several sessions in which they argued the matter passionately. Zanthe suggested that both of them should become Catholics, but Roger would not hear of it. He was far from being a religious man but, like most Englishmen of his day, had been brought up to regard the Pope as anti-Christ and all his works as of the Devil. Such beliefs, when inculcated young, die hard, and he was fully convinced that he would lose his hope of salvation should he become a Catholic as she was that she would lose hers should she become a Protestant.
The resistance she displayed might have caused another man to have seized on it as an excuse to refuse to pursue matters further, but in Roger it only aroused a determination to make her his wife. He suggested that they should be content with a civil marriage, which was now the normal form of ceremony in Republican France. But Zanthe would not hear of it. She protested that, unless their marriage were blessed either by a Mulim imam or a Catholic priest, it would be no marriage in the sight of Heaven. Then, in tears, she declared that, if Roger were not prepared to sacrifice his scruples to make her his wife, she loved him so dearly that she would accept the terrible humiliation of accompanying him back to France as his concubine.
This impasse continued for some days until on July 11th Roger was given other things to think about. On that day Sir Sidney Smith's Squadron appeared off Alexandria, convoying an armada of transports carrying a considerable Turkish Army. For the past week Roger had been going for short rides, accompanied by a groom. In view of this emergency he felt that, to maintain his status as an aide-de-camp to the General-in-Chief, he must, although still far from strong, offer his services.
Ignoring the protests of Zanthe and the Sarodopulouses, he rode into Alexandria and reported to Marmont, who was now in command there. The young General was a gunner. He was one of Bonaparte's oldest friends and had served with him at the siege of Toulon, where Roger had also met him. Their greeting was cordial but, after one look at Roger, Marmont declared him unfit for active service. However, he said that he would welcome his help in his bureau; so Roger was given a desk and set about dealing with urgent administrative matters.
Couriers had been sent post-haste to Bonaparte at Ghizeh. They reached him on the 15th and he at once set out for Rhmaniyeh. From there, he ordered a concentration of troops headed by Kleber's Division, then at Rosetta. By the 21st he had at his disposal an Army nearly as large as that of the Turks, which was reported to number ten thousand men. Meanwhile the Turks had landed on the peninsular of Aboukir, massacred the garrison of the small fprt there and dug themselves in behind a double line of entrenchments.
On July 25th Bonaparte attacked. Lannes, amazingly recovered from his wounds, and d'Estang outflanked the village which formed the strongpoint centre of the first line of Turkish defences, then Murat followed with his cavalry and drove a great number of the Turks into the sea.
During the terrible heat of midday Bonaparte gave his troops two hours' rest. He then sent them in against the Turks' second line, which had a strong redoubt in its centre. Again the French charged with tremendous elan but this time the attack failed, largely owing to the supporting fire of the Turkish gunboats that had been brought close inshore. The Turks, confident of victory, surged out of their entrenchments, but delayed to butcher the wounded French and mutilate the dead. Seeing them to be scattered while engaged in this barbarous business, Bonaparte ordered another attack. Catching the Turks at a disadvantage, the French reached and seized the second line of trenches. Murat, with his cavalry and camelry, again drove the fleeing Turks into the surf and hundreds of them were either sabred or pursued into deep water until they drowned. Heavy cannon were then brought up to bombard the small fortress into which the surviving Turks had crammed themselves. It became a massacre. After two days, two thousand of the Turks surrendered—all that was left of an Army of ten thousand.
Roger saw nothing of this, but received gruesome accounts of it while working at Alexandria in Marmont's office. The emergency over, he returned to Sarodopulous's villa, a little tired from his exertions but otherwise in good heart, to continue his convalescence.
It was on the day after his return that he had a most unnerving experience. While sitting on the privy, he felt something furry tickling his left buttock. Leaping up, he found it to be a large scorpion. At his sudden action the poisonous beast fell off on to the floor. Next moment he had crushed it with his boot; but he stood there for a few moments, white and shaking. Had it stung him he might have died in agony. Shortly afterwards, on returning to the villa, he told Zanthe of his lucky escape and added: