CHAPTER SEVEN

They had started early, for it would be impossible to do anything but lie off in the hours from eleven to three. In this part of the world, few persons made such excursions in July. One day was amply sufficient to reach the temple, and they wanted to enjoy the road and the vistas and viewpoints in the cool of the morning. The ride was, therefore, divided into two five-hour spells: one in the forenoon, the other in the evening hours. Gregor and Diana had taken the lead at first. But the guide persistently encroached upon their duologue, expatiating upon his splendid qualities in an amazing mishmash of languages. This disconcerted the pair, who by degrees allowed the others to overtake them while they dropped to the rear.

The party had swelled to become a veritable caravan, for since the tents and provisions for two days had been packed upon horses, the six westerners required twelve orientals to act as grooms, servants, and guides.

On the previous evening, Captain Kopp had arrived from Berlin to take up his duties as naval attaché, the post having been vacant for several weeks. He immediately presented himself to pay his respects to the ambassador and his wife and to report for duty. His hosts were equally nonplussed, and both cudgelled their brains for a means of ridding themselves of the unwelcome guest. The count felt he could not leave him with Eckersberg in charge at the embassy, for though as military and naval attachés they would naturally be antagonistic, their mutual distrust of "diplomats" would make them allies in this field. First impressions are so important.... If, on the other hand, Kopp came with the party to see the temple, an extra pair of observant eyes would be following every incident.... The countess was thinking: Here is a man who takes his work seriously; he'll plunge into his job without delay so that, after the manner of his kind, when his chief gets back he will be able to say: "I've quite got the hang of things, Your Excellency." They had once before had a man like that, who had often not left his office till late at night, and she was determined that this particular evening there should be no one about to spy upon her. Thus it was that, when the subject of the morrow's excursion came up for discussion, at the dinner table, she turned amiably to the newcomer, and said:

"Of course you will join the party, Captain Kopp? It will give you a chance at the outset of making acquaintance with the interior, and that is not always easy to manage in the height of summer."

"I should be delighted, if His Excellency will not mind my coming..."

Gregor, who had penetrated his wife's manœuvre, glanced at her now across the table. She looked the picture of innocence, but he knew this mood of assumed tranquillity just as well as all her other ruses. He felt obliged to say something:

"A pleasure I assure you, if you feel that so soon after your long journey... It is hard on those not accustomed to the climate...."

"If you have no objection, Sir, I'd like to come."

When their guest had gone, the count turned to his wife, asking indifferently:

"How do you propose spending the next two days?"

"I hardly know."

"Paying calls?"

"No!"

"Expecting any one?"

"Nobody particular. Perhaps I shall ask young Seeland to look in."

"Alone?"

She raised her heavy head. She had hitherto been attentive and watchful, trying to find out if he had any suspicions. Now, however, she said very calmly:

"Of course, if I invite him he'll come alone. You know how much I dislike having more than one guest at a time. Have you any objection?"

"Good-night, Olivia."

"Good-night."

The baroness had at the outset taken possession of Captain Kopp, and all had gone well until she tried to pump him for news of what was going on at the Admiralty. Then, without obvious discourtesy, he drew the Levantine guide into the conversation, plying him with questions which the man was only too eager to answer. This suited the captain, who had joined the party simply in order to learn.

The prince, who had a smattering of the language, liked to gossip with camel drivers, fruit venders, and dragomans. Today, likewise, he would have been better entertained in converse with the horse drivers, but he had first of all to devote himself to the baron, who wished to discuss international politics.

Gregor observed him from the rear and said to Diana:

"Just look at our long-legged prince. What a picture of misery he is on his little Anatolian mount. His feet almost touch the ground. From here he might well pass for Don Quixote--but then Linnartz would have to be promoted to the rôle of Sancho Panza!"

It was eight o'clock. There were two good hours of cool before they need stop; the sun was considerate and the dust not unbearable. The parched, grey steppe stretched away into endless distance, and the low range of hills where they planned to camp that night looked quite unattainable. Diana had discarded the skirt which she had donned to ride through the town, and was now in khaki breeches and jacket, with leggings to the knee. There was nothing to distinguish her as a woman save the soft white-silk collar which peeped above the loose coat. She looked like a boy of sixteen whose parents, in the fondness of their hearts, had not yet had the courage to clip his curls. As always when exploring an unknown countryside, Diana was silent for a while. Those camels on the sky-line looked like some primeval phantasmagoria emerging from the dust-laden air. Then, alert and observant, she plied her companion with questions. While answering her, the count dropped half a length behind, and it seemed to him as he looked at her that he was riding alongside his own son, eager to know. He dwelt for a moment very pleasantly in this vision.

The ironical words he had indulged in anent the prince and the baron were the first he had uttered of a personal nature. Even now she was loath to be distracted from her contemplation of the landscape, which, far from appearing monotonous, seemed filled with strange and wonderful things. It was, therefore, with an effort that she responded to his gayer mood.

"As far as misanthropical outlooks are concerned, our prince would fit the part well, but he is too strongly disillusioned to be a genuine Don Quixote. As for the baron, to turn him into a faithful servitor..."

"You dislike him even more than I, it would appear, and perhaps..."

"Perhaps my dislike for him is greater than his for me? I'll wager he's started intriguing against me already."

"Hardly. But I fancy he must have met you before."

Diana pulled up and forced the count to come alongside.

"Well?" she asked.

"Let me see--was it St. Petersburg he said?"

"He told you--he...?" Diana's tone was so strange that Gregor pricked up his ears.

"Has he any reason to--if I may ask...?"

"Baron Linnartz has dared to..." said Diana, suddenly imitating the shrill manner of an indignant dowager. But Gregor guessed that her merry parody hid real mortification, and he felt incensed against the man who had caused it by such preposterous warnings against her. When next he spoke there was a note of resolution in his voice.

"Would it be too much to ask you for an explanation?"

She evaded the issue by laughing gaily, and setting spurs to her mount.

The little Anatolian horse had been longing for a gallop over the steppe, and eagerly responded to her mood. With curls dancing in the breeze of her own going, she flew past the baroness and Kopp, flew past the prince, the guide, and her personal enemy. Abdul, electrified by this sudden departure, careered at her side, his black ears flapping, his white hindpaws seeming to be several seconds in advance of their dark brothers in front. He sped like a swarthy cloud over the arid plain. For a moment the suddenness of her flight took Gregor so much by surprise that he could only gaze after her, thinking that she looked like a wild creature gone mad with love, or an amazon raging to the attack. Then he, too, set spurs to his horse and galloped after her. The company grew uneasy.

"The count seems to be having a little private racing party on his own," said the baron, who was a poor horseman at the best of times.

"She has a fine seat," murmured the prince emphatically.

"Amazing," observed the captain.

"Yes, she rides well," added the baroness. "One might think one were in a circus. I mean..."

Diana sped onwards, with half-closed eyes, unconscious of everything except the swiftness of her flight and the hound at her side. When at last the count overtook her, she laughed back at him, crying through the dust and whirl raised by their movements, like some uncanny sprite of the wilderness:

"Hello, Count Münsterberg! Hic et ubique! Small horses, but full of fire! A whip! If only I had a whip!"

He tried to pass his to her, but she merely laughed and motioned it away:

"Not now. Then!"

Her horse leapt forward again, and she said no more, though from time to time Abdul's name dropped from her lips.

Gregor was a changed being. As he galloped he forgot the conversation which had immediately preceded the mad ride; and therefore the word "then" she flung at him about the whip was the more puzzling. No matter! His youth rose once more within him with all its madness. It was as if thirty years had fallen away, and he was once more pursuing that woman on horseback--were they not riding through an English park?--who had galloped before him, throwing him words of love over her shoulder. Then, the lady's habit had flapped against the horse's flank, and from under the brim of her stiff hat two grey eyes had peered out, the eyes of a mature and passionate woman. Memories crowded upon him, the wild career to the very door of the house, the dash up the stairs, the tearing off of her riding habit, ten minutes' frenzy, away again, somebody catching sight of him, the challenge, two shots, the husband wounded...

"Am I indeed younger? Has this young amazon, luring me on through the dust and over the steppe, has she gifts to give me such as those of that older woman? I would like to--I will..."

Suddenly Diana's horse shied; it reared, and for a moment things looked nasty. The count sprang to her side.

"Diana," he cried, seizing the rein and pacifying the little animal. As they continued on their way, jogging along at an easy trot, Gregor was a little perturbed at having unintentionally called her by name, and felt distinctly embarrassed as he said:

"What a splendid horsewoman you are! I believe--I do hope you'll forgive me--but you have such a lovely name. How do you like mine?"

"Gregor," whispered she, and he felt happy at the thought that perhaps her lips had already framed the syllables in secret. "Gregor," she repeated, crisply this time, with a glance in his direction. "Something untamed and yet serious--maybe it suits you well these days---- Forgive me my escapade, Count."

Like all men whose conquests have been easily achieved, Gregor was full of hopes. The fact that she had spoken his name was sufficient to confirm him in the belief that she had a liking for him. He pressed closer, so that the horses' flanks were actually in contact, and asked:

"Why don't you call me Gregor again--Diana?"

"Because we are no longer flying over the steppe."

"When shall we fly again?"

"Nikt nie wie."

"What does that mean?"

"It's Polish for: No one knows."

With the neat movement of a jockey, she turned in her saddle and called to the others, though they lagged too far behind to hear her words:

"Come on! Can't any of you ride? Is he the only one who can ride?"

Then she said abruptly, with a twinkle in her eyes:

"That reminds me. Baron Linnartz, St. Petersburg, Grand Hotel. I owe you an explanation. Well, here goes! Some one with an aggressively scrubby moustache keeps his eyes on me morning, noon, and night, for a whole fortnight. Tries every method of approach. Then one evening I come from the drawing-room, it's very late, I get into the lift--the baron! I'd noticed him doing sentry-go as it were for hours down below. He does not get out at his floor but at mine. Follows me along the passage to my room. I open the door, enter, and turn to close it again. Suddenly someone springs forward, comes right into the room, seizes hold of me, throws me on to the sofa. It takes me several seconds before I can get my teeth into his hand. A bite, he kisses, lets go. I am still lying under him, but I get one hand free, then the other. I grip him by the throat, so!--When his face was blue and he began to gasp, I released him. I had no whip. He slunk away.--Since then I never go about alone without this little fellow." She drew a small revolver from her pocket, then in a loud voice she exclaimed: "And that's the man, Count Münsterberg, who is doing his best to discredit you at headquarters!"

Gregor quickly surveyed the situation. It placed the baron in a new light, for the count never doubted the truth of the St. Petersburg incident. He was more deeply than ever intrigued by the many-sided personality of his companion. This was now the sixth time they had seen each other, and at each encounter she had presented herself in a different guise. How coolly she had related the unpleasant adventure! And those last words, the way she had referred to headquarters--only a person well versed in politics could have put all the implications she had into that brief assertion. She seemed disposed to be silent now, turned her horse about, and slowly rode back to rejoin the others.

"Who won?" cried the prince as they drew near. "Abdul seems to have doubled the parts of starter and judge!"

"Mademoiselle, of course; she won by I don't know how many lengths," said Gregor beaming at the prince. He was specially grateful that Diana's escapade should have been so deftly handled and its apparent hoydenishness masked by a well-turned joke.

They pitched their camp at noon beneath a cluster of tall eucalyptus trees which were distinguishable from the all-pervading grey of the surrounding vegetation only by their height and by the rustling of their long, thick leaves. Otherwise everything seemed to consist of sand and dust. The midday heat shimmered over the steppe; far away on the horizon, faint, undulating lines were dimly visible. Could they be hills? A few clay walls spoke of scattered villages nestling among sparse clumps of trees. Grey horses and drab camels browsed in countless numbers on the parched herbage, or stalked in long processions like ghosts across the waste.

The guide had hoped to find a spring at this spot, where he could water the horses. But there proved to be too little flow, and the beasts had to be taken farther afield. The human travellers, however, fared well, for they had brought every imaginable thing with them, not forgetting the most important item of all: ice. The cloth was spread in the marquee, and the food was appetizing. But the heat was too oppressive for much talk; indeed, at this moment they were all wishing they had not set forth on the excursion.

Diana had donned her skirt again, and was on her best behaviour, demure, and endeavouring in every way to fall in with the baroness's humour. Both Gregor and the prince were puzzled as to what she was thinking about. "I wonder whether the recalling of that incident has upset her," mused the count, "or whether the presence of the baron is making her reserved?" When the meal was over, each one sought relaxation, some in sleep, others in quiet talk. Kopp came over to Diana and sat beside her, puffing away at his cigarette.

"I say, I'd give anything to ride like that," he began.

She laughed, trying to turn the matter off.

"I expect you won a prize or two in Kiel?"

"Yes, a few. I bet you know how to sail a boat."

"I'm fond of the sea."

"Been far afield?"

"Fairly."

"Indian Ocean?"

"No. The Atlantic."

"Some day you must go sailing in the Indian Ocean. That's the finest of them all."

"Tell me about it."

Diana was a good listener as well as an eager questioner, so Kopp began to tell his story, haltingly at first, in fragmentary fashion, like others of the seafaring confraternity. And all the while she was listening, her thoughts travelled vaguely to and fro. "Here I lie in a tent on an eastern steppe, and this seafarer is telling me of shellfish and pearls, of sharks and torches, while over there sits the count discussing business matters with the baron, hate in his heart, hated in his turn by Linnartz, and thinking of me by name. Did he not call me by my name as if I were a friend of long standing, as if he wished to guard me, and yet with the pertness of a boy? Nikt nie wie!"

The count liked Captain Kopp. True, he had found the newcomer's bald bullet head rather comical at first, but it did not take the count long to detect the man's sterling worth. When they broke camp in the cool of the afternoon, he made a point of riding next his naval attaché.

"Have you had an opportunity for a talk with any of our people lately, Captain?" he asked. "Seen the foreign secretary, for instance?"

"About three weeks ago. Dinner together at the club. Hardly had a word with him."

"He's said to be very pessimistic, eh?"

"I fancy he is. Some one who had just been having a long talk with him said he saw everything through grey spectacles. Herr Scherer it was who made the remark."

"Ah, yes. I know."

"A most interesting man, that."

"I feel sure he is.--What does Herr Scherer think about the situation here?"

"Scherer has absolute confidence in what Your Excellency does."

As a rule the count disliked compliments; he knew too well their insincerity, especially when paid to a man in his position. But this captain with the bullet head was so simple and so obviously sincere; Münsterberg could only be interested.

"Did Scherer say that?" he asked.

"Yes, he did."

The three words were spoken with the deliberation of a man who knew how much worth his interlocutor would place upon them. Gregor was satisfied. He broke off his talk with the captain in order to rejoin Diana who was riding with the baroness. The younger woman had been making vain attempts to draw the lady out. As the count came alongside, he said:

"Have you ever made a study of archæology?"

"Oh no, I'm only an amateur."

"That's much the pleasantest way of getting to know things," commented the baroness with a note of hostility in her voice. "When one is free to travel about the world--to study the world..."

"Yes, travelling is a good master," interrupted Diana, controlling an impulse to retaliate, and speaking in quiet, conventional tones.

"But somewhat exhausting," said Gregor.

He and Diana trotted forward alone.

"So you have known Scherer some time," he said after a pause.

"Not long."

"Is he interested in artistic matters also?"

"He is a thinker."

Her answer disquieted Gregor. Somehow he felt she was making comparisons, and his pride forbade him to accept a subordinate place in the estimation of such a woman as Diana.

"How do you make that out...?"

She guessed that he was piqued, and answered soothingly:

"Surely his way of looking at the world is enough to prove it."

"Yes; but suppose some one has, by devoting his whole life, chary of words but prolific in deeds, by his decisions and his enterprise, supposing such a one, too, has built up a world...?"

"He'd just be a good business man," retaliated Diana, "and Herr Scherer is that in addition to all his other qualities."

Gregor was not satisfied. He rode on for a while rather moodily, and then resumed:

"Which sort do you prefer?"

"So much depends on the time and the place, upon the wind, and the stars...."

"Let us say: Today!"

"Today I am thinking of the better rider," laughed Diana.

The steppe had cooled down, and riding was pleasant now. At certain spots where water was abundant, the evergreen plants looked fresh, and their stunted forms peeped through the trees and the stones. There were tiny ilexes and myrtles; even a laurel here and there. The shadows of the trees were lengthening over the plain, and the hills seemed within a hopeful distance. Every one felt that the worst part of the journey was over, that the reward of their efforts was at hand, and that tomorrow's return to the town overlooking the water would be easy. Soon after six, when the sun was sinking and the plain was taking on a myriad new and glowing hues, when the fresh breeze came from the hills, the spirits of the company rose, and conversation flowed once more. They spoke sceptically of the prospects of sleep under canvas that night; they sentimentalized about the temple. Kopp said:

"I've been told that this place is red with poppies in April."

"But it is only at this time of the year that you find the place so exquisitely covered with dust that it looks one vast uniform mass," added the prince. "Only now! I could ride for weeks on end through this dusty steppe; heat and dust are such admirable adjuncts to muddy thinking."

"You are pleased to be paradoxical," protested the baroness. "Everything in this country is far more poetical in April."

"I am the enemy of all that smacks of poetry, Baroness; still more do I hate the romantic. I'm thinking of starting an insurance scheme to protect the world against falsification of nature by means of moonrises, stars, colours, and the like."

Diana laughed heartily; the baroness tried to giggle, but the dust had dried her throat and her effort was futile. Gregor was busily going this way and that in search of a good camping ground. Nor would he allow his three attachés to help him. Then he made them all turn back a little way, and finally gave them leave to dismount. There was a bustle of preparation, the horses were unsaddled and watered, the tents were pitched. The count was suddenly pensive. After a while he called out:

"There are four; that's fine!"

To which the baroness made reply:

"Yes, splendid. One for you, one for the prince, one for us two women, and the fourth will be shared by the captain and my husband."

"Pas du tout, Madame," the count was quick to interpose, for he had expected the baroness to suggest such an arrangement. "I could never forgive myself if two married folk like you and my dear Linnartz were divorced from one another's arms even for one night. You and your husband must have the large tent; the other big one must be shared by the prince and the captain--if they don't mind sleeping together? Otherwise, I shall be delighted to berth with one or the other."

"Of course, of course," chimed in the two men with one voice.

"Very well; and I'll have the little one to myself." He stopped abruptly, for he was loath to couple Diana's name with his own. But the prince, realizing what was in his chief's mind, added with a spice of malice:

"What about the fourth? Ah, yes, of course, I'm so sorry, of course that will be for Fräulein de Wassilko."

For an hour past Gregor had been making his plans, and had chosen a site that suited them admirably. It was a narrow strip of level, lying in a semicircle intersected by mounds which cut the camp up into sections. He contrived to have his tent pitched at the lower end, then the other small one. The horses were to be littered down next this, separating them from the two large tents at the other end of the passage. But when the work was done and they came to inspect it, he assumed a wrath he was far from feeling:

"What's this!" he exclaimed. "Those two little tents have been put up in the place where I had ordered the big tent to be pitched. We'll have to start over again. What a nuisance! Oh, well, perhaps we can manage after all. Or shall I get them changed?"

"Capital as they are," some one exclaimed.

They ate their supper on the slope of a hill, and watched the daylight fade while the moon rose. Diana was very quiet, almost one might say absent-minded. She ran her fingers through the herbage, picked the twigs from off her rug, whispered to the night-birds and the beasts that came shyly peering round the rocks, stroked the long velvety ears of the greyhound. They all sought their tents while the night was young, for they wished to be afoot before sunrise. Gregor called for a bowl of water, then sent the man away to sleep. He himself kept vigil. Should he venture? Was he really more than twenty-five? Was he his own son? He felt so young and could think of nothing but the moment when she had uttered his name as she flew over the steppe: "Gregor!"

Diana had closed her tent in order to discard her habit and slip into a cool, silk kimono. Now she flung back the flap and sat on the ground at the mouth of the tent in the crouching attitude of a gypsy. She slowly rolled back her wide sleeves, thinking the while: "How well this orange-coloured silk matches the tent and the steppe." As her gaze travelled to the sky and over the moon-shriven land, she had hardly a thought in her head. Then, suddenly, she was musing again: "How otherwise account for all these preparations? ... Can a woman ever truly know the man who desires her without first giving him what he wants? ... He has a finely turned leg, and there's a look of youth in his blue eyes, and he rides as well as I, better than any man I've known since Bogdanoff, the maddest of lovers.... Of one thing at least I am certain: grey locks make a stronger appeal to me this night than any fair head could...."

Gregor made a tour of the camp before turning in. He took mental note of where each tent stood. Then he secured Abdul to a tree at the farther end of the camp, bidding him lie down and be quiet. Slowly he returned to his tent. He waited. One by one the lights were extinguished, silence brooded over the land, only the horses, rubbing their heads together, made a soft, velvety sound. Diana's tent was dark. Was she sitting within, dreaming? Or was she waiting--for him? Had she not once spoken words of condemnation against women who were "prim and prudish"? Was she unaware of the effect such words would have upon a man of his temperament? There had been no preliminary skirmishes. Everything would depend on the success of one single move. He had to take a risk such as, owing to his position, he had not ventured for at least twenty years--or was it only fifteen since he had given chase to the beautiful Beata...?

This last memory stirred the fires of his imagination. He rose and stood for a while at the mouth of the tent, listening. As if the better to hear, he raised himself on the tips of his toes. Then he fastened his tent from without, and crept softly towards the spot where her tent reared its point into the night sky. Two resolute strides brought him to the entry. He seized the tapes and secured the flap behind him. He was inside.