"Paul--I am so wayward to-day, forgive me," she said in a childish,
lisping voice. "See, I will make you forget the rain and damp. Fly with me
to Egypt where the sun always shines."

And Paul, like a sulky, hungry baby, who had been debarred, and now
received its expected sweetmeat, clasped her and kissed her for a few
minutes before he would let her speak.

"See, we are getting near Cairo," she said, her eyes half closed, while
she settled herself among the cushions, and drew Paul down to her until
his head rested on her breast, and her arms held him like a mother with a
child.

Her voice was a dream-voice as she whispered on. "Do you not love those
minarets and towers against the opal sky, and the rose-pink granite hills
beyond? And look, Paul, at this peep of the Nile--those are the
water-buffaloes--those strange beasts--you see they are pulling that
ridiculous water-drawer--just the same as in Pharaoh's time. Ah! I smell
the scent of the East. Look at the straight blue figures, the lines so
pleasing and long. The dignity, the peace, the forever in it all.... Now
we are there. See the brilliant crowd all moving with little haste, and
listen to the strange noise. Look at the faces of the camels, disdainful
and calm, and that of an old devil-man with tangled hair....

"Come--come from this; I want the desert and the Sphinx!

"Ah! it is bright day again, and we have all the green world between us
and the great vast brown tract of sand. And those are the Pyramids
clear-cut against the turquoise sky, and soon we shall be there, only you
must observe this green around us first, my Paul--the green of no other