“I am of the desert, O! my woman, of the sandstorm and the winds, the rocks, and the heat—­I have no desire this night for soft cushions, nor for the fragrance of the hanging curtains of your chamber.  I love you, Allah, and this time I will not wait.  You have played with me for many moons!  Not even once have I laid my lips upon even the whiteness of your hand since Allah in His greatness made you my wife in the name before the law.  At your wish I have denied myself all, until I have longed to bring you to my feet with the lash of the whip—­yet have I waited, knowing that the moment of your surrender would be the sweeter for it.

“And the spirits of the past shall be your hand-maidens, and the moon shall be your lamp, and the sand shall be your marriage-couch this night—­and I, O! woman—­I shall be your master.”

And who knows if it was not love who wrought upon the granite until the Sphinx was born?  For after all Love is eternal, and eternity is Love.

CHAPTER XXXVI

The silver shafts of the full moon struck down into the ruined outer courts of the Temple of Khafra, turning the rose-colour of the granite to a dull terra-cotta, and picking out the pavement with weird designs of gigantic beasts and flowers, the which, when Jill put her foot upon them, proved to be nothing more harmful than the shadows thrown by the walls and huge blocks of fallen masonry.

Slowly she crossed the court and as slowly climbed the incline leading to the chambers of long dead priests and priestesses, pausing at the opening with a little catch of the breath, and a quick glance at the man she loved beside her.

The darkness of Egypt is a common enough expression on the lips of those who know nothing of what they are talking about, and Jill, who had often used the words, stood transfixed at the abysmal blackness in front of her.

Outside it was as clear as day, inside it was darker than any night, and like a flash, the girl compared it with her life at that very moment.

Up to now she had been her own mistress, in that she had deliberately and of her own free will done the things she ought and ought not to have done, and had been content with the result.

True, she was married to the man beside her, bound to him by law, his in the eyes of the world, and of Allah Who is God, but she knew full well that until she called to him and surrendered herself in love, that she was as free as any maiden could be in that land, and, she thought, that doubtless in time he would tire of her caprice and let her go, taking unto himself another as wife.  In which surmise she was utterly mistaken!

Should she move forward into the darkness?  Should she turn back into the light?

If she crossed the threshold she knew she would seek the protection of his arms against the threatenings of the shadows which surely held the spirits of the past; and in his arms, why! even at the thought her heart leapt and her face burned beneath the veil.