XII—­IN THE DESERT AND ON THE SEA

By the last train leaving Alexandria for Ramleh, the next evening, Gregorio sought to escape his pursuers.  He had heard from Ahmed on the platform, just before starting, that Xantippe’s body had been discovered, and that already the police were on his track.  He sat in a corner of a third-class carriage closely muffled, and eyeing his neighbours suspiciously.  He sighed with relief as the train moved out of the station and began to pass by the sand-hills and white villas, showing ghost-like in the damp mist.

When he reached St. Antonio he saw the lights of the casino blazing cheerfully, and the pure clear desert air invigorated him.  Fascinated by the glare, he strolled toward the casino and decided, in spite of the risk, to enter.  He watched from a corner the players, and greedily coveted the masses of gold and silver piled in pyramids behind the croupiers.  He heard the violins playing Suppe’s overture, and the remembrance came vividly to him of the Paradiso and the fair girl with whom the Englishman talked.  The exciting events following that evening passed before him—­a lurid panorama.

An hour fled quickly away; then he sought the solitude of the desert, and, having collected into a bag as much food and as many eggs as he could carry, he walked away over the sands.

Under the stars he dug holes wherein to bury the eggs, and marked the spots with stones; then, wrapping himself in his cloak, lay down to sleep.  All next day he loitered idly about, shunning the gaze of every wandering Arab.  When evening came he drew near to the palace to seek for food.  To his horror, the box had not been refilled.  At first he hardly realised how awful was his plight.  Then the truth dawned upon him.  Ahmed and Madam Marx must have been arrested.  He drew near to the casino and stood under the open windows listening.  A cold shudder ran down his back, his face grew pale, and his lips trembled, for he heard two men discussing the murder and the capture of his friends.  An involuntary smile lighted up the gloom of his features for a moment as one remarked that the chief offender, the woman’s husband, had eluded pursuit.  Then he crept back into the desert and waited for the dawn.

The sun rose, fiery and relentless, glittering on the waters of Aboukir, and the cloudless heaven blazed like a prairie on fire.  At midday, when its rays fell straight upon him, his thirst became intense, and with feverish fingers he dug up an egg.  It was empty.  He tossed it away and dragged himself to another hole.  The second egg was empty.  In turn he dug up all his eggs, and all alike were empty.  Improperly sealed, scantily covered by the sand, the water had evaporated.  A great despair seized him; he called on God in his anguish, and the silence of the desert terrified him.  In a fit of desolate anger he pulled off his cap, and summoned