Ziska, The Problem of a Wicked Soul - Page 70/76

He shook himself with the action of a fine brute that has been stung by some teasing insect, and, mastering his emotions by an effort, walked away. But he was so absorbed in strange thoughts, that he stumbled up against Denzil Murray in a side street on the way to the Gezireh Palace Hotel without seeing him, and would have passed him altogether had not Denzil somewhat fiercely said: "Stop!"

Gervase looked at him bewilderedly.

"Why, Denzil, is it you? My dear fellow, forgive me my brusquerie! I believe I have got a stroke of the sun, or something of the sort; I assure you I hardly know what I am doing or where I am going!"

"I believe it!" said Denzil, hoarsely. "You are as mad as I am-- for love!"

Gervase smiled; a slight incredulous smile.

"You think so? I am not sure! If love makes a man as thoroughly unstrung and nervous as I am to-day, then love is a very bad illness."

"It is the worst illness in the world," said Denzil, speaking hurriedly and wildly. "The most cruel and torturing! And there is no cure for it save death. My God, Gervase! You were my friend but yesterday! I never should have thought it possible to hate you!"

"Yet you do hate me?" queried Gervase, still smiling a little.

"Hate you? I could kill you! You have been with HER!"

Quietly Gervase took his arm.

"My good Denzil, you are mistaken! I confess to you frankly I should have been with HER--you mean the Princess Ziska, of course- -had it been possible. But she has fled the city for the moment-- at least, according to the corpse-like Nubian who acts as porter."

"He lies!" exclaimed Denzil, hotly. "I saw her this morning."

"I hope you improved your opportunity," said Gervase, imperturbably. "Anyway, at the present moment she is not visible."

A silence fell between them for some minutes; then Denzil spoke again.

"Gervase, it is no use, I cannot stand this sort of thing. We must have it out. What does it all mean?"

"It is difficult to explain, my dear boy," answered Gervase, half seriously, half mockingly. "It means, I presume, that we are both in love with the same woman, and that we both intend to try our chances with her. But, as I told you the other night, I do not see why we should quarrel about it. Your intentions towards the Princess are honorable--mine are dishonorable, and I shall make no secret of them. If you win her, I shall ..."