"Are you ever afraid?" she had asked suddenly--"not of the ordinary
performance, but of that last act, when you dine all alone with them?"
The girl shrugged her shoulders, blowing a little cloud of smoke into
the cub's face, and her eyes had met Diana's slowly over his little
yellow body. "One does not taste very much," she had said drily.
And it was so with Diana. She had eaten mechanically everything that
had been put before her, but she had tasted nothing. She had one
thought in her mind that excluded everything else--to hide from the
probing eyes that watched her ceaselessly the overmastering fear that
augmented every moment. One thing she had noticed during the meal. For
her only the servant poured out the light French wine that he had
brought. Her eyes wandered to the Sheik's empty glass, and meeting her
glance he smiled, with a little inclination.
"Excuse me. I do not drink wine. It is my only virtue," he added, with
a sudden gleam leaping into his eyes that drove the blood into her
cheeks and her own eyes on to her plate.
She had forgotten that he was an Arab.
The dinner seemed interminable, and yet she wished that it would never
end. While the servant was in the room she was safe; the thought of his
going sent a cold shudder through her. With the coffee came a huge
Persian hound, almost upsetting the Frenchman in the entrance in his
frantic endeavour to precede him through the doorway. He flung his long
grey body across the Sheik's knees with a whine of pleasure and then
turned his head to growl at Diana. But the growl died away quickly, and
he lumbered down and came to her side curiously, eyeing her for a
moment and then thrusting his big head against her.
The Sheik laughed. "You are honoured. Kopec makes few friends."
She did not answer. The natural reply was almost certain to provoke a
retort that she did not desire, so she remained silent, smoothing the
hound's rough coat. With her heart turning slowly to lead she lingered
over her coffee until there was no further possible pretext for
remaining at the table, then rose with a short, sharp sigh.
For some minutes the Sheik had sat silent, his own coffee long since
finished. He made no comment when she got up, and went himself to the
big divan, followed by the hound, who had gone back to him as soon as
he moved.
Diana turned to the little bookcase, snatching at the opportunity it
offered for further silence, and took a book at random. She did not
know what she was looking at, she did not care. She only prayed
fervently that she might be left alone, that the sudden silent fit that
had come over him might continue.