estowed upon him. Or,
perhaps it was inspired by womanly pity for the man whose loneliness was
even greater and graver than her own. The Enemy could do no less than go
to them with his pleasantest acknowledgment. His rugged face relaxed
into a most charming, winsome smile, half-diffident, half-assured.

He passed among the wives of his clients without so much as a sign of
recognition, coolly indifferent to the admiring glances that sought his
face. The dark, langourous eyes that flashed eager admiration a moment
before now turned sullen with disappointment. He had ignored their
owners; he had avoided them as if they were dust heaps in the path; he
had spurned them as if they were dogs by the roadside. And yet he smiled
upon the Englishwoman, he spoke with her, he admired her! The sharp
intake of breath that swept through the crowd told plainer than words
the story of the angry eyes that followed him to the end of the pier,
where the officer's boat was landing.

"I have heard that you expect a visitor," said the Enemy in his most
agreeable manner. Lady Deppingham had just told him that she had a
friend aboard the yacht.

"Won't you go aboard with us," asked Deppingham, at a loss for anything
better to say. The Enemy shook his head and smiled.

"You are very good, but I believe my place is here," he said, with a
swift, sardonic glance toward his herd of followers. Lady Deppingham
raised her delicate eyebrows and gave him the cool, intimate smile of
comprehension. He flushed. "I am one of the lowly and the despised," he
explained humbly.

"The Princess is to be with me for a month. We expect more sunshine than
ever at the chateau," ventured her ladyship.

"I sincerely hope you may be disappointed," said he commiseratingly,
fanning himself with his hat. She laughed and understood, but Deppingham
was half way out to the yacht before it became clear to him that the
Enemy hoped literally, not figuratively.

The Enemy sauntered back toward the town, past and through the staring
crowd of women. Here and there in the curious throng the face of a
Persian or an Egyptian stared at him from among the brown Arabians.
There was no sign of love in the glittering eyes of these trafficked
women of Japat. One by one they lifted their veils to their eyes and
slowly faded into the side streets, each seeking the home she despised,
each filled with a hatred for the man who would not feast upon her
beauty.

The man, all unconscious of