as gregorio entered the room, xantippe, who was kneeling by a box into which she was placing clothes neatly folded, turned her head and said laughingly:
“you are impatient, my friend; i have nearly—”
but recognising gregorio, she did not finish the sentence. she sat down on the edge of the box. her face became white, and the blood left her lips. with a great effort she remained quiet and folded her hands on her lap.
gregorio looked at her for a moment, a cruel smile making his sinister face appear almost terrible, and his bloodshot eyes glared at her savagely. at last he broke the silence by shouting her name hoarsely, making at the same time a movement toward her. he looked like a wild animal about to spring upon his prey. xantippe, however, did not flinch, answering softly:
“i am not deaf. what do you want here?”
“it is my room; i suppose i have a right to be here.”
“i apologise for having intruded.”
“none of your smooth speeches. the englishman has schooled you carefully, i see. can you say ‘good-bye’ in english yet?”
“why should i say ‘good-bye’?”
“it is time. you will come back to me now.”
“never.”
gregorio laughed hysterically and stood beside her. his fingers played with her hair. in spite of her fear lest she should irritate him, xantippe shrank from his touch. gregorio noticed her aversion and said savagely:
“you must get used to me, xantippe. from to-night we live together again. it is not necessary now for you to earn money.”
“i shall not come back to you. i have told you i hate you. it is your own fault that i leave you.”
“it will be my fault if you do leave me.”
he pushed her on to the mattress and held her there.
“let us talk,” he said.
for a few minutes there was silence, and then he continued:
“amos is dead, and our debts are paid.”
“how did you pay them?”
“with this,” and as he spoke he touched the handle of his knife. “don’t shudder; he deserved it, and i shall be safe in a few days. these affairs are quickly forgotten. besides, there is another reason why we should not live as we have lately been living.”
xantippe opened her eyes as she asked, “what reason?”
gregorio relaxed his hold, for the memory of his loss shook him with sobs. cat-like, xantippe had waited her opportunity and sprang away from his grasp. the movement brought the man to his senses. he rushed at her with an oath, waving the knife in his hand. xantippe prepared to defend herself. they stood, desperate, before each other, neither daring to begin the struggle. through the awful silence came the sound of sobs and a plaintive voice crying:
“gregorio, come back, leave her; i love you.”
“is madam marx outside?” hissed xantippe.
“yes.”
“then go to her. i tell you i hate you.” she pointed to the half-filled box—“i was going to leave here to-night. i will never return to you.”
“you were going with the englishman?”
“he is a man.”
gregorio paused a moment, then in a suppressed voice, half choking at the words, said:
“our son—do you know what has happened to him? you shall not leave me.”
“i know about our son. i am glad to think he is away from your evil influence. let me pass.” xantippe moved toward the door, but gregorio seized her by the throat.
“you are glad our son is killed; you helped amos to kill him.”
rage and despair impelled him. laughing brutally, he struck her on the breast, and, as he tottered, sent his knife deep into her heart. for a few seconds he stood over her exulting, and then opened the door. madam marx, white with fear, rushed into the room. seeing the murdered woman, a look of triumph came into her eyes. but it was a momentary triumph, for she realised at once the gravity of the crime. she had little pity or sorrow to waste on the dead, but she was full of concern for the safety of the murderer.
“this is a bad night’s work, gregorio.”
“is it? she deserved death. i am glad i killed her. god, how peacefully i shall sleep tonight!”
“this is a worse matter than the other, my friend; you must get away from here at once.”
“let us leave the corpse; i am thirsty,” gregorio answered, callously. with a last look at xantippe dead upon the floor, the two left the room and made fast the bolt before descending the stairs. as they emerged from the doorway into the street, some police rode by, and gregorio trembled a little as he stood watching them.
“i want a drink; i am trembling,” he said, huskily, and followed madam marx into the shop.
the sun was beginning to rise, and already signs of a new life were stirring. the day-workers appeared at the windows and in the streets.
“you must get away at night, gregorio, and keep hidden all day.”
“all right. give me some wine. i can arrange better when my thirst is satisfied.”
after drinking deeply he turned and laughed. “it has been a busy time since sunset.”
then, as if a new idea suddenly struck him, he queried cunningly, “there will be a reward offered?”
“i suppose so.”
“then you will be a rich woman.”
madam marx flung herself at his feet and wept bitterly. the blow was a cruel one indeed. eagerly she entreated him to retract his words. she reminded him of all she had done for him, of all she would still do. a sort of eloquence came to her as she pleaded her cause, and gregorio, weary with excitement, kissed her as he asked:
“but why should you not give me up?”
“because i love you.”
neither blood nor cruelty could stain him in her eyes.
at last her passion spent itself; calmed and soothed by gregorio’s caress she realised again the danger her lover ran. vainly were plans discussed; no fair chance of escape seemed open. at last gregorio said:
“i shall leave here to-night for ramleh and live in the desert for a time. if you help me we can manage easily. when my beard is grown i can get back here safely enough, and the matter will be forgotten. you must collect food and take it by train to the last station, and get the box buried by ahmed near the palace. i can creep toward it at night unseen.”
“but i will come to you at night and bring food and drink.”
“no. that would only attract attention. you must not leave your customers. but the drink is the worst part of the matter. i must have water. get as many ostrich-eggs as you can, and fill them with water, and seal them. hide these with the food, and i will carry some of them into the farther desert and bury them there.”
“gregorio, if all comes right you will not be sorry you killed her?”
“she hated me. i shall not be sorry.”
and madam marx smiled and forgot her fears.
