Pharaoh's Wife by Félicien Champsaur

Author:Félicien Champsaur
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Coat Press
Published: 2013-08-03T00:00:00+00:00

PART TWO: THE PHARAOH’S KISS

I. The Arrival in Egypt

As soon as they had passed through the Strait of Messina the travelers perceived a new world opening before them. The warm and perfumed atmosphere already reeked of the Orient. In the Liparian archipelago they went past the orange-gardens of Panarea and Stromboli. The dawn rose, blonde and gilded, over lapis-lazuli waves; violet spangles glittered on the waves, scarcely fringed by a fine lace of foam, while the snowy summit of volcano on the horizon—Etna—sparkled like a splendid diamond in the light of the rising sun.

On the ninth of January 1928, Diana set foot on Egyptian soil, with her two companions. Ten years previously, she had made that classic voyage in the company of the Duke of Rutland, and had conserved a rather disgusted memory of it. That journey through the cosmopolitan palaces, with so little relationship to Egyptian life, had not encouraged her to recommence it in the same conditions; finding Alexandria too worldly, she had preferred to disembark at Rosette.

Three automobiles had been loaded on to the largest of the billionairess’s yachts, the Pharaoh—caravans of a sort, designed for speed and habitation—the first for the Duchess and her chambermaid, the second for Adsum and Ormus, and the third for the kitchen and the servants, three of whom were chauffeurs and one a cook. These motor-caravans were a masterpiece of comfort and luxury. Everyone, in accordance with their status, was comfortably accommodated, with the least possible embarrassment.

The disembarkation of the automobiles took some time. Ormus decided to hire a dahabieh to go up the Nile as far as Cairo. The yacht would go through the isthmus of Suez, and reach Djibouti via the Red Sea, where it would wait for the travelers.

Rosette—or Rachid, to give it its Arab name—was a cluster of tall houses of alternating black, red and yellow bricks, pleasantly aligned. The inhabitants having no taste for regularity or uniformity, the overall effect was a veritably fantastic confusion in which cement, brick and wood competed in polychromatic harmonies. Antal Fodor had telegraphed from there to Cairo to hire the dahabieh and the response was immediate; the Ibis would be in Rosette the following morning.

After a stroll in the town, they went back aboard the yacht for dinner.

“I like Rosette much more than Alexandria,” said the Duchess, as she sat down at the table. “Here, one is truly on the threshold of the Orient, whereas in Alexandria, which is an inn for the world, one rubs shoulders with all races.”

“And not typical,” Adsum replied, “for the majority of those who visit Egypt are enfeebled or worn out cosmopolitans who retain no special characteristics.”

“Is a fortune a cause of degeneration then, Master?”

“Yes. Furthermore, marriage between old aristocracies enfeebles their produce. Proof: the representatives of surviving monarchies are all rachitic or idiotic.”

“It’s a good thing for them, then, when decrepit aristocrats marry a daughter of an energetic race along with a fine dowry.”

“Energy is rare nowadays. What is gained through sports is

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