When she had reached the house, she went up at once to her bedroom, shut the door, and stood by the open window that gave on to a balcony which faced towards the Nile. The voices of the shadûf men had now suddenly died away. With the rapid falling of night the singers' time for repose had come; they had slipped on their purple garments, and were walking to their villages. Those other voices drew nearer and nearer, murmuring deeply, rather than actually singing, their fatalistic chaunt which set the time for the oars.
Darkness came. The voices ceased.
Mrs. Armine leaned forward, with one hand on the window-frame. Her white teeth showed on her lower lip.
In the garden she heard two voices talking, and moving towards the house.
* * * * * "Marie! Marie!"
Her maid came running.
"V'là, madame? What does madame want?"
"I am going to change my gown."
"Madame is going to dress for the evening?"
"No. I don't dine for two hours."
"Then madame--"
"Don't talk so much. Get me out a white gown, that white linen gown I got at Paquin's and have never worn yet. And put me out--"
She gave some directions about stockings and shoes, and went in to her dressing-room, where she stood before the mirror, carefully examining her face. Then she took off the hat she was wearing.
"Lock the bedroom door and the door into monsieur's room!" she called, in a moment.
"Bien, madame!"
"Mon Dieu!" muttered the maid, as she went to turn the keys, "is she going mad? What has she? There is no one here, there is no one coming, and all this tohu-bohu!"
"Get out the white hat with the white picotees!"
"Ah, mon Dieu!"
"Do you hear? The white--"
"I hear, I hear, madame! Oh, là, là, là!"
"Make haste!"
"Bien, madame, très bien!"
The girl ran for the hat, and Mrs. Armine, who had lighted all the candles, sat down before the glass. She remembered Nigel's desire expressed to her that day that she would give up "doing things" to her face. Well, she would respond to it in this way!
Very carefully and cleverly she began to whiten her face, to touch up her eyes and her narrow, definite eyebrows.
"All is ready, madame!"
Marie was standing at the dressing-room door; she started and swung round on her heels as there came a knock at the door of the bedroom, the creak of the handle turning.
"Be quiet!"
Mrs. Armine had caught her arm. The girl stood still, staring and marvelling, while her mistress went noiselessly into the bedroom and sat down on the far side of the bed, leaning backwards till her head was near the pillows, which she took care not to touch.