The soul of Lilith — Themes and Context

Râmi was gone. Silently and without adieu he had departed, having seen his word fulfilled.

“Who is the gentleman that has just left you?” asked Miss Chester, smiling prettily up into Vaughan’s eyes, as she accepted his proffered arm to lead her to her carriage,--“Such a distinguished-looking dreadful person!”

Vaughan smiled at this description.

“He is certainly rather singular in personal appearance,” he began, when his cousin, Lord Melthorpe, interrupted him.

“You mean El-Râmi? It was El-Râmi, wasn’t it? Ah, I thought so. Why did he give us the slip, I wonder? I wish he had waited a minute--he is a most interesting fellow.”

“But who is he?” persisted Miss Chester. She was now comfortably ensconced in her luxurious brougham, her mother beside her, and two men of “title” opposite to her--a position which exactly suited the aspirations of her soul. “How very tiresome you both are! You don’t explain him a bit; you only say he is ‘interesting,’ and of course one can see that; people with such white hair and such black eyes are always interesting, don’t you think so?”

“Well, I don’t see why they should be,” said Lord Melthorpe dubiously. “Now, just think what horrible chaps Albinos are, and they have white hair and pink eyes----”

“Oh, don’t drift off on the subject of Albinos, please!” pleaded Miss Chester, with a soft laugh. “If you do, I shall never know anything about this particular person--El-Râmi, did you say? Isn’t it a very odd name? Eastern, of course?”

“Oh yes! he is a pure Oriental thoroughbred,” replied Lord Melthorpe, who took the burden of the conversation upon himself, while he inwardly wondered why his cousin Vaughan was in such an evidently taciturn mood. “That is, I mean, he is an Oriental of the very old stock, not one of the modern Indian mixtures of vice and knavery. But when he came from the East, and why he came from the East, I don’t suppose any one could tell you. I have only met him two or three times in society, and on those occasions he managed to perplex and fascinate a good many people. My wife, for instance, thinks him quite a marvellous man; she always asks him to her parties, but he hardly ever comes. His name in full is El-Râmi-Zarânos, though I believe he is best known as El-Râmi simply.”

“And what is he?” asked Miss Chester. “An artist?--A literary celebrity?”

“Neither, that I am aware of. Indeed, I don’t know what he is, or how he lives. I have always looked upon him as a sort of magician--a kind of private conjurer, you know.”

“Dear me!” said fat Mrs. Chester, waking up from a semi-doze, and trying to get interested in the subject. “Does he do drawing-room tricks?”

“Oh no, he doesn’t do tricks;” and Lord Melthorpe looked a little amused. “He isn’t that sort of man at all; I’m afraid I explain myself badly. I mean that he can tell you extraordinary things about your past and future----”

“Oh, by your hand--_I_ know!” and the pretty Idina nodded her head sagaciously. “There really is something awfully clever in palmistry. _I_ can tell fortunes that way!”

“Can you?” Lord Melthorpe smiled indulgently, and went on,--“But it so happens that El-Râmi does not tell anything by the hands,--he judges by the face, figure, and movement. He doesn’t make a profession of it; but, really, he does foretell events in rather a curious way now and then.”

“He certainly does!” agreed Vaughan, rousing himself from a reverie into which he had fallen, and fixing his eyes on the small _piquante_ features of the girl opposite him. “Some of his prophecies are quite remarkable.”

“Really! How very delightful!” said Miss Chester, who was fully aware of Sir Frederick’s intent, almost searching, gaze, but pretended to be absorbed in buttoning one of her gloves. “I must ask him to tell me what sort of fate is in store for me--something awful, I’m positive! Don’t you think he has horrid eyes?--splendid, but horrid? He looked at me in the theatre----”

“My dear, you looked at him first,” murmured Mrs. Chester.

“Yes; but I’m sure I didn’t make him shiver. Now, when he looked at me, I felt as if some one were pouring cold water very slowly down my back. It was _such_ a creepy sensation! Do fasten this, mother--will you?” and she extended the hand with the refractory glove upon it to Mrs. Chester, but Vaughan promptly interposed: