looked almost like a stick crowned with a human face and hung with
brilliant draperies。 Her hair； which was thick and dark brown； was
elaborately braided and covered with a yellow silk handkerchief。
Domini thought she looked consumptive； and was bitterly disappointed
in her appearance。 For some unknown reason she had expected the woman
who wished to kill Hadj； and who obviously inspired him with fear； to
be a magnificent and glowing desert beauty。 This woman might be
violent。 She looked weary； anaemic； and as if she wished to go to bed；
and Domini's contempt for Hadj increased as she looked at her。 To be
afraid of a thin； tired； sleepy creature such as that was too pitiful。
But Hadj did not seem to think so。 He had pulled his hood still
further forward； and was now merely a bundle concealed in the shade of
Suzanne。
Irena stepped on to the platform； pushed the girl who sat at the end
of the bench till she moved up higher； sat down in the vacant place；
drank some water out of the glass nearest to her； and then remained
quite still staring at the floor； utterly indifferent to the Arabs who
were devouring her with their eyes。 No doubt the eyes of men had
devoured her ever since she could remember。 It was obvious that they
meant nothing to her； that they did not even for an instant disturb
the current of her dreary thoughts。
Another girl was dancing； a stout； Oriental Jewess with a thick hooked
nose； large lips and bulging eyes； that looked as if they had been
newly scoured with emery powder。 While she danced she sang； or rather
shouted roughly； an extraordinary melody that suggested battle； murder
and sudden death。 Careless of onlookers； she sometimes scratched her
head or rubbed her nose without ceasing her contortions。 Domini
guessed that this was the girl whom she had seen from the tower
dancing upon the roof in the sunset。 Distance and light had indeed
transformed her。 Under the lamps she was the embodiment of all that
was coarse and greasy。 Even the pitiful slenderness of Irena seemed
attractive when compared with her billowing charms； which she kept in
a continual commotion that was almost terrifying。
〃Hadj is nearly dead with fear；〃 whispered Batouch； complacently。
Domini's lips curled。
〃Does not Madame think Irena beautiful as the moon on the waters of
the Oued Beni…Mora？〃
〃Indeed I don't；〃 she replied bluntly。 〃And I think a man who can be
afraid of such a little thing must be afraid of the children in the
street。〃
〃Little！ But Irena is tall as a female palm in Ourlana。〃
〃Tall！〃
Domini looked at her again more carefully； and saw that Batouch spoke
the truth。 Irena was unusually tall； but her excessive narrowness； her
tiny bones； and the delicate way in which she held herself deceived
the eye and gave her a little appearance。
〃So she is； but who could be afraid of her？ Why； I could pick her up
and throw her over that moon of yours。〃
〃Madame is strong。 Madame is like the lioness。 But Irena is the most
terrible girl in all Beni…Mora if she loves or if she is angry； the
most terrible in all the Sahara。〃
Domini laughed。
〃Madame does not know her；〃 said Batouch； imperturbably。 〃But Madame
can ask the Arabs。 Many of the dancers of Beni…Mora are murdered； each
season two or three。 But no man would try to murder Irena。 No man
would dare。〃
The poet's calm and unimpassioned way of alluding to the most horrible
crimes as if they were perfectly natural； and in no way to be
condemned or wondered at； amazed Domini even more than his statement
about Irena。
〃Why do they murder the dancers？〃 she asked quickly。
〃For their jewels。 At night； in those little rooms with the balconies
which Madame has seen； it is easy。 You enter in to sleep there。 You
close your eyes； you breathe gently and a little loud。 The woman
hears。 She is not afraid。 She sleeps。 She dreams。 Her throat is like
that〃he threw back his head； exposing his great neck。 〃Just before
dawn you draw your knife from your burnous。 You bend down。 You cut the
throat without noise。 You take the jewels； the money from the box by
the bed。 You go down quietly with bare feet。 No one is on the stair。
You unbar the doorand there before you is the great hiding…place。〃
〃The great hiding…place！〃
〃The desert； Madame。〃 He sipped his coffee。 Domini looked at him；
fascinated。
Suzanne shivered。 She had been listening。 The loud contralto cry of
the Jewess rose up； with its suggestion of violence and of rough
indifference。 And Domini repeated softly：
〃The great hiding…place。〃
With every moment in Beni…Mora the desert seemed to become moremore
full of meaning； of variety； of mystery； of terror。 Was it everything？
The garden of God； the great hiding…place of murderers！ She had called
it； on the tower； the home of peace。 In the gorge of El…Akbara； ere he
prayed； Batouch had spoken of it as a vast realm of forgetfulness；
where the load of memory slips from the weary shoulders and vanishes
into the soft gulf of the sands。
But was it everything then？ And if it was so much to her already； in a
night and a day； what would it be when she knew it； what would it be
to her after many nights and many days？ She began to feel a sort of
terror mingled with the most extraordinary attraction she had ever
known。
Hadj crouched right back against the wall。 The voice of the Jewess
ceased in a shout。 The hautboys stopped playing。 Only the tomtoms
roared。
〃Hadj can be happy now；〃 observed Batouch in a voice of almost
satisfaction； 〃for Irena is going to dance。 Look！ There is the little
Miloud bringing her the daggers。〃
An Arab boy； with a beautiful face and a very dark skin； slipped on to
the platform with two long； pointed knives in his hand。 He laid them
on the table before Irena； between the bouquets of orange blossom；
jumped lightly down and disappeared。
Directly the knives touched the table the hautboy players blew a
terrific blast； and then； swelling the note； till it seemed as if they
must burst both themselves and their instruments； swung into a
tremendous and magnificent tune； a tune tingling with barbarity； yet
such as a European could have sung or written down。 In an instant it
gripped Domini and excited her till she could hardly breathe。 It
poured fire into her veins and set fire about her heart。 It was
triumphant as a great song after war in a wild land； cruel； vengeful；
but so strong and so passionately joyous that it made the eyes shine
and the blood leap； and the spirit rise up and clamour within the
body； clamour for utter liberty； for action； for wide fields in which
to roam； for long days and nights of glory and of love； for intense
hours of emotion and of life lived with exultant desperation。 It was a
melody that seemed to set the soul of Creation dancing before an ark。
The tomtoms accompanied it with an irregular but rhythmical roar which
Domini thought was like the deep…voiced shouting of squadrons of
fighting men。
Irena looked wearily at the knives。 Her expression had not changed；
and Domini was amazed at her indifference。 The eyes of everyone in the
room were fixed upon her。 Even Suzanne began to be less virginal in
appearance under the influence of this desert song of triumph。 Domini
did not let her eyes stray any more towards the stranger。 For the
moment indeed she had forgotten him。 Her attention was fastened upon
the thin； consumptive…looking creature who was staring at the two
knives laid upon the table。 When the great tune had been played right
through once； and a passionate roll of tomtoms announced its
repetition； Irena suddenly shot out her tiny arms； brought her hands
down on the knives； seized them and sprang to her feet。 She had passed
from lassitude to vivid energy with an abruptness that was almost
demoniacal； and to an energy with which both mind and body seemed to
blaze。 Then； as the hautboys screamed out the tune once more； she held
the knives above her head and danced。
Irena was not an Ouled Nail。 She was a Kabyle woman born in the
mountains of Djurdjura； not far from the village of Tamouda。 As a
child she had lived in one of those chimneyless and windowless mud
cottages with red tiled roofs which are so characteristic a feature of
La Grande Kabylie。 She had climbed barefoot the savage hills； or
descended into the gorges yellow with the broom plant and dipped her
brown toes in the waters of the Sebaou。 How had she drifted so far
from the sharp spurs of her native hills and from the ruddy…haired；
blue…eyed people of her tribe？ Possibly she had sinned； as the Kabyle
women often sin； and fled from the wrath that she would understand；
and that all her fierce bravery could not hope to conquer。 Or perhaps
with her Kabyle blood； itself a brew composed of various strains；
Greek； Roman； as well as Berber； were mingling some drops drawn from
desert sources； which had manifested themselves physically in her dark
hair； mentally in a nomadic instinct which had forbidden her to rest
among the beauties of Ait Ouaguennoun； whose legendary charm she did
not possess。 There was the look of an exile in her face； a weariness
that dreamed； perhaps； of distant things。 But now that she danced that
fled； and the gleam of f