a coal…black beard； moved so majestically that he seemed almost a
giant。 His face was very pale。 On one of his small； almost white；
hands glittered a diamond ring。 A boy with a long； hooked nose
strolled gravely near him； wearing brown kid gloves and a turban
spangled with gold。
〃That is the Kaid of Tonga； Madame；〃 whispered Batouch； looking at the
pale man reverently。 〃He is here /en permission/。〃
〃How white he is。〃
〃They tried to poison him。 Ever since he is ill inside。 That is his
brother。 The brown gloves are very chic。〃
A light carriage rolled rapidly by them in a white mist of dust。 It
was drawn by a pair of white mules； who whisked their long tails as
they trotted briskly； urged on by a cracking whip。 A big boy with
heavy brown eyes was the coachman。 By his side sat a very tall young
negro with a humorous pointed nose； dressed in primrose yellow。 He
grinned at Batouch out of the mist； which accentuated the coal…black
hue of his whimsical； happy face。
〃That is the Agha's son with Mabrouk。〃
They turned aside from the road and came into a long tunnel formed by
mimosa trees that met above a broad path。 To right and left were other
little paths branching among the trunks of fruit trees and the narrow
twigs of many bushes that grew luxuriantly。 Between sandy brown banks；
carefully flattened and beaten hard by the spades of Arab gardeners；
glided streams of opaque water that were guided from the desert by a
system of dams。 The Kaid's mill watched over them and the great wall
of the fort。 In the tunnel the light was very delicate and tinged with
green。 The noise of the water flowing was just audible。 A few Arabs
were sitting on benches in dreamy attitudes； with their heelless
slippers hanging from the toes of their bare feet。 Beyond the entrance
of the tunnel Domini could see two horsemen galloping at a tremendous
pace into the desert。 Their red cloaks streamed out over the sloping
quarters of their horses； which devoured the earth as if in a frenzy
of emulation。 They disappeared into the last glories of the sun； which
still lingered on the plain and blazed among the summits of the red
mountains。
All the contrasts of this land were exquisite to Domini and； in some
mysterious way； suggested eternal things； whispering through colour；
gleam； and shadow； through the pattern of leaf and rock； through the
air； now fresh； now tenderly warm and perfumed； through the silence
that hung like a filmy cloud in the golden heaven。
She and Batouch entered the tunnel； passing at once into definite
evening。 The quiet of these gardens was delicious； and was only
interrupted now and then by the sound of wheels upon the road as a
carriage rolled by to some house which was hidden in the distance of
the oasis。 The seated Arabs scarcely disturbed it by their murmured
talk。 Many of them indeed said nothing； but rested like lotus…eaters
in graceful attitudes； with hanging hands； and eyes； soft as the eyes
of gazelles； that regarded the shadowy paths and creeping waters with
a grave serenity born of the inmost spirit of idleness。
But Batouch loved to talk； and soon began a languid monologue。
He told Domini that he had been in Paris； where he had been the guest
of a French poet who adored the East； that he himself was
〃instructed；〃 and not like other Arabs； that he smoked the hashish and
could sing the love songs of the Sahara； that he had travelled far in
the desert； to Souf and to Ouargla beyond the ramparts of the Dunes；
that he composed verses in the night when the uninstructed； the
brawlers； the drinkers of absinthe and the domino players were
sleeping or wasting their time in the darkness over the pastimes of
the lewd； when the sybarites were sweating under the smoky arches of
the Moorish baths； and the /marechale/ of the dancing…girls sat in her
flat…roofed house guarding the jewels and the amulets of her gay
confederation。 These verses were written both in Arabic and in French；
and the poet of Paris and his friends had found them beautiful as the
dawn； and as the palm trees of Ourlana by the Artesian wells。 All the
girls of the Ouled Nails were celebrated in these poemsAishoush and
Irena； Fatma and Baali。 In them also were enshrined legends of the
venerable marabouts who slept in the Paradise of Allah； and tales of
the great warriors who had fought above the rocky precipices of
Constantine and far off among the sands of the South。 They told the
stories of the Koulouglis； whose mothers were Moorish slaves； and
romances in which figured the dark…skinned Beni M'Zab and the freed
negroes who had fled away from the lands in the very heart of the sun。
All this information； not wholly devoid of a naive egoism； Batouch
poured forth gently and melodiously as they walked through the
twilight in the tunnel。 And Domini was quite content to listen。 The
strange names the poet mentioned； his liquid pronunciation of them；
his allusions to wild events that had happened long ago in desert
places； and to the lives of priests of his old religion； of fanatics；
and girls who rode on camels caparisoned in red to the dancing…houses
of Sahara citiesall these things cradled her humour at this moment
and seemed to plant her； like a mimosa tree； deep down in this sand
garden of the sun。
She had forgotten her bitter sensation in the railway carriage when it
was recalled to her mind by an incident that clashed with her present
mood。
Steps sounded on the path behind them； going faster than they were；
and presently Domini saw her fellow…traveller striding along；
accompanied by a young Arab who was carrying the green bag。 The
stranger was looking straight before him down the tunnel； and he went
by swiftly。 But his guide had something to say to Batouch； and altered
his pace to keep beside them for a moment。 He was a very thin； lithe；
skittish…looking youth； apparently about twenty…three years old； with
a chocolate…brown skin； high cheek bones； long； almond…shaped eyes
twinkling with dissipated humour； and a large mouth that smiled
showing pointed white teeth。 A straggling black moustache sprouted on
his upper lip； and long coarse strands of jet…black hair escaped from
under the front of a fez that was pushed back on his small head。 His
neck was thin and long； and his hands were wonderfully delicate and
expressive； with rosy and quite perfect nails。 When he laughed he had
a habit of throwing his head forward and tucking in his chin； letting
the tassel of his fez fall over his temple to left or right。 He was
dressed in white with a burnous； and had a many…coloured piece of silk
with frayed edges wound about his waist； which was as slim as a young
girl's。
He spoke to Batouch with intense vivacity in Arabic； at the same time
shooting glances half…obsequious； half…impudent； wholly and even
preternaturally keen and intelligent at Domini。 Batouch replied with
the dignified languor that seemed peculiar to him。 The colloquy
continued for two or three minutes。 Domini thought it sounded like a
quarrel； but she was not accustomed to Arabs' talk。 Meanwhile； the
stranger in front had slackened his pace； and was obviously lingering
for his neglectful guide。 Once or twice he nearly stopped； and made a
movement as if to turn round。 But he checked it and went on slowly。
His guide spoke more and more vehemently； and suddenly； tucking in his
chin and displaying his rows of big and dazzling teeth； burst into a
gay and boyish laugh； at the same time shaking his head rapidly。 Then
he shot one last sly look at Domini and hurried on； airily swinging
the green bag to and fro。 His arms had tiny bones； but they were
evidently strong； and he walked with the light ease of a young animal。
After he had gone he turned his head once and stared full at Domini。
She could not help laughing at the vanity and consciousness of his
expression。 It was childish。 Yet there was something ruthless and
wicked in it too。 As he came up to the stranger the latter looked
round； said something to him； and then hastened forward。 Domini was
struck by the difference between their gaits。 For the stranger；
although he was so strongly built and muscular； walked rather heavily
and awkwardly； with a peculiar shuffling motion of his feet。 She began
to wonder how old he was。 About thirty…five or thirty…seven； she
thought。
〃That is Hadj；〃 said Batouch in his soft； rich voice。
〃Hadj？〃
〃Yes。 He is my cousin。 He lives in Beni…Mora； but he； too； has been in
Paris。 He has been in prison too。〃
〃What for？〃
〃Stabbing。〃
Batouch gave this piece of information with quiet indifference； and
continued
〃He likes to laugh。 He is lazy。 He has earned a great deal of money；
and now he has none。 To…night he is very gay； because he has a
client。〃
〃I see。 Then he is a guide？〃
〃Many people in Beni…Mora are guides。 But Hadj is always lucky in
getting the English。〃
〃That man with him isn't English！〃 Domini exclaimed。
She had wondered what the traveller's nationality was； but it had
never occurred to her that it might be the same as her own。
〃Yes； he is。 And he is going to the Hotel du Desert。 You and he are
the only English here； and almost the only travellers。 It is too early
for m