Into the brightly lighted places and back into the luminous shadows
came and went fantastic forms. Sheikhs there were with flowing robes,
dragomans who spoke no Arabic, Sultans and priests of Ancient Egypt,
going arm-in-arm. Dancing girls of old Thebes, and harem ladies in
silken trousers and high-heeled red shoes. Queens of Babylon and
Cleopatras, many Geishas and desert Gypsies mingled, specks in a giant
kaleidoscope. The thick carpet of confetti rustled to the tread; girls
ran screaming before those who pursued them armed with handfuls of the
tiny paper disks. Pipers of a Highland regiment marched piping through
the throng, their Scottish kilts seeming wildly incongruous amid such
a scene. Within the hotel, where the mosque lanterns glowed, one might
catch a glimpse of the heads of dancers gliding shadowlike.
"A tremendous crowd," said Sime, "considering it is nearly the end of
the season."
Three silken ladies wearing gauzy white _yashmaks_ confronted Cairn
and the speaker. A gleaming of jewelled fingers there was and Cairn
found himself half-choked with confetti, which filled his eyes, his
nose, his ears, and of which quite a liberal amount found access to
his mouth. The three ladies of the _yashmak_ ran screaming from their
vengeance-seeking victims, Sime pursuing two, and Cairn hard upon the
heels of the third. Amid this scene of riotous carnival all else was
forgotten, and only the madness, the infectious madness of the night,
claimed his mind. In and out of the strangely attired groups darted
his agile quarry, all but captured a score of times, but always
eluding him.
Sime he had hopelessly lost, as around fountain and flower-bed, arbour
and palm trunk he leapt in pursuit of the elusive _yashmak_.
Then, in a shadowed corner of the garden, he trapped her. Plunging his
hand into the bag of confetti, which he carried, he leapt, exulting,
to his revenge: when a sudden gust of wind passed sibilantly through
the palm tops, and glancing upward, Cairn saw that the blue sky was
overcast and the stars gleaming dimly, as through a veil. That moment
of hesitancy proved fatal to his project, for with a little excited
scream the girl dived under his outstretched arm and fled back towards
the fountain. He turned to pursue again, when a second puff of wind,
stronger than the first, set waving the palm fronds and showered dry
leaves upon the confetti carpet of the garden. The band played loudly,
the murmur of conversation rose to something like a roar, but above it
whistled the increasing breeze, and there was a sort of grittiness in
the air.
Then, proclaimed by a furious lashing of the fronds above, burst the
wind in all its fury. It seemed to beat down into the garden in waves
of heat. Huge leaves began to fall from the tree tops and the
mast-like trunks bent before the fury from the desert. The atmosphere
grew hazy with impalpable dust; and the stars were wholly obscured.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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