Africa, North -- Fiction; British -- Africa, North -- Fiction; Love stories; Married women -- Fiction
“I do not speak it well,” he answered.
And he looked away towards the dense thickets of the palms. The track
narrowed till the trees on either side cast patterns of moving shade
across it and the silent mystery was deepened. As far as the eye could
see the feathery, tufted foliage swayed in the little wind. The desert
had vanished, but sent in after them the message of its soul, the
marvellous breath which Domini had drunk into her lungs so long before
she saw it. That breath was like a presence. It dwells in all oases. The
high earth walls concealed the gardens. Domini longed to look over and
see what they contained, whether there were any dwellings in these dim
and silent recesses, any pools of water, flowers or grassy lawns.
Her horse neighed.
“Something is coming,” she said.
They turned a corner and were suddenly in a village. A mob of half-naked
children scattered from their horses’ feet. Rows of seated men in white
and earth-coloured robes stared upon them from beneath the shadow of
tall, windowless earth houses. White dogs rushed to and fro upon the
flat roofs, thrusting forward venomous heads, showing their teeth and
barking furiously. Hens fluttered in agitation from one side to the
other. A grey mule, tethered to a palm-wood door and loaded with
brushwood, lashed out with its hoofs at a negro, who at once began to
batter it passionately with a pole, and a long line of sneering camels
confronted them, treading stealthily, and turning their serpentine
necks from side to side as they came onwards with a soft and weary
inflexibility. In the distance there was a vision of a glaring
market-place crowded with moving forms and humming with noises.
The change from mysterious peace to this vivid and concentrated life was
startling.
With difficulty they avoided the onset of the camels by pulling their
horses into the midst of the dreamers against the walls, who rolled
and scrambled into places of safety, then stood up and surrounded them,
staring with an almost terrible interest upon them, and surveying their
horses with the eyes of connoisseurs. The children danced up and began
to ask for alms, and an immense man, with a broken nose and brown
teeth like tusks, laid a gigantic hand on Domini’s bridle and said, in
atrocious French:
“I am the guide, I am the guide. Look at my certificates. Take no one
else. The people here are robbers. I am the only honest man. I will show
Madame everything. I will take Madame to the inn. Look--my certificates!
Read them! Read what the English lord says of me. I alone am honest
here. I am honest Mustapha! I am honest Mustapha!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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