And as he moved away, the ex-soldier gaped after him with a repeated
whisper of:
"The fool!"
To which presently he added in a louder, as well as a mysterious, tone:
"I have heard that occasionally they send fever patients hither for
their health."
The same evening saw two sturdy women arrive with supper for the
carpenters; whereupon the clatter of labour ceased, and therefore the
rustling of the forest and the murmuring of the rivulet became the more
distinct.
Next, deliberately, and with many coughs, the ex-soldier set to work to
collect some twigs and chips for the purpose of lighting a fire. After
which, having arranged a kettle over the flames, he said to me
suggestively:
"You too should collect some firewood, for in these parts the nights
are dark and chilly."
I set forth in search of chips among the stones which lay around the
barraque, and, in so doing, stumbled across the newcomer, who was lying
with his body resting on an elbow, and his head on his hand, as he
conned a manuscript spread out before him. As he raised his eyes to
gaze vaguely, inquiringly into my face, I saw that one of his eyes was
larger than the other.
Evidently he divined that he interested me, for he smiled. Yet so taken
aback by this was I, that I passed on my way without speaking.
Meanwhile the carpenters, disposed in two circles around the barraque
(a circle to each woman), partook of a silent supper.
Deeper and deeper grew the shadow of night over the defile. Warmer and
warmer, denser and denser, grew the air, until the twilight caused the
slopes of the mountains to soften in outline, and the rocks to seem to
swell and merge with the bluish-blackness which overhung the bed of the
defile, and the superimposed heights to form a single apparent whole,
and the scene in general to resolve itself into, become united into,
one compact bulk.
Quietly then did tints hitherto red extinguish their tremulous
glow--softly there flared up, dusted purple in the sunset's sheen, the
peak of Kara Dagh. Vice versa, the foam of the rivulet now blushed to
red, and, seemingly, assuaged its vehemence--flowed with a deeper, a
more pensive, note; while similarly the forest hushed its voice, and
appeared to stoop towards the water while emitting ever more powerful,
intoxicating odours to mingle with the resinous, cloyingly sweet
perfume of our wood fire.
The ex-soldier squatted down before the little blaze, and rearranged
some fuel under the kettle.
"Where is the other man?" said he. "Go and fetch him."
I departed for the purpose, and, on my way, heard one of the carpenters
in the neighbourhood of the barraque say in a thick, unctuous,
sing-song voice.
"A great work is it indeed!"
Whereafter I heard the two women fall to drawling in low, hungry
accents:
"With the flesh I'll conquer pain;
The spirit shall my lust restrain;
All-supreme the soul shall reign;
And carnal vices lure in vain."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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