XXIII
On the top of a pale golden hill, partly sand, partly rock, rises awhite wall with square, squat towers which look north and south, eastand west. The wall and the towers together are like an ivory crown seton the hill's brow, and from a distance the effect is very barbaric,very impressive, for all the country round about is wild and desolate.Along the southern horizon the desert goes billowing in waves of gold,and rose, and violet, that fade into the fainter violet of the sky; andnearer there are the strange little mountains which guard the oasis ofBou-Saada, like a wall reared to hide a treasure from some dreadedenemy; and even the sand is heaped in fantastic shapes, resembling atroop of tawny beasts crouched to drink from deep pools of purpleshadow. Northward, the crumpled waste rolls away like prairie land orocean, faint green over yellow brown, as if grass seed had beensprinkled sparsely on a stormy sea and by some miracle had sprouted. Andin brown wastes, bright emerald patches gleam, vivid and fierce asserpents' eyes, ringed round with silver. Far away to the east floatsthe mirage of a lake, calm as a blue lagoon. Westward, where desertmerges into sky, are high tablelands, and flat-topped mountains withcarved sides, desert architecture, such as might have suggested Egyptiantemples and colossal sphinxes.
Along the rough desert track beneath the hill, where bald stones breakthrough sandy earth, camels come and go, passing from south to north,from north to south, marching slowly with rhythmic gait, as if to thesound of music which only they can hear, glancing from side to side withunutterable superciliousness, looking wistfully here and there at someminiature oasis thrown like a dark prayer-carpet on the yellow sand. Twoor three in a band they go, led by desert men in blowing white, or againin a long train of twelve or twenty, their legs a moving lattice, theirheart-shaped feet making a soft, swishing "pad-pad," on the hard road.
The little windows of the squat, domed towers on the hill are like eyesthat spy upon this road,--small, dark and secret eyes, very weary ofseeing nothing better than camels since old days when there wererazzias, and wars, something worth shutting stout gates upon.
When, after three days of travelling, Victoria came southward along thisroad, and looked between the flapping carriage curtains at the whitewall that crowned the dull gold hill, her heart beat fast, for thethought of the golden silence sprang to her mind. The gold did not burnwith the fierce orange flames she had seen in her dreams--it was ableached and faded gold, melancholy and almost sinister in colour; yetit would pass for gold; and a great silence brooded where prairieblended with desert. She asked no questions of Maieddine, for that was arule she had laid upon herself; but when the carriage turned out of therough road it had followed so long, and the horses began to climb astony track which wound up the yellow hill to the white towers, shecould hardly breathe, for the throbbing in her breast. Always she hadonly had to shut her eyes to see Saidee, standing on a high white place,gazing westward through a haze of gold. What if this were the high whiteplace? What if already Si Maieddine was bringing her to Saidee?
They had been only three days on the way so far, it was true, and shehad been told that the journey would be very, very long. Still, Arabswere subtle, and Si Maieddine might have wanted to test her courage.Looking back upon those long hours, now, towards evening of the thirdday, it seemed to Victoria that she had been travelling for a week inthe swaying, curtained carriage, with the slow-trotting mules.
Just at first, there had been some fine scenery to hold her interest;far-off mountains of grim shapes, dark as iron, and spotted with snow asa leper is spotted with scales. Then had come low hills, following themountains (nameless to her, because Maieddine had not cared to namethem), and blue lakes of iris flowing over wide plains. But by and bythe plains flattened to dullness; a hot wind ceaselessly flapped thecanvas curtains, and Lella M'Barka sighed and moaned with the fatigue ofconstant motion. There was nothing but plain, endless plain, andVictoria had been glad, for her own sake as well as the invalid's, whennight followed the first day. They had stopped on the outskirts of alarge town, partly French, partly Arab, passing through and on to thehouse of a caid who was a friend of Si Maieddine's. It was a primitivelysimple house, even humble, it seemed to the girl, who had as yet noconception of the bareness and lack of comfort--according to Westernideas--of Arab country-houses. Nevertheless, when, after another tediousday, they rested under the roof of a village adel, an official below acaid, the first house seemed luxurious in contrast. During this last,third day, Victoria had been eager and excited, because of the desert,through one gate of which they had entered. She felt that once in thedesert she was so close to Saidee in spirit that they might almost hearthe beating of each other's hearts, but she had not expected to be nearher sister in body for many such days to come: and the wave of joy thatsurged over her soul as the horses turned up the golden hill towards thewhite towers, was suffocating in its force.
The nearer they came, the less impressive seemed the building. Afterall, it was not the great Arab stronghold it had looked from far away,but a fortified farmhouse a century old, at most. Climbing the hill,too, Victoria saw that the golden colour was partly due to a monstrousswarm of ochre-hued locusts, large as young canary birds, which hadsettled, thick as yellow snow, over the ground. They were resting aftera long flight, and there were millions and millions of them, coveringthe earth in every direction as far as the eye could reach. Only a fewwere on the wing, but as the carriage stopped before the closed gates,fat yellow bodies came blundering against the canvas curtains, or fellplumply against the blinkers over the mules' eyes.
Si Maieddine got down from the carriage, and shouted, with a peculiarcall. There was no answering sound, but after a wait of two or threeminutes the double gates of thick, greyish palm-wood were pulled openfrom inside, with a loud creak. For a moment the brown face of an oldman, wrinkled as a monkey's, looked out between the gates, which he heldajar; then, with a guttural cry, he threw both as far back as he could,and rushing out, bent his white turban over Maieddine's hand. He kissedthe Sidi's shoulder, and a fold of his burnous, half kneeling, andchattering Arabic, only a word of which Victoria could catch here andthere. As he chattered, other men came running out, some of themNegroes, all very dark, and they vied with one another in humble kissingof the master's person, at any spot convenient to their lips.
Politely, though not too eagerly, he made the gracious return of seemingto kiss the back of his own hand, or his fingers, where they had beentouched by the welcoming mouths, but in reality he kissed air. With agesture, he stopped the salutations at last, and asked for the Caid, towhom, he said, he had written, sending his letter by the diligence.
Then there were passionate jabberings of regret. The Caid, was away, hadbeen away for days, fighting the locusts on his other farm, west ofAumale, where there was grain to save. But the letter had arrived, andhad been sent after him, immediately, by a man on horseback. Thisevening he would certainly return to welcome his honoured guest. Theword was "guest," not "guests," and Victoria understood that she andLella M'Barka would not see the master of the house. So it had been atthe other two houses: so in all probability it would be at every housealong their way unless, as she still hoped, they had already come to theend of the journey.
The wide open gates showed a large, bare courtyard, the farmhouse, whichwas built round it, being itself the wall. On the outside, no windowswere visible except those in the towers, and a few tiny square aperturesfor ventilation, but the yard was overlooked by a number of small glasseyes, all curtained.
As the carriage was driven in, large yellow dogs gathered round it,barking; but the men kicked them away, and busied themselves in chasingthe animals off to a shed, their white-clad backs all religiously turnedas Si Maieddine helped the ladies to descend. Behind a closed window acurtain was shaking; and M'Barka had not yet touched her feet to theground when a negress ran out of a door that opened in the same distantcorner of the house. She was unveiled, like Lella M'Barka's servants inAlgiers, and, with Fafann, she almost carried the tired invalid towardsthe ope
n door. Victoria followed, quivering with suspense. What waitedfor her behind that door? Would she see Saidee, after all these years ofseparation?
"I think I'm dying," moaned Lella M'Barka. "They will never take me awayfrom this house alive. White Rose, where art thou? I need thy hand undermy arm."
Victoria tried to think only of M'Barka, and to wait with patience forthe supreme moment--if it were to come. Even if she had wished it, shecould not have asked questions now.