XXVI
Next day, Lella M'Barka was well enough to begin the march again. Theystarted, in the same curtained carriage, at that moment before dawnwhile it is still dark, and a thin white cloth seems spread over thedead face of night. Then day came trembling along the horizon, and theshadows of horses and carriage grew long and grotesquely deformed. Itwas the time, M'Barka said, when Chitan the devil, and the evil Djenounthat possess people's minds and drive them insane, were most powerful;and she would hardly listen when Victoria answered that she did notbelieve in Djenoun.
In a long day, they came to Bou-Saada, reaching the hidden oasis afternightfall, and staying in the house of the Caid with whom Stephen andNevill had talked of Ben Halim. Lella M'Barka was related to the Caid'swife, and was so happy in meeting a cousin after years of separation,that the fever in her blood was cooled; and in the morning she was ableto go on.
Then came two days of driving to Djelfa, at first in a country strangeenough to be Djinn-haunted, a country of gloomy mountains, and deepwater-courses like badly healed wounds; passing through dry river-beds,and over broken roads with here and there a bordj where men broughtwater to the mules, in skins held together with ropes of straw. At last,after a night, not too comfortable, spent in a dismal bordj, they cameto a wilderness which any fairytale-teller would have called the end ofthe world. The road had dwindled to a track across gloomy desert, allthe more desolate, somehow, because of the dry asparto grass growingthinly among stones. Nothing seemed to live or move in this world,except a lizard that whisked its grey-green length across the road, along-legged bird which hopped gloomily out of the way, or a few raggedblack and white sheep with nobody to drive them. In the heat of the daynothing stirred, not even the air, though the distance shimmered andtrembled with heat; but towards night jackals padded lithely from onerock shelter to another. The carriage drove through a vast plain, rimmedwith far-away mountains, red as porphyry, but fading to purple at thehorizon. Victoria felt that she would never come to the end of thisplain, that it must finish only with eternity; and she wished in anoccasional burst of impatience that she were travelling in NevillCaird's motor-car. She could reach her sister in a third of the time!She told herself that these thoughts were ungrateful to Maieddine, whowas doing so much for her sake, and she kept up her spirits whether theydragged on tediously, or stopped by the way to eat, or to let M'Barkarest. She tried to control her restlessness, but feared that Maieddinesaw it, for he took pains to explain, more than once, how necessary wasthe detour they were making. Along this route he had friends who wereglad to entertain them at night, and give them mules or horses, andbesides, it was an advantage that the way should be unfrequented byEuropeans. He cheered her by describing the interest of the journeywhen, by and by, she would ride a mehari, sitting in a bassour, made ofbranches heated and bent into shape like a great cage, lined and drapedwith soft haoulis of beautiful colours, and comfortably cushioned. Itwould not be long now before they should come to the douar of his fatherthe Agha, beyond El Aghouat. She would have a wonderful experiencethere; and according to Maieddine, all the rest of the journey would bean enchantment. Never for a moment would he let her tire. Oh, he wouldpromise that she should be half sorry when the last day came! As forLella M'Barka, the Rose of the West need not fear, for the bassour waseasy as a cradle to a woman of the desert; and M'Barka, rightfully aprincess of Touggourt, was desert-born and bred.
Queer little patches of growing grain, or miniature orchards enlivenedthe dull plain round the ugly Saharian town of Djelfa, headquarters ofthe Ouled Nails. The place looked unprepossessingly new and French, andobtrusively military; dismal, too, in the dusty sand which a wailingwind blew through the streets; but scarcely a Frenchman was to be seen,except the soldiers. Many Arabs worked with surprising briskness at theloading or unloading of great carts, men of the Ouled Nails, with eyesmore mysterious than the eyes of veiled women; tall fellows wearing highshoes of soft, pale brown leather made for walking long distances inheavy sand; and Maieddine said that there was great traffic and commercebetween Djelfa and the M'Zab country, where she and he and M'Barka wouldarrive presently, after passing his father's douar.
Maieddine was uneasy until they were out of Djelfa, for, though fewEuropeans travelled that way, and the road is hideous for motors, stillit was not impossible that a certain yellow car had slipped in beforethem, to lie in wait. The Caid's house, where they spent that night, wasoutside the town, and behind its closed doors and little windows therewas no fear of intruders. It was good to be sure of shelter and securityunder a friend's roof; and so far, in spite of the adventure at BenSliman's, everything was going well enough. Only--Maieddine was a littledisappointed in Victoria's manner towards himself. She was sweet andfriendly, and grateful for all he did, but she did not seem interestedin him as a man. He felt that she was eager to get on, that she wascounting the days, not because of any pleasure they might bring in hissociety, but to make them pass more quickly. Still, with the deep-rootedpatience of the Arab, he went on hoping. His father, Agha of theOuled-Serrin, reigned in the desert like a petty king. Maieddine thoughtthat the douar and the Agha's state must impress her; and the journeyon from there would be a splendid experience, different indeed from thisinterminable jogging along, cramped up in a carriage, with M'Barkasighing, or leaning a heavy head on the girl's shoulder. Out in theopen, Victoria in her bassour, he on the horse which he would take fromhis father's goum, travelling would be pure joy. And Maieddine had beensaving up many surprises for that time, things he meant to do for thegirl, which must turn her heart towards him.
Beyond Djelfa, on the low mountains that alone broke the monotonyof the dismal plain, little watch-towers rose dark along thesky-line--watch-towers old as Roman days. Sometimes the travellers met amounted man wearing a long, hooded cloak over his white burnous; acavalier of the Bureau Arabe, or native policeman on his beat, under theauthority of a civil organization more powerful in the Sahara than thearmy. These men, riding alone, saluted Si Maieddine almost withreverence, and Lella M'Barka told Victoria, with pride, that her cousinwas immensely respected by the French Government. He had done much forFrance in the far south, where his family influence was great, and hehad adjusted difficulties between the desert men and their rulers. "Heis more tolerant than I, to those through whom Allah has punished us forour sins," said the woman of the Sahara. "I was brought up in an olderschool; and though I may love one of the Roumis, as I have learned tolove thee, oh White Rose, I cannot love whole Christian nations.Maieddine is wiser than I, yet I would not change my opinions for his;unless, as I often think, he really----" she stopped suddenly, frowningat herself. "This dreariness is not _our_ desert," she explained eagerlyto the girl, as the horses dragged the carriage over the sandy earth,through whose hard brown surface the harsh, colourless blades of _drinn_pricked like a few sparse hairs on the head of a shrivelled old man. "Inthe Sahara, there are four kinds of desert, because Allah put fourangels in charge, giving each his own portion. The Angel of the Chebkawas cold of nature, with no kindness in his heart, and was jealous ofthe others; so the Chebka is desolate, sown with sharp rocks which wereupheaved from under the earth before man came, and its dark ravines arestill haunted by evil spirits. The Angel of the Hameda was careless, andforgot to pray for cool valleys and good water, so the Hameda hardenedinto a great plateau of rock. The Angel of the Gaci was loved by ahouri, who appeared to him and danced on the firm sand of his desert.Vanishing, she scattered many jewels, and fruits from the celestialgardens which turned into beautifully coloured stones as they fell, andthere they have lain from that day to this. But best of all was theAngel of the Erg, our desert--desert of the shifting dunes, never twicethe same, yet always more beautiful to-day than yesterday; treacherousto strangers, but kind as the bosom of a mother to her children. Thefirst three angels were men, but the fourth and best is the angel womanwho sows the heaven with stars, for lamps to light her own desert, andall the world beside, even the world of infidels."
M'Barka and Maied
dine both talked a great deal of El Aghouat, whichM'Barka called the desert pearl, next in beauty to her own wildTouggourt, and Maieddine laughingly likened the oasis-town to Paris. "Itis the Paris of our Sahara," he said, "and all the desert men, fromCaids to camel-drivers, look forward to its pleasures."
He planned to let the girl see El Aghouat for the first time at sunset.That was to be one of his surprises. By nature he was dramatic; and thebirth of the sun and the death of the sun are the great dramas of thedesert. He wished to be the hero of such a drama for Victoria, with ElAghouat for his background; for there, he was leading her in at the gateof his own country.
When they had passed the strange rock-shape known as the Chapeau deGendarme, and the line of mountains which is like the great wall ofChina, Maieddine defied the danger he had never quite ceased to fearduring the five long days since the adventure on the other side ofBou-Saada. He ordered the carriage curtains to be rolled up as tightlyas they would go, and Victoria saw a place so beautiful that it was likethe secret garden of some Eastern king. It was as if they had drivenabruptly over the edge of a vast bowl half filled with gold dust, andringed round its rim with quivering rosy flames. Perhaps the king of thegarden had a dragon whose business it was to keep the fire always alightto prevent robbers from coming to steal the gold dust; and so ardentlyhad it been blazing there for centuries, that all the sky up to thezenith had caught fire, burning with so dazzling an intensity of violetthat Victoria thought she could warm her hands in its reflection on thesand. In the azure crucible diamonds were melting, boiling up in aradiant spray, but suddenly the violet splendour was cooled, and after avague quivering of rainbow tints, the celestial rose tree of the Saharasunset climbed blossoming over the whole blue dome, east, west, northand south.
In the bottom of the golden bowl, there was a river bed to cross, on abridge of planks, but among the burning stones trickled a mere runnel ofwater, bright as spilt mercury. And Maieddine chose the moment when theminarets of El Aghouat rose from a sea of palms, to point out thestrange, pale hills crowned by old koubbahs of marabouts and themilitary hospital. He told the story of the Arab revolt of fifty oddyears ago; and while he praised the gallantry of the French, Victoriasaw in his eyes, heard in the thrill of his voice, that his admirationwas for his own people. This made her thoughtful, for though it wasnatural enough to sympathize with the Arabs who had stood the siege andbeen reconquered after desperate fighting, until now his point of viewhad seemed to be the modern, progressive, French point of view. Quicklythe question flashed through her mind--"Is he letting himself go,showing me his real self, because I'm in the desert with him, and hethinks I'll never go back among Europeans?"
She shivered a little at the thought, but she put it away with the doubtof Maieddine that came with it. Never had he given her the least causeto fear him, and she would go on trusting in his good faith, as she hadtrusted from the first.
Still, there was that creeping chill, in contrast to the warm glory ofthe sunset, which seemed to shame it by giving a glimpse of the desert'sheart, which was Maieddine's heart. She hurried to say how beautiful wasEl Aghouat; and that night, in the house of the Caid, (an uncle ofMaieddine's on his mother's side), as the women grouped round her,hospitable and admiring, she reproached herself again for her suspicion.The wife of the Caid was dignified and gentle. There were daughtersgrowing up, and though they knew nothing, or seemed to know nothing, ofSaidee, they were sure that, if Maieddine knew, all was well. Becausethey were his cousins they had seen and been seen by him, and the younggirls poured out all the untaught romance of their little dim souls inpraise of Maieddine. Once they were on the point of saying somethingwhich their mother seemed to think indiscreet, and checked them quickly.Then they stopped, laughing; and their laughter, like the laughter oflittle children, was so contagious that Victoria laughed too.
There was some dreadful European furniture of sprawling, "nouveau art"design in the guest-room which she and Lella M'Barka shared; and asVictoria lay awake on the hard bed, of which the girls were proud, shesaid to herself that she had not been half grateful enough to SiMaieddine. For ten years she had tried to find Saidee, and until theother day she had been little nearer her heart's desire than when shewas a child, hoping and longing in the school garret. Now Maieddine hadmade the way easy--almost too easy, for the road to the golden silencehad become so wonderful that she was tempted to forget her haste toreach the end.