XXVII
"There is my father's douar," said Si Maieddine; and Victoria's eyesfollowed his pointing finger.
Into a stony and desolate waste had billowed one golden wave of sand,and on the fringe of this wave, the girl saw a village of tents, blackand brown, lying closely together, as a fleet of dark fishing-boats liein the water. There were many little tents, very flat and low, crouchedaround one which even at a distance was conspicuous for its enormoussize. It looked like a squatting giant among an army of pigmies; and thelevel light of late afternoon gave extraordinary value to its colours,which were brighter and newer than those of the lesser tents. As theirswaying carriage brought the travellers nearer, Victoria could see deepred and brown stripes, separated by narrow bands of white. Forbackground, there was a knot of trees; for they had come south of ElAghouat to the strange region of dayas, where the stony desolation isbroken by little emerald hollows, running with water, like big roundbowls stuck full of delicate greenery and blossoms.
Suddenly, as Victoria looked, figures began running about, and almostbefore she had time to speak, ten or a dozen men in white, mounted onhorses, came speeding across the desert.
A stain of red showed in Maieddine's cheeks, and his eyes lighted up."They have been watching, expecting us," he said. "Now my father issending men to bid us welcome."
"Perhaps he is coming himself," said Victoria, for there was one figureriding in the centre which seemed to her more splendidly dignified thanthe others, though all were magnificent horsemen.
"No. It would not be right that the Agha himself should come to meet hisson," Maieddine explained. "Besides he would be wearing a scarletburnous, embroidered with gold. He does me enough honour in sending outthe pick of his goum, which is among the finest of the Sahara."
Victoria had picked up a great deal of desert lore by this time, andknew that the "pick of the goum" would mean the best horses in theAgha's stables, the crack riders among his trained men--fighting men,such as he would give to the Government, if Arab soldiers were needed.
The dozen cavaliers swept over the desert, making the sand fly up underthe horses' hoofs in a yellow spray; and nearing the carriage theyspread themselves in a semi-circle, the man Victoria had mistaken forthe Agha riding forward to speak to Maieddine.
"It is my brother-in-law, Abderrhaman ben Douadi," exclaimed Maieddine,waving his hand.
M'Barka pulled her veil closer, and because she did so, Victoria hid herface also, rather than shock the Arab woman's prejudices.
At a word from his master, the driver stopped his mules so quickly as tobring them on their haunches, and Maieddine sprang out. He and hisbrother-in-law, a stately dark man with a short black beard under aneagle nose, exchanged courtesies which seemed elaborate to Victoria'sEuropean ideas, and Si Abderrhaman did not glance at the half-loweredcurtains behind which the women sat.
The men talked for a few minutes; then Maieddine got into the carriageagain; and surrounded by the riders, it was driven rapidly towards thetents, rocking wildly in the sand, because now it had left the desertroad and was making straight for the zmala.
The Arab men on their Arab horses shouted as they rode, as if giving asignal; and from the tents, reddened now by the declining sun, camesuddenly a strange crying in women's voices, shrill yet sweet; a soundthat was half a chant, half an eerie yodeling, note after note of"you-you!--you-you!" Out from behind the zeribas, rough hedges of deadboughs and brambles which protected each low tent, burst a tidal wave ofchildren, some gay as little bright butterflies in gorgeous dresses,others wrapped in brilliant rags. From under the tents women appeared,unveiled, and beautiful in the sunset light, with their heavy loopedbraids and their dangling, clanking silver jewellery. "You-you!you-you!" they cried, dark eyes gleaming, white teeth flashing. It wasto be a festival for the douar, this fortunate evening of the son andheir's arrival, with a great lady of his house, and her friend, a Roumiagirl. There was joy for everyone, for the Agha's relatives, and for eachman, woman and child in the zmala, mighty ones, or humble members of thetribe, the Ouled-Serrin. There would be feasting, and after dark, togive pleasure to the Roumia, the men would make the powder speak. It waslike a wedding; and best of all, an exciting rumour had gone round thedouar, concerning the foreign girl and the Agha's son, Si Maieddine.
The romance in Victoria's nature was stirred by her reception; by thewhite-clad riders on their slender horses, and the wild "you-yous" ofthe women and little girls. Maieddine saw her excitement and thrilled toit. This was his great hour. All that had gone before had been leadingup to this day, and to the days to come, when they would be in the fieryheart of the desert together, lost to all her friends whom he hated witha jealous hatred. He helped M'Barka to descend from the carriage: then,as she was received at the tent door by the Agha himself, Maieddineforgot his self-restraint, and swung the girl down, with tingling handsthat clasped her waist, as if at last she belonged to him.
Half fearful of what he had done, lest she should take alarm at hissudden change of manner, he studied her face anxiously as he set herfeet to the ground. But there was no cause for uneasiness. So far fromresenting the liberty he had taken after so many days of almostostentatious respect, Victoria was not even thinking of him, and herindifference would have been a blow, if he had not been too greatlyrelieved to be hurt by it. She was looking at his father, the Agha, whoseemed to her the embodiment of some biblical patriarch. All through herlong desert journey, she had felt as if she had wandered into a dream ofthe Old Testament. There was nothing there more modern than "Bibledays," as she said to herself, simply, except the French quarters in thefew Arab towns through which they had passed.
Not yet, however, had she seen any figure as venerable as the Agha's,and she thought at once of Abraham at his tent door. Just such a man asthis Abraham must have been in his old age. She could even imagine himready to sacrifice a son, if he believed it to be the will of Allah; andMaieddine became of more importance in her eyes because of hisrelationship to this kingly patriarch of the Sahara.
Having greeted his niece, Lella M'Barka, and passed her hospitably intothe tent where women were dimly visible, the Agha turned to Maieddineand Victoria.
"The blessing of Allah be upon thee, O my son," he said, "and upon thee,little daughter. My son's messenger brought word of thy coming, and thouart welcome as a silver shower of rain after a long drought in thedesert. Be thou as a child of my house, while thou art in my tent."
As she gave him her hand, her veil fell away from her face, and he sawits beauty with the benevolent admiration of an old man whose blood hascooled. He was so tall that the erect, thin figure reminded Victoria ofa lonely desert palm. The young girl was no stern critic, and was moreinclined to see good than evil in every one she met; therefore to herthe long snowy beard, the large dreamy eyes under brows likeMaieddine's, and the slow, benevolent smile of the Agha meant nobilityof character. Her heart was warm for the splendid old man, and he wasnot unaware of the impression he had made. As he bowed her into the tentwhere his wife and sister and daughter were crowding round M'Barka, hesaid in a low voice to Maieddine: "It is well, my son. Being a man, andyoung, thou couldst not have withstood her. When the time is ripe, shewill become a daughter of Islam, because for love of thee, she will wishto fulfil thine heart's desire."
"She does not yet know that she loves me," Maieddine answered. "But whenthou hast given me the white stallion El Biod, and I ride beside thegirl in her bassour through the long days and the long distances, Ishall teach her, in the way the Roumi men teach their women to love."
"But if thou shouldst not teach her?"
"My life is in it, and I shall teach her," said Maieddine. "But ifChitan stands between, and I fail--which I will not do--why, even so, itwill come to the same thing in the end, because----"
"Thou wouldst say----"
"It is well to know one's own meaning, and to speak of--date stones. Yetwith one's father, one can open one's heart. He to whom I go has need ofmy services, and what he has
for twelve months vainly asked me to do, Iwill promise to do, for the girl's sake, if I cannot win her without."
"Take care! Thou enterest a dangerous path," said the old man.
"Yet often I have thought of entering there, before I saw this girl'sface."
"There might be a great reward in this life, and in the life beyond. Yetonce the first step is taken, it is irrevocable. In any case, commit meto nothing with him to whom thou goest. He is eaten up with zeal. He isa devouring fire--and all is fuel for that fire."
"I will commit thee to nothing without thy full permission, O myfather."
"And for thyself, think twice before thou killest the sheep. Rememberour desert saying. 'Who kills a sheep, kills a bee. Who kills a bee,kills a palm, and who kills a palm, kills seventy prophets.'"
"I would give my sword to the prophets to aid them in killing those whoare not prophets."
"Thou art faithful. Yet let the rain of reason fall on thy head and onthine heart, before thou givest thy sword into the hand of him who waitsthine answer."
"Thine advice is of the value of many dates, even of the _deglet nour_,the jewel date, which only the rich can eat."
The old man laid his hand, still strong and firm, on his son's shoulder,and together they went into the great tent, that part of it where thewomen were, for all were closely related to them, excepting the Roumia,who had been received as a daughter of the house.
* * * * * * *
When it was evening, the douar feasted, in honour of the guests who hadcome to the _tente sultane_. The Agha had given orders that two sheepshould be killed. One was for his own household; his relatives, hisservants, many of whom lived under the one vast roof of red, and white,and brown. His daughter, and her husband who assisted him in many ways,and was his scribe, or secretary, had a tent of their own close by, nextin size to the Agha's; but they were bidden to supper in the great tentthat night, for the family reunion. And because there was a Europeangirl present, the women ate with the men, which was not usual.
The second sheep was for the humbler folk of the zmala, and they roastedit whole in an open space, over a fire of small, dry wood, and of deadpalm branches brought on donkey back twenty miles across the desert,from the nearest oasis town, also under dominion of the Agha. He had ahouse and garden there; but he liked best to be in his douar, with onlyhis tent roof between him and the sky. Also it made him popular withthe tribe of which he was the head, to spend most of his time with themin the desert. And for some reasons of which he never spoke, the old mangreatly valued this popularity, though he treasured also the respect ofthe French, who assured his position and revenues.
The desert men had made a ring round the fire, far from the green_daya_, so that the blowing sparks might not reach the trees. They satin a circle, on the sand, with a row of women on one side, who held thesmallest children by their short skirts; and larger children, wild anddark, as the red light of the flames played over their faces, fed thefire with pale palm branches. There was no moon, but a fountain ofsparks spouted towards the stars; and though it was night, the sky wasblue with the fierce blue of steel. Some of the Agha's black Soudaneseservants had made kous-kous of semolina with a little mutton and a greatmany red peppers. This they gave to the crowd, in huge wooden bowls; andthe richer people boiled coffee which they drank themselves, and offeredto those sitting nearest them.
When everybody had eaten, the powder play began round the fire, and ateach explosion the women shrilled out their "you-you, you-you!" But thiswas all for the entertainment of outsiders. Inside the Agha's tent, thefamily took their pleasure more quietly.
Though a house of canvas, there were many divisions into rooms. TheAgha's wife had hers, separated completely from her sister's, and therewas space for guests, besides the Agha's own quarters, his receptionroom, his dining-room (invaded to-night by all his family) the kitchen,and sleeping place for a number of servants.
There were many dishes besides the inevitable cheurba, or Arab soup, thekous-kous, the mechoui, lamb roasted over the fire. Victoria was almostsickened by the succession of sweet things, cakes and sugared preserves,made by the hands of the Agha's wife, Alonda, who in the Roumia's eyeswas as like Sarah as the Agha was like Abraham. Yet everything wasdelicious; and after the meal, when the coffee came, lagmi the desertwine distilled from the heart of a palm tree, was pressed upon Victoria.All drank a little, for, said Lella Alonda, though strong drink wasforbidden by the Prophet, the palms were dear to him, and besides, inthe throats of good men and women, wine was turned to milk, as SidiAissa of the Christians turned water to wine at the marriage feast.
When they had finished at last, a Soudanese woman poured rose-water overtheir hands, from a copper jug, and wiped them with a large damasknapkin, embroidered by Aichouch, the pretty, somewhat coquettish marrieddaughter of the house, Maieddine's only sister. The rose-water had beendistilled by Lella Fatma, the widowed sister of Alonda, who shared thehospitality of the Agha's roof, in village or douar. Every onequestioned Victoria, and made much of her, even the Agha; but, thoughthey asked her opinions of Africa, and talked of her journey across thesea, they did not speak of her past life or of her future. Not a wordwas said concerning her mission, or Ben Halim's wife, the sister forwhom she searched.
While they were still at supper, the black servants who had waited uponthem went quietly away, but slightly raised the heavy red drapery whichformed the partition between that room and another. They looped up thethick curtain only a little way, but there was a light on the otherside, and Victoria, curious as to what would happen next, spied theservants' black legs moving about, watched a rough wooden bench placedon the blue and crimson rugs of Djebel Amour, and presently saw otherblack legs under a white burnous coil themselves upon the low seat.
Then began strange music, the first sound of which made Victoria's heartleap. It was the first time she had heard the music of Africa, except adistant beating of tobols coming from a black tent across desertspaces, while she had lain at night in the house of Maieddine's friends;or the faint, pure note of a henna-dyed flute in the hand of some boykeeper of goats--a note pure as the monotonous purling of water, heardin the dark.
But this music was so close to her, that it was like the throbbing ofher own heart. And it was no sweet, pure trickle of silver, but the cryof passion, passion as old and as burning as the desert sands outsidethe lighted tent. As she listened, struck into pulsing silence, shecould see the colour of the music; a deep crimson, which flamed intoscarlet as the tom-tom beat, or deepened to violent purple, wicked asbelladonna flowers. The wailing of the raita mingled with the heavythrobbing of the tom-tom, and filled the girl's heart with a vagueforeboding, a yearning for something she had not known, and did notunderstand. Yet it seemed that she must have both known and understoodlong ago, before memory recorded anything--perhaps in some forgottenincarnation. For the music and what it said, monotonously yet fiercely,was old as the beginnings of the world, old and changeless as thepatterns of the stars embroidered on the astrological scroll of the sky.The hoarse derbouka, and the languorous ghesbah joined in with thesavage tobol and the strident raita; and under all was the tiredheart-beat of the bendir, dull yet resonant, and curiously exciting tothe nerves.
Victoria's head swam. She wondered if it were wholly the effect of theAfrican music, or if the lagmi she had sipped was mounting to her brain.She grew painfully conscious of every physical sense, and it was hard tosit and listen. She longed to spring up and dance in time to thedroning, and throbbing, and crying of the primitive instruments whichthe Negroes played behind the red curtain. She felt that she must dance,a new, strange dance the idea of which was growing in her mind, andbecoming an obsession. She could see it as if she were looking at apicture; yet it was only her nerves and her blood that bade her dance.Her reason told her to sit still. Striving to control herself she shuther eyes, and would have shut her ears too, if she could. But the musicwas loud in them. It made her see desert rivers ri
sing after floods, andwater pounding against the walls of underground caverns. It made herhear the wild, fierce love-call of a desert bird to its mate.
She could bear it no longer. She sprang up, her eyes shining, her cheeksred. "May I dance for you to that music, Lella Alonda?" she said to theAgha's wife. "I think I could. I long to try."
Lella Alonda, who was old, and accustomed only to the dancing of theAlmehs, which she thought shameful, was scandalized at the thought thatthe young girl would willingly dance before men. She was dumb, notknowing what answer to give, that need not offend a guest, but whichmight save the Roumia from indiscretion.
The Agha, however, was enchanted. He was a man of the world still,though he was aged now, and he had been to Paris, as well as many timesto Algiers. He knew that European ladies danced with men of theiracquaintance, and he was curious to see what this beautiful child wishedto do. He glanced at Maieddine, and spoke to his wife: "Tell the littleWhite Rose to dance; that it will give us pleasure."
"Dance then, in thine own way, O daughter," Lella Alonda was forced tosay; for it did not even occur to her that she might disobey herhusband.
Victoria smiled at them all; at M'Barka and Aichouch, and Aichouch'sdignified husband, Si Abderrhaman: at Alonda and the Agha, and atMaieddine, as, when a child, she would have smiled at her sister, whenbeginning a dance made up from one of Saidee's stories.
She had told Stephen of an Eastern dance she knew, but this wassomething different, more thrilling and wonderful, which the wild musicput into her heart. At first, she hardly knew what was the meaning shefelt impelled to express by gesture and pose. The spirit of the desertsang to her, a song of love, a song old as the love-story of Eve; andthough the secret of that song was partly hidden from her as yet, shemust try to find it out for herself, and picture it to others, bydancing.
Always before, when she danced, Victoria had called up the face of hersister, to keep before her eyes as an inspiration. But now, as she bentand swayed to catch the spirit's whispers, as wheat sways to the whisperof the wind, it was a man's face she saw. Stephen Knight seemed to standin the tent, looking at her with a curiously wistful, longing look, overthe heads of the Arab audience, who sat on their low divans and piledcarpets.
She thrilled to the look, and the desert spirit made her screen her facefrom it, with a sequined gauze scarf which she wore. For a few measuresshe danced behind the glittering veil, then with a sudden impulse whichthe music gave, she tossed it back, holding out her arms, and smiling upto Stephen's eyes, above the brown faces, with a sweet smile verymysterious to the watchers. Consciously she called to Stephen then, asshe had promised she would call, if she should ever need him, forsomehow she did need and want him;--not for his help in finding Saidee:she was satisfied with all that Maieddine was doing--but for herself.The secret of the music which she had been trying to find out, was inhis eyes, and learning it slowly, made her more beautiful, more womanly,than she had ever been before. As she danced on, the two long plaits ofher red hair loosened and shook out into curls which played round herwhite figure like flames. Her hands fluttered on the air as they roseand fell like the little white wings of a dove; and she was dazzling asa brandished torch, in the ill-lit tent with its dark hangings.
M'Barka had given her a necklace of black beads which the negresses hadmade of benzoin and rose leaves and spices, held in shape with pungentrezin. Worn on the warm flesh, the beads gave out a heady perfume, whichwas like the breath of the desert. It made the girl giddy, and it grewstronger and sweeter as she danced, seeming to mingle with the cryingof the raita and the sobbing of the ghesbah, so that she confusedfragrance with music, music with fragrance.
Maieddine stared at her, like a man who dreams with his eyes open. If hehad been alone, he could have watched her dance on for hours, and wishedthat she would never stop; but there were other men in the tent, and hehad a maddening desire to snatch the girl in his arms, smothering her inhis burnous, and rushing away with her into the desert.
Her dancing astonished him. He did not know what to make of it, for shehad told him nothing about herself, except what concerned her errand inAfrica. Though he had been in Paris when she was there, he had beendeeply absorbed in business vital to his career, and had not heard ofVictoria Ray the dancer, or seen her name on the hoardings.
Like his father, he knew that European women who danced were not as theAfrican dancers, the Ouled Nails and the girls of Djebel Amour. But anArab may have learned to know many things with his mind which he cannotfeel with his heart; and with his heart Maieddine felt a wish to blindAbderrhaman, because his eyes had seen the intoxicating beauty ofVictoria as she danced. He was ferociously angry, but not with the girl.Perhaps with himself, because he was powerless to hide her from others,and to order her life as he chose. Yet there was a kind of deliciouspain in knowing himself at her mercy, as no Arab man could be at themercy of an Arab woman.
The sight of Victoria dancing, had shot new colours into his existence.He understood her less, and valued her more than before, a thousandtimes more, achingly, torturingly more. Since their first meeting on theboat, he had admired the American girl immensely. Her whiteness, thegolden-red of her hair, the blueness of her eyes had meant perfectionfor him. He had wanted her because she was the most beautiful creaturehe had seen, because she was a Christian and difficult to win; alsobecause the contrast between her childishness and brave independencewas piquant. Apart from that contrast, he had not thought much about hernature. He had looked upon her simply as a beautiful girl, who could notbe bought, but must be won. Now she had become a bewildering houri.Nothing which life could give him would make up for the loss of her.There was nothing he would not do to have her, or at least to put herbeyond the reach of others.
If necessary, he would even break his promise to the Agha.
While she danced inside the great tent, outside in the open space roundthe fire, the dwellers in the little tents sat with their knees in theirarms watching the dancing of two young Negroes from the Soudan. Theblacks had torn their turbans from their shaven heads, and thrown asidetheir burnouses. Naked to their waists, with short, loose trousers, andsashes which other men seized, to swing the wearers round and round,their sweating skin had the gloss of ebony. It was a whirlwind of adance, and an old wizard with a tom-tom, and a dark giant with metalcastanets made music for the dancers, taking eccentric steps themselvesas they played. The Soudanese fell into an ecstasy of giddiness, runningabout on their hands and feet like huge black tarantulas, or turningthemselves into human wheels, to roll through the bed of the dying fireand out on the other side, sending up showers of sparks. All the while,they uttered a barking chant, in time to the wicked music, which seemedto shriek for war and bloodshed; and now and then they would dash aftersome toddling boy, catch him by the scalp-lock on his shaved head (leftfor the grasp of Azrail the death-angel) and force him to join thedance.
Mean-faced Kabyle dogs, guarding deserted tents, howled their hatred ofthe music, while far away, across desert spaces, jackals cried to oneanother. And the scintillating network of stars was dimmed by a thinveil of sand which the wind lifted and let fall, as Victoria lifted andlet fall the spangled scarf that made her beauty more mysterious, moredesirable, in the eyes of Maieddine.