deserttown, from the Atlas to Lake Tsad, continue to relate weird andwonderful tales of the City of the Golden Tombs and the Evil of theThousand Eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE GATE OF HELL.
Lounging on a bench under the tall date-palms in the market-place ofHamman-el-Enf, I smoked a rank _cherbli_ in dreamy laziness. The daywas dying; the blazing African sun sank, flooding the broad Bay of Tuniswith its blood-red afterglow, and the giant palms cast their long,straight shadows over the hot, sun-blanched stones. There are no halflights in Northern Africa; all is either glaring brilliance or sombreshadow. Little twilight is there in that land of mosques and marabouts;night follows the death of day with astonishing rapidity. Even while Isat, darkness crept on; the squatting, chattering crowd ofwhite-burnoused Moors and Arabs and red-fezzed negroes had dispersed,and the sunbaked little village seemed almost deserted. Suddenly thewhite figure of an Arab woman glided slowly and ghost-like from the deepshadow of the ilexes. Like all others of her sex, she was enshrouded ina _haick_, and the lower portion of her face was hidden by her thickwhite veil, only a magnificent pair of black sparkling eyes, and aforehead upon which rows of gold sequins tinkled, being visible.
Halting for a few seconds, she stared at me as if in surprise, then, insoft musical Arabic, gave me peace, exclaiming--
"Sadness dwelleth in the heart of the Touareg. Of a verity thou art notmore sad than I," and, sighing, she drew her _adjar_ closer across herface, and was about to pass on.
"Sad, art thou?" I answered, surprised that she should address me, aveiled man of the desert. In the dim light I could distinguish that herhose were of the finest white silk, that her tiny shoes were Paris madeand of patent leather, and that the hand which held the _haick_ aroundher was loaded with valuable rings. "Loosen thy tongue's strings, O oneof beauty," I said, gallantly. "Tell me why speakest thou unto me; whyunhappiness hath fallen upon thee."
"Ah, no!" she replied, in a hoarse half-whisper, glancing round inapparent fear. "My people must not observe me having speech with thee.Ah, Allah may bring one of us to Certainty before to-morrow, and--ifthou wouldst only help me!"
"What service can I render?" I asked, quickly, well aware that the factof her speaking to a Touareg in a public place was of itself a verygrave offence in the eyes of the fanatical Aissawa. The barrier betweenthe Berber and the Touareg in Tunis is still insurmountable.
"First, thou must trust me," she said frankly. "I am called FathmaKhadidja; and thy name--already I know it. It is dangerous for me tohold converse here with thee. Let thy footsteps follow mine. Come, andmay Allah, who knoweth the innermost parts of the breasts of men, showerupon thee bounteous blessings," and she turned and started off with thatwaddling gait peculiar to all Arab women.
I hesitated. If really in distress, it was strange that she had notcalled upon her own people to help her, instead of requesting a Touaregand a stranger to render assistance.
No. I decided not to go, and sat watching her receding figure cross themarket-place where slaves were sold even within recent years, anddisappear in the shadow of the mosque.
In an hour I had forgotten the mysterious Fathma and her troubles, andreturned to Tunis.
Next afternoon, as I entered my temporary abode in the Kasbah-Kasneh, myslave handed me a note. As I tore it open it emitted an odour ofgeranium, the favourite perfume of the harem. Having read the threelong lines of sprawly Arabic characters it contained, I placed themissive in my pocket and turned away. If I valued my life, I was tomeet Khadidja that evening. Was that a threat, or a warning? Duringthe remainder of that day I lounged outside the cafes and pondereddeeply. For hours I ruminated over absinthe and mazagran, cassis andbock; and, after much consideration, I at length resolved to keep theappointment, and ascertain the extent of the mysterious danger of whichshe wrote.
At the appointed hour I awaited her at a secluded spot outside the BabAlewa. The clock of the Mosque of Sidi Mahrez, close by, strucksolemnly, and as the last sound died away I heard the _frou-frou_ offeminine garments, as a shrouded figure advanced to meet me.
"Ah, so thou hast kept thine appointment, O Touareg!" she exclaimed,stretching forth to me a soft white hand. "Thou thinkest, because Ibelieve in the One, and in Mahomet his Prophet, that I am unworthy thyregard; that I am not to be trusted, eh?" Then she laughed lightly,adding, "Come, let us hasten. I want to have serious speech with theeupon a matter that affecteth us both."
Without replying, I walked on beside her, wondering whether she wereugly or beautiful. Crossing a deserted garden, we passed out to wheretwo asses were tethered, and, mounting them, rode away into thedarkness. I remember that we went through several villages, and atlength came to a larger place built upon the low cliffs, where a numberof spacious flat-roofed houses overlooked the sea.
Suddenly she dismounted before a low arched door in one of the greatsquare, inartistic, whitewashed residences, and placed her fingers uponher lips indicative of silence. Taking a key that was suspended aroundher neck, she unlocked the door and led me into a dark passage sothickly carpeted that my feet fell noiselessly as she guided me onward.Once I caught a glimpse of a spacious patio, rendered cool by a plashingfountain and green with many leaves; then through two small chambers wepassed, until we came to a closed door, which she opened, and I foundmyself in a spacious, dimly illumined apartment, decorated in quaintArabesques of dark crimson and dull gold. Everything was rich andluxurious. The air was heavy with sensuous odours rising in a thin bluecolumn from the gold perfuming-pan. On the floor lay costly Arab rugs,and a couple of lion skins were thrown down on each side of the centremat. A _derbouka_, and a _ginkri_, fashioned from a tortoise-shell, laythrown aside, while from a magnificent hanging-lamp of gold a soft,mellow light was diffused, though scarcely sufficient to show the heavydraperies that concealed the walls.
"Best thee a moment, and I will return," my mysterious veiled guidesaid; and then, drawing aside some of the silken hangings, shedisappeared through a door that had been hidden.
With hands behind me, I slowly wandered round, wondering what apartmentof the house this was, when some half-finished embroidery that hadapparently been tossed hurriedly aside upon a coffee stool of inlaidpearl and silver caught my eye. That told me the truth. My heart gavea sudden bound. I was in the harem!
A French novel lay open on one of the little tables. I took it up, and,as I stood in wonderment, a movement behind me caused me to turn, andthen I beheld the most beautiful woman I had ever gazed upon. She wasnot more than twenty-two, with a complexion fresh as a Frenchwoman's,features that were perfect, pretty lips parted in a glad smile, and adress that was the most gorgeous I had ever seen. The ugly _haick_ hadbeen replaced by a _rlila_ of palest leaf-green brocaded silk, beneathwhich showed a rose-pink velvet vest; and, in the place of the baggytrousers, she wore the _serroual_, of silken gauze. Her tiny bare feetwere thrust into slippers of rose velvet; on her head was set jauntily alittle crimson skull-cap embroidered with seed-pearls; and her _fouta_,or sash, was of tricolour-striped silk, richly ornamented with gold.Upon her bare arms and ankles diamonds flashed and sparkled with athousand fires, and her bangles jingled as she moved. She dazzled andfascinated me.
With an apology for having left me, she sank slowly among her cushionswith graceful abandon, at the same time losing one of her slippers, andmotioning me to a seat near her.
"Thou thinkest it strange," she said; "perhaps even thou art angry, thatI have brought thee hither alone unto this gilded cage. But I mustspeak with thee, O Man of the Desert--to warn thee;" and her dimpledchin rested upon her dainty palm as she, with seriousness, lookedstraight into my eyes.
"To warn me! Of what?"
"Thou art threatened," she answered slowly. "Thou wilt, perhaps,remember that a month ago thou wert in Kabylia, and left Fort Nationalfor Tizi Ouzou. Thou hadst the careless indifference that thy free lifegiveth, and, no doubt, thou wert prepared to meet Eblis himself if hepromised an adventure. On that occas
ion with whom didst thou travel?"
"I journeyed in company of a wealthy man of thy people, who wasreturning from the wine market."
"True, O friend," she replied. "A week ago thou didst describe thatjourney to a Frank of the _Moniteur de l'Algerie_, and ridiculed thycompanion. See here!" and stretching forth her hand, she took up apaper containing an interview in which I had treated the journey in acomic vein, and had denounced in no measured terms the bigotry of myfellow-traveller.
"Thou art a Veiled Man; and that man," she continued, "hath sworn uponthe book of Everlasting Will to kill thee!"
"How dost thou know this, O thou whose face is rivalled only by thesun?" I asked quickly.
"Because--because the man thou hast ridiculed is my husband!" shereplied, rising, and adding wildly, "Because I