It was the great fast of Rhamadan, and the square of Biskra was crowded
with white-robed men waiting for the sun to set that they might eat.
The rough pavement was dotted with fires over which simmered pots
filled with what only a very jealous God indeed would have called food.
About them were huddled the traders from the bazaars, the camel-drivers
from the desert, the water-carriers from Bab el Derb. Each man held a
cigarette in his left hand and a match in his right. He would smoke
before he ate.
In the long arcades the camels, in from the Soudan, knelt, fasting. An
Arab led a tame lion into the square and the beast held back on his
chain as he passed the flesh-pots, for he, too, was fasting. Crowds of
little children stood about the circle of the fires, fasting. A God was
being placated by the sufferings of His creatures.
There is little twilight in the latitude of Biskra. There is the hard,
white light of the daytime, five minutes of lavender and running
shadows, and then the purple blackness of the night.
The mueddin took his place on the minaret of the mosque. His shadow ran
to the centre of the square and stopped. He cried his admonition, each
white-robed figure bowed to the earth in supplication, a cannon-shot at
the citadel split the hot air, and in an instant the square was dotted
with sparks. Each worshipper had struck his match. The fast was over
until sunrise.
The silence became a Babel. All fell to eating and to talking. A
marabout, graceful as a Greek statue, came out of the mosque and made
his way among the fires. As he passed, the squatting Mussulmans caught
at his robe and kissed it. Mirza, the mother of the Almee girls, her
golden necklaces glinting in the firelight, came walking by. As she
passed the marabout he drew back and held his white burnoose across his
face. She bent her knee and then went on, but as she passed she laughed
and whispered, "Which trade pays best, yours or mine?" and she shook
her necklaces.
"Daughter," said the marabout, "there is but one God."
"Yes," she replied, "but He has many prophets, and, of them all, you
are the most beautiful," and she went on.
An officer of _spahis_ rode in and, stopping his horse before the
arched door of the commandant, stood motionless. The square was filled
with color, with life, with foreignness, with the dancing flames, the
leaping shadows, the fumes of the cook-pots, the odor of Arabian
tobacco, the clamor of all the dialects of North Africa.
A bugle sounded. Out of a side street trotted a cavalcade. The iron
shoes of the horses rang on the pavement, and the steel chains of the
curbs tinkled. The commandant dismounted and gave his bridle to his
orderly.
The commandant walked through the square. He wore a fatigue cap, a
sky-blue blouse, with white loopings, white breeches, tight at the
knee, and patent-leather boots, with box spurs. He walked through the
square slowly, smoking cigarette after cigarette. He was not only the
commandant but he was the commissioner of police. With seventy men he
ruled ten thousand, and he knew his weakness. The knowledge of his
weakness was his strength.
As he walked through the square he met Mirza. He passed her without a
sign of recognition and she, on her part, was looking at the minaret of
the mosque.
In their official capacities they were strangers. On certain occasions,
when the commandant was in _mufti_ they had, at least, passed the time
of day. The commandant walked through the long rows of fires, speaking
to a merchant here, nodding to a date-grower there, casting quick
glances and saying nothing to the spies who, mingling with the people,
sat about the kouss-kouss pots, and reported to the commandant, each
morning, the date set for his throat-cutting. This was many years ago,
before there was a railroad to Biskra.
The commandant, having made the round of the fires, crossed over to his
house under the arcades. He dismissed the sergeant and the guard, and
they rode away to the barracks, the hoof-beats dying in the distance.
The _spahi_ remained, silent, motionless. The commandant was about to
enter his door, when a man sprang from behind one of the pillars of the
arcade and held out to him a paper. The commandant put his hands behind
his back. The _spahi_ edged his horse up closely.
"Who are you?" asked the commandant, in French.
The man shook his head, but still held out the paper.
"Who are you?" asked the commandant again, but now in Arabic.
"I am Ali, the slave of Abdullah," answered the man, "and he sends you
this letter."
The commandant remained motionless. "Will your horse stand, corporal?"
he asked of the _spahi_.
"Perfectly, my colonel."
"Leave him, then," said the commandant, "and bring one of your
pistols."
The _spahi_ gathered his long blue cloak off the quarters of his horse,
took a revolver from its holster, swung his right leg over his horse's
head, so that he might not for an instant turn his back, threw the
reins over his horse's neck, brought the heels of his red boots
together, saluted, and stood silent.
The horse began to play with the pendant reins and to shift his
loosened bit.
"Go in," said the commandant, and the _spahi_ opened the door. "You
next," and Ali followed. The commandant brought up the rear.
They entered at once not a hall but a room. So all Eastern houses are
ordered. A lamp was burning, the walls were hung with maps of France
and of North Africa, a few shelves held a few books and many tin cases
labelled "Forage," "Hospital," "Police." Behind a desk sat a little
man, dressed in black, who was dealing cards to himself in a game of
solitaire. He rose and bowed when the commandant entered, and then he
went on with his game.
"Stand there," said the commandant, pointing to a corner, "and put your
hands over your head."
Ali obeyed.
"Search him," said the commandant.
The _spahi_ began at Ali's hair and ended with his sandals.
"He has nothing," he reported.
"Now give me the letter," said the commandant.
Ali twisted himself, fumbled at his waist, and drew out a knife. He
placed it on the desk, smiling.
"Do not blame the corporal for overlooking this," he said; "I am so
thin from the journey that he took it for one of my ribs."
"I will trust you," said the commandant, and he took the letter.
The little man in black kept dealing solitaire.
The commandant read the letter to himself and laughed, and then he read
it aloud:
"_To Monsieur the COUNT D'APREMONT, Commandant at Biskra.
"MONSIEUR: Since last I saw you strange things have happened. I have
turned Christian, and I have married. I wonder at which of these
statements you will laugh most.
"May I bring my wife to your house? She will be the only Christian
woman in Biskra. Say 'yes' or 'no' to the bearer. I am halted a mile
outside of the town, awaiting your answer.
"Mirza, the mother of the Almees, has a certain claim upon my wife; how
valid I do not know. I need counsel, but first of all I need shelter.
May I come?_
"ABDULLAH."
"Of course he may come," said the commandant; "what is to prevent?"
"The law, perhaps," said the little man in black, shuffling the cards.
The commandant turned quickly. "Why the law, Monsieur the Chancellor?"
he asked.
"Because," answered the little man, still shuffling the cards, "he says
that Mirza has a certain claim upon his wife, how valid he does not
know; and he needs counsel and he needs shelter. When a man writes like
this, he also needs a lawyer;" and he commenced a new deal.
The commandant stood a moment, thinking. Then he raised his head with a
jerk, and said to Ali: "Tell your master that I say 'yes.'"
Ali made salaam and glided from the room.
"He has left his knife," said the lawyer.
The commandant turned to the _spahi_. "Corporal," he said, "go to the
citadel and bring back twelve men. Place six of them at the entrance of
the square, and six of them before my house. When Abdullah's caravan
has entered the square, have the further six close in behind. You may
take your time. It will be an hour before you are needed."
The _spahi_ saluted, and went out.
The commandant turned to the little man in black.
"Why in the world," he asked, "did you object to my harboring Abdullah?
He is my friend and yours. He is the best man that crosses the desert.
He has eaten our salt many times. If all here were like him, you and I
might go home to France, with our medals and our pensions."
"True," said the lawyer, gathering his cards, "and very likely there is
no risk in harboring him and his wife." He shuffled the cards
mechanically, his eyes fixed on the opposite wall.
"My friend," he said, at length, "whom do you consider the most
powerful person in Biskra, the person to be first reckoned with?"
The commandant laughed. "As I am in command," he said, "I should be
court-martialled if I denied my own superiority."
"And yet," said the lawyer, "you are only a poor second."
The commandant, who was sitting astride of his chair, his hands upon
its back, demi-vaulted as if he were in the saddle of a polo pony.
"What do you mean?" he demanded.
The lawyer kept shuffling the cards, but he paid no attention to them.
"Go to the window," he said, "and tell me what you see."
The commandant rose, and went to the window, his spurs jingling. He
drew the curtain and looked out.
"What do you see?" asked the counsellor.
"I see the square," answered the commandant, "with five hundred
kettle-lights, and three thousand Mussulmans gorging themselves, making
up lost time."
"Look over at the left corner," said the lawyer.
"I see the mosque," said the commandant, "with its lamps burning."
"There you have it," cried the lawyer. "This religion that you and I
are sent to conquer keeps its lamps burning constantly, while the
religion that comes to conquer lights its candles only for the mass.
Mankind loves light and warmth. What do you see now?"
"I see Mirza," replied the commandant; "she is walking up the centre
line of the fires. Now she stops. She meets a man, draws him hurriedly
aside, and is speaking close to his ear."
"Has he a green turban?" asked the lawyer. "Has he been to Mecca?"
"Yes," answered the commandant.
"There you see the most powerful person in Biskra," said the
counsellor.
"Who?" asked the commandant. "The man in the green turban?"
"No," said the lawyer, "the woman he is speaking to."
"Mirza?" exclaimed the commandant.
"Yes," said the lawyer. "The centre of affairs, since the world was
sent spinning, has always been a woman. Who placed the primal curse of
labor on the race? Was it the man, Adam, or the woman, Eve?"
"As I remember," said the commandant, "the serpent was the prime mover
in that affair."
"Yes," said the lawyer; "but being 'more subtile than any beast in the
field,' he knew that if he caught the woman the man would follow of his
own accord. Julius Caesar and Antony were dwarfed by Cleopatra. Helen
of Troy set the world ablaze. Joan of Arc saved France. Catharine I
saved Peter the Great. Catharine II made Russia. Marie Antoinette ruled
Louis XVI and lost a crown and her head. Fat Anne of England and Sarah
Jennings united England and Scotland. Eugénie and the milliners lost
Alsace and Lorraine. Victoria made her country the mistress of the
world. I have named many women who have played great parts in this
drama which we call life. How many of them were good women? By 'good' I
do not mean virtuous, but simply 'good.'"
"Out of your list," said the commandant, "I should name Joan of Arc and
Victoria."
"A woman," repeated the lawyer, "is the centre of every affair. When
you go back to France, what are you looking forward to?"
"My wife's kiss," said the commandant. "And you, since you are a
bachelor?"
"The scolding of my housekeeper," said the lawyer, and he shrugged his
shoulders.
The commandant laughed. "But what of Mirza?" he asked. "Why is she so
powerful?"
"For the same reason that your wife and my housekeeper are powerful,"
said the lawyer; "she is a woman."
"A woman here," said the commandant, "is a slave."
"A _good_ woman, I grant you," said the lawyer, "but a _bad_ woman, if
she chance to be beautiful, is an empress. Do you know how many men it
takes to officer a mosque of the first class, such a one as we have
here? Twelve," and he dropped the cards and began to count his fingers.
"Two _mueddins_ the chaps that call to prayer; two _tolbas_ who read
the litanies; two _hezzabin_, who read the Koran; a _mufti_ who
interprets the law; a _khetib_ who recites the prayer for the chief of
the government each Friday, and who is very unpopular; an _iman_ who
reads the five daily prayers; a _chaouch_ who is a secretary to the
last of the list, the _oukil_ who collects the funds and pays them out.
The _oukil_ is the man who governs the mosque. He is the man in the
green turban whom you saw talking with Mirza. They are partners. He
attends to the world, she to the flesh, and both to the devil. It is a
strong partnership. It is what, in America, they call a 'trust.' The
_oukil_ sends his clients to Mirza, and she sends hers to the _oukil_.
Look out of the window again. There are three thousand religionists who
have passed through the hands of the _oukil_ and Mirza, and she, making
the most money, has the last word. Do you ask, now, why she is the most
powerful person in Biskra?"
"It seems," said the commandant, "that it is because she is a woman,
and is bad."
"And beautiful," added the lawyer.
"Do you think her beautiful?" asked the commandant.
The lawyer thought a moment. "Did you ever see a hunting-leopard?" he
asked.
"No," said the commandant.
"I used to see them," said the lawyer, "when I was in Sumatra, looking
after the affairs of some Frenchmen who were buying pearls from the
oyster-beds of Arippo. They were horribly beautiful. Mirza reminds me
of them, especially when she seizes her prey. Most beasts of prey are
satisfied when they have killed all that they can devour; but the
hunting-leopard kills because she loves to kill. So does Mirza. She
destroys because she loves to destroy. A hunting-leopard and Mirza are
the only two absolutely cruel creatures I have ever seen. Of course,"
he added, "I eliminate the English, who deem the day misspent unless
they have killed something, and who give infinite pains and tenderness
to the raising of pheasants, that they may slaughter a record number
of them at a _battue_. Aside from a hunting-leopard and a hunting-
Englishman, I know of no being so cruel as Mirza; no being that
takes such delight in mere extermination. They used to call our
nobility, in the time of Louis XIV and Louis XV, cruel, but they did
not kill, they merely taxed. In the height of the ancient _régime_, it
was not good form to kill a peasant, because then the country had one
less taxpayer. The height of the art was to take all the peasant had
and then to induce him to set to work again. When he had earned another
surplus, his lord came and took it. France had an accomplished
nobility. England had a brutal one. The latter used to take all the
eggs out of the nest and then kill the hen. The French noble took all
the eggs but one or two, and spared the hen. He could rob a nest a
dozen times and his English contemporary could rob it but once."
"My friend," said the commandant, laughing, "you reassure me. When you
begin comparing England with France, I know that you have nothing of
importance at hand and that your mind is kicking up its heels in
vacation. You have a charming mind, my friend, but it has been
prostituted to the law. If you had been bred a soldier--"
He stopped, because the murmur of the square suddenly stopped. The
cessation of a familiar clamor is more startling than a sudden cry. The
two men ran to the window. The fires under the pots were still burning
and the square was light as day. At the opposite side, where the
caravan road debouched, three thousand white-robed Mussulmans stood,
silent. Above them the commandant and the lawyer could see the heads of
the six _spahis_, they and their horses silent. Beyond, were the heads
of many camels. The commandant threw up the sash. Across the silent
square came a woman's voice, speaking Arabic in the dialect of Ouled
Nail.
"That is Mirza," said the lawyer.
Then there came a man's voice, evidently in reply.
"That is Abdullah," said the lawyer.
"How can you distinguish at this distance?" asked the commandant.
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. "While you are drilling your
soldiers," he said, "I am drilling myself. If a man yonder sneezes, I
can name his tribe. A sneeze, being involuntary, cannot be artificial,
and therefore it is the true index of race and character. Take the
Oriental Express any night from Paris to Vienna. If you will sit up
late enough and walk up and down the aisle, you may tell from the
sneezes and the coughs the nationality of the occupant of each berth. A
German sneezes with all his might, and if there is a compatriot within
hearing he says, '_Gesundheit_.' An Italian sneezes as if it were a
crime, with his hand over his face."
"Hush," said the commandant.
Out from the white-robed crowd came two forms, Mirza and the _oukil_.
Mirza held a paper in her hand. They went to the nearest fire and Mirza
gave the paper to the man with the green turban. He read it, thought a
moment, read it again, and then the two went back to the silent crowd
by the mosque. There was conversation, there were vehement exclamations
which, if they had been in English, would have been oaths--there was a
sudden movement of the horses and the camels; the outskirts of the
crowd surged and broke, and then, above their heads, flashed the sabres
of the _spahis_.
The commandant went to the door. "Corporal," he said, "take your men to
the mosque, join your comrades, and bring to me Abdullah, his wife,
Mirza, and the _oukil_."
The corporal saluted, gave an order, and the little troop trotted
across the square. The commandant closed the shutters of the window.
"I do not care to see the row," he said, and he lit a cigarette. But if
he did not see the row, he heard it, for presently came the yelp and
snarl of an Oriental mob.
"It is growing warm," said the commandant. "Hospitality cannot be
lightly practised here."
"Nor anywhere," said the lawyer, who had resumed his cards; "because it
is a virtue, and the virtues are out of vogue. The only really
successful life, as the world looks upon success now, is an absolutely
selfish life. It is the day of specialists, of men with one idea, one
object, and the successful man is the one who permits nothing to come
between him and his object. Wife, children, honor, friendship, ease,
all must give place to the grand pursuit; be it the gathering of
wealth, the discovery of a disease germ, the culture of orchids, or the
breeding of a honey-bee that works night and day. Human life is too
short to permit a man to do more than one thing well, and money is
becoming so common that its possessors require the best of everything."
"Old friend," said the commandant, "you are a many-sided man, and yet
you are one of the best lawyers in France."
"You have said it," exclaimed the lawyer; "_one_ of the best, not _the_
best. The one thing I have earnestly striven for I have not attained."
"What is that?" asked the commandant. "Do you wish to be Minister of
Justice?"
"No," said the lawyer; "but I should like to be known as the best
player of Napoleon solitaire."
A sabre-hilt rapped on the door.
"Enter," cried the commandant.
The door opened, and there entered first the sharp cries of the mob,
and then the corporal, Abdullah, a woman clothed all in white, the
_oukil_, and, last of all, Mirza. The moment she was within the room
she dominated it. The other occupants were blotted out by comparison.
She entered, debonair, smiling, and, as she crossed the threshold, she
flung up her hand in a military salute.
"Hail, my masters," she cried in Arabic. "Would you believe it? but
just now I was nearly robbed, before your windows, of merchandise that
cost me thirty ounces."
"Be good enough to speak French," said the commandant; "it is the
etiquette of the office."
"And to you?" exclaimed Mirza, in the speech of Paris, "to you, who
speak such charming Arabic. It was only last week, the evening you did
me the honor of supping with me, that Miriam--perhaps you will pay her
the compliment of remembering her--the little girl who played and
danced for you, and who, when you were going, hooked on your sword for
you, and gave you a light from her cigarette?--well, Miriam said, when
you were gone, 'It is a pity the gracious commandant speaks any
language save Arabic, he speaks that so convincingly.' What could you
have whispered to her, Monsieur le Commandant, as you left my poor
house?"
The commandant moved nervously in his chair and glanced out of the
corner of his eye at the lawyer, who had resumed his cards. Reassured
by the apparent abstraction of his friend, the commandant gathered
himself and essayed a pleasantry.
"I told her," he said, "that if she lived to be twice her age, she
might be half as beautiful as you."
Mirza made an exaggerated courtesy and threw a mocking kiss from her
finger-tips. "I thought," she said, "that a woman's age was something
that no well-bred Frenchman would speak of." Then she drew herself up
and her face, from mocking, became hard and cruel.
"I know," she said, slowly, "that I am old. I am eight-and-twenty. I
was a wife at twelve, and a mother at thirteen. Such matters are
ordered differently here, Monsieur. A girl is a woman before she has
had any childhood. I married Ilderhim. Of course, I had never seen him
until we stood before the cadi. I had the misfortune to bear him a
daughter, and he cursed me. When I was fourteen, a Russian Grand Duke
came to Biskra and my husband sold me to him. I refused to submit
myself. Then Ilderhim beat me and turned me out of his house. You
understand, Monsieur le Commandant, that under our blessed religion a
man may have as many wives as he chooses and may divorce them when he
chooses. Well, there I was, without a husband, without a home, without
my child, and I passed the night in the arcades, among the camels. The
next morning I went to the hotel and asked for the Grand Duke.
'Monsieur,' I said to him, 'I am Mirza. I would not _sell_ myself to
you, but if you will take me as a gift, behold, here am I.' He took me
to Paris, to Vienna, to St. Petersburg. For a year he did not tire of
me. That was a long time for a savage to amuse a Grand Duke, was it
not? Then one day he gave me money, bade me keep the jewels he had
given me, and sent me back to Biskra. Since then I have been, first a
dancing-girl, and then, the mother of them all. I have never given the
authorities any trouble. I have observed the laws of France. What will
the laws of France do for me?" and she handed to the commandant the
invoice which Abdullah had brought with his freight.
The commandant read the paper and his face grew troubled.
"Chancellor," he said, "is this binding?"
The lawyer read the paper twice. "Yes," he said, "it is a mere hiring;
it is not a sale. I don't see how we can interfere."
"Mirza," said the commandant, "it seems that you have a good contract,
under Moslem law."
"Excellent," cried the _oukil_, rubbing his hands.
"Silence," thundered the commandant. "Speak French, and that only when
you are spoken to. Abdullah, have you anything which you wish to say to
me?"
Abdullah bent and whispered in the ear of the girl who sat trembling;
then he stepped forward.
"Monsieur le Commandant," he said, "will you have the kindness to read
this?" and he held out a paper. It was yellow with age and of quarto
size and twice folded. The commandant took it, unfolded it, and read
aloud, "_The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen_."
"Why, this is the last page of a Bible," he said.
"I do not know," said Abdullah. "He tore it from a book upon his table.
It was the only paper that he had. Upon the other side is writing."
The commandant reversed the paper and again read:
_THIS is to Certify that on the nineteenth day of February,
187-, in the Oasis of Zama, in the Great Sahara, having first
baptized them, I did unite in marriage Philip (formerly Abdullah)
and Marie (formerly Nicha), in accordance with the rites of our
holy Church_.
JOSEPH,
_Who Keeps Goats_.
_Witness_,
his
Ali, _the son of Ali_ X
mark
her
ZINA, _parentage unknown_ X
mark
"Ah, ha," exclaimed the lawyer, "this changes the complexion of
affairs," and he threw the cards upon the floor. "I could swear to
Joseph's handwriting, I have his IOU's, but as I am now sitting as a
magistrate, I cannot swear to anything. Where are the witnesses,
Abdullah?"
"With the camels, across the square," said Abdullah; "if you will
permit the corporal to go for them--"
"Pardon," said the _oukil_; "if I am permitted to speak I can save you
the trouble. We admit all that the goatherd certifies."
"Then," said the chancellor, "you admit yourselves out of court, since,
if one Christian marries another, the law of France obtains, and this
contract which Mirza produces is abhorrent to the law of France, being
immoral."
"Pardon," said the _oukil_. "In every word you speak I recognize my
master, but is it not possible that my master may nod? As one of a
conquered people, I have studied the code of my conqueror. It is true
that a religious ceremony has been performed here, but how about the
civil marriage which, as I read the French code, is absolutely
necessary?"
The lawyer sat silent. Then he put out his hand. "My friend," he said,
"I have done you a great wrong. I have looked upon you as a mere
religionist. It seems that you are a student. You remind me of my duty.
I, as the chief legal officer of this colony, should marry these people
at once. Thank you many times for reminding me."
"Pardon," said the _oukil_; "but if I have read the laws of France
aright, there cannot be a civil marriage without the consent of the
parents."
"My friend," said the lawyer, "will you place me doubly in your debt by
shaking hands with me a second time? If you were to exchange your green
turban for the silk hat of the boulevards, your photograph would soon
be in the shops. You know my law much better than I know yours, and I
shake hands with you intellectually, not socially. Who is your father,
Abdullah?" he asked.
"I do not know his name," answered Abdullah; "he was a camel-driver of
the Sahara."
"And your mother?" asked the lawyer.
"How can one, born as I, know his mother?" replied Abdullah.
"And you," said the lawyer, turning to Nicha, "who is your father?"
"Ilderhim of El Merb," she answered.
"And your mother?" asked the lawyer.
"She died before I can remember."
"Her father, Ilderhim," said the _oukil_, "signs the invoice which you
have read. He does not consent."
"He is nobody," said the lawyer. "He was banished from Algeria years
ago. It is as though he had never existed."
"I had overlooked that," said the _oukil_; and then he added, "As the
mistake this time is mine, perhaps you will again shake hands."
"No," said the lawyer; "I pay penance only when I am in the wrong."
The _oukil_ bowed low, but when he drew himself up to his full height
there was murder in his eye.
"Well," said the commandant, "what is the solution?"
"I advise you," said the lawyer, "that this contract comes under the
law of France and is void, because it is immoral and opposed to public
policy. It comes under the law of France because the young woman is a
Christian and has married a Christian. The religious marriage is
complete. The civil marriage is only delayed that the young woman may
present proofs of her mother's death. Her father is already civilly
dead."
"Mirza," said the commandant, "do you hear?"
"Yes," she said, "I hear, and, being a woman, I am accustomed to such
decisions. I pay thirty ounces to Ilderhim for two years' hire of a
girl. The girl turns Christian and I lose the thirty ounces."
"Not so," said Abdullah; "they are here," and he placed a bag upon the
commandant's table.
"Take it," said Mirza; and she tossed it to the _oukil_.
"To make his contract good," she continued, "Ilderhim, my former
husband, pays sixteen or seventeen ounces' freight on the girl and her
maid. The girl turns Christian. Who loses the freight?"
"I," said Abdullah, and he placed another bag upon the table.
"Take it," said Mirza, and the _oukil_ grasped it.
"Let us see this girl who has kept us all up so late," said Mirza, and
she strode over to Nicha. Abdullah put out his hand to keep her off.
"You've won," she said; "why be disagreeable? Let us see what you have
gained and I have lost," and she stripped the veil and the outer
garment from the girl, who sat passive. When the veil and the burnoose
fell, the beauty of the girl filled the room as would a perfume.
The commandant and the lawyer sat speechless, gazing. The _oukil_ wrung
his hands and exclaimed: "What have we lost!" Abdullah stood, proud and
happy. The corporal at the door shifted his feet and rattled his
side-arms, and Mirza laughed. Then she stepped back a pace; the
laughter died upon her lips, and her hands flew to her bosom.
"Little one," she said, "the life you would have lived with me would
not have been so hard when one remembers what the life of woman is, at
best. It is to amuse, to serve, to obey. You are too young to
understand. You are, perhaps, fourteen?"
"Yes," said Nicha.
"When I was fourteen," said Mirza, "I too was beautiful; at least my
husband and my mirror told me so. There is something in your face that
reminds me of the face I used to see in my glass, but when one grows
old, and I am eight-and-twenty, one is sure to see resemblances that do
not exist. How prettily they have dressed you! Did Ilderhim, your
father, give you these silks and these emeralds?"
"Yes," said Nicha.
"If you are hoping to be a good wife," said Mirza, "you must not think
too much of silks and jewels. When I was in Paris, with the Grand Duke,
I noticed that the women who had sold themselves had taken their pay in
pearls and diamonds. The honest women went more soberly. I see you are
of the old tribe--the tribe of Ouled Nail. Let me see your name."
She raised the filigree medallion that hung upon Nicha's upper arm. She
looked at the tattooed crest, started, drew her hand across her eyes,
looked again, and fell to trembling. She stood a moment, swaying, and
then she staggered to the commandant's table. She rested one hand upon
it and with the other she began playing with Ali's knife. Her face was
gray but her lips were pitifully smiling.
"Monsieur the Chancellor," she said, each word a sob, "you need no
longer delay the civil marriage.--I consent to it,--This is my
daughter.--It seems," she added, in a whisper, "that Allah has not
altogether forgotten me.--He has saved my child from me." And with an
exceeding bitter cry she went out.