"It would be cruel to my children to desert them sooner. Don't forget I
am malema--malema before all. And there will be time for seeing nearly
everything. We can go to Sidi Bou-Medine, afterwards to the ruins of
Mansourah by sunset. Meanwhile, show your friend the things near by,
without me; the old town, with its different quarters for the Jews, the
Arabs, and the Negroes. He will like the leather-workers and the bakers,
and the weavers of haïcks. And you will not need me for the Grande
Mosquée, or for the Mosquée of Aboul Hassan, where Monsieur Knight will
see the most beautiful mihrab in all the world. When he has looked at
that, he cannot be sorry he has come to Tlemcen; and if he has regrets,
Sidi Bou-Medine will take them away."
"Has Sidi Bou-Medine the power to cure all sorrows?" Stephen asked,
smiling.
"Indeed, yes. Why, Sidi Bou-Medine himself is one of the greatest
marabouts. You have but to take a pinch of earth from his tomb, and make
a wish upon it. Only one wish, but it is sure to be granted, whatever it
may be, if you keep the packet of earth afterwards, and wear it near
your heart."
"What a shame you never told me that before. The time I've wasted!"
exclaimed Nevill. "But I'll make up for it now. Thank Heaven I'm
superstitious."
They had forgotten Stephen, and laughing into each other's eyes, were
perfectly happy for the moment. Stephen was glad, yet he felt vaguely
resentful that they could forget the girl for whose sake the journey to
Tlemcen had ostensibly been undertaken. They were ready to squander
hours in a pretence of sightseeing, hours which might have been spent in
getting back to Algiers and so hastening on the expedition to Grand
Kabylia. How selfish people in love could be! And charming as Josette
Soubise was, it seemed strange to Stephen that she should stand for
perfection to a man who had seen Victoria Ray.
Nevill was imploring Josette to lunch with them, chaperoned by Madame de
Vaux, and Josette was firmly refusing. Then he begged that they might
leave money as a gift for the malema's scholars, and this offer she
accepted, only regretting that the young men could not be permitted to
give the _cadeau_ with their own hands. "My girls are so pretty," she
said, "and it is a picture to see them at their embroidery frames, or
the carpet making, their fingers flying, their eyes always on the
coloured designs, which are the same as their ancestresses used a
century ago, before the industry declined. I love them all, the dear
creatures, and they love me, though I am a Roumia and an unbeliever. I
ought to be happy in their affection, helping them to success. And now I
must run back to my flock, or the lambs will be getting into mischief.
Au revoir--five o'clock. You will find me waiting with Madame de Vaux."
At luncheon, in the bare, cool dining-room of the hotel, Nevill was like
a man in a dream. He sat half smiling, not knowing what he ate, hardly
conscious of the talk and laughter of the French officers at another
table. Just at the last, however, he roused himself. "I can't help being
happy. I see her so seldom. And I keep turning over in my mind what new
arguments in favour of myself I can bring forward when I propose this
afternoon--for of course I shall propose, if you and the bride will
kindly give me the chance. I know she won't have me--but I always do
propose, on the principle that much dropping may wear away a stone."
"Suppose you break the habit just for once," ventured Stephen.