On over the barren sand-hills, always in the track of the setting sun,
each day passed much as its predecessor. I was no stranger to Northern
Africa, for the wild, free life, unshackled by conventionalities, had a
fascination for me, and consequently I had accompanied caravans through
Tunis and Tripoli, and had wandered a good deal in Morocco. In the
course of these journeys I had learned to love the Arabs, and had formed
the acquaintance of many powerful Sheikhs, several of whom I now counted
among my most faithful and devoted friends. Indeed, it was to join one
of them, the head of the Tedjehe-N'ou-Sidi, that I was now on my way
south to Zamlen, in the Afelele region.
After three years among the True Believers, I had at last overcome most
of the difficulties of language, and could converse with them in their
own tongue. It may have been this which commended itself to pious old
Ali Ben Hafiz, for throughout our journey he was particularly gracious,
though he bored me sometimes with his constant objurgatory remarks
regarding Infidels in general and myself in particular. Once in
exuberance of spirits I so far forgot myself as to whistle a popular
English air, and although we were excellent friends, he reprimanded me
so severely that I am not likely to forget that among the followers of
the Prophet whistling is forbidden.
One morning, while riding together soon after dawn, he surprised me by
suddenly observing in a grave tone--
"Thou art young and of good stature. It surpriseth me that thou dost
not return to thine own people and take a wife from among them."
"Why should I marry?" I asked, laughing. "While I am alone, I wander
at my own inclination; if I married, my actions would be ruled by
another."
"Because ere the sun had risen this morning a camel had placed its hoof
upon thy spittle," he answered, looking at me with his keen serious eyes
that age had not dimmed. "It is an omen. _'Ty-ib bi'chire Allah
yosallimak_!"
"An omen! Of what?" I asked.
"Of impending evil."
"But we English believe not in superstition; neither have we witches nor
sorcerers," I replied, smiling.
"Infidels have no need of them," he retorted, angrily. "Only True
Believers will behold the great lote tree, or quench their thirst at
Salsabil, Allah be thanked!"
"But this strange omen--what particular misfortune is it supposed to
presage?" I inquired eagerly, astonished at the vehemence of his
denunciation.
"Hearken, and take heed," he said, earnestly. "Thou art young, and as
yet no woman hath captivated thee. Do I give utterance to the truth?"
"Yes," I answered. "As yet I have never been enmeshed."
"Then beware! There will be a day when thy life will be lightened by
the rays of a woman's face, rivalled only by the sun. Her eyes will be
brilliant as the gazelle's, her cheeks will bear the bloom of the peach,
and her lips will be sweet as the fresh-blown rose. In those eyes the
love-light will flash, those cheeks will blush at thine approach, and
those lips will meet with passion thy caress. Then remember the words
of Ali Ben Hafiz. Remember the Omen of the Camel's Hoof!" We rode on
together in silence for some minutes. I was pondering over his strange
words.
"On the auspicious day when I meet this paragon of beauty which you
prophesy, how am I to act?" I asked presently.
"Act?" he cried. "Do nothing. Return not her caresses. Cast her from
thee even though she be one of the houris of Paradise, and--"
"Will she be a Moor, an Arab, or one of mine own people?" I inquired,
interrupting him.
"Ask me not. I am no prophet, though this is not the first time I have
seen similar cases to thine. The Omen of the Camel's Hoof hath been
revealed--and it is fatal."
"Fatal?" I cried in alarm. "What dost thou mean? Am I to die?"
"It resulteth in death--sometimes. It is always fatal to love."
"Have others succumbed, then?" I asked.
"Yes, alas!" he said, with knit brows and a curiously thoughtful
expression. "One case occurred in mine own family. My nephew, who was
of about the same age as thou art, had the distinctive mark between the
eyes, the same as thou hast upon thy countenance. After the last Fast
of Ramadan, he took the caravan of his father and journeyed for one moon
west to Duera, in Morocco. Before the sun had risen on the last day of
Doul Hadja, the camel he was riding, alas! stepped upon his spittle.
His tent-man, a Biskri well versed in anthroposcopy, told him of the
ominous warning, but he ridiculed it, saying that Kamra Fathma, the
daughter of the cadi at Bona, was already betrothed unto him, and that
he could never look with admiration upon another woman's face. The Omen
had been revealed; its warning was, alas! disregarded."
"What was the result?" I inquired, rather alarmed at my friend's
extraordinary prophetic demeanour.
"Ah, the result? It was fatal! A week later he who scoffed at the
humble tent-man's words crossed the Figuig into the land of our lord the
Sultan. There, at Sidi Mumen, he chanced to pass the daughter of the
Basha on foot. An ill wind blew aside her veil, and he gazed for a
second upon her uncovered face. The lines of her fatal beauty were in
that instant graven deeply upon his heart, and he loved her violently,
casting aside the pretty Kamra, his betrothed at Bona. Tarrying long
near the woman who had fascinated him, he succeeded in earning the good
graces of the Basha, and at length married her."
He paused, and, drawing a long breath, pulled his burnouse more tightly
around his shoulders.
"Well, if he succeeded in marrying her, the Omen of the Camel's Hoof
could not have been fatal to love," I argued.
"But it was!" he replied quickly. "After his marriage, he remained in
Sidi Mumen, and set up a large house, and his wife had many slaves."
"Was he not happy?"
"For three moons, and then--"
"And then?"
"The prophecy was fulfilled. He took a cup of tea too much. [An
expression used by the Moors, poison being invariably administered in
tea.] The woman who had entranced him and obtained his money was verily
a daughter of Eblis. She poisoned him!"
"Horrible!" I said. "I hope mine will not be a similar fate."
The old man, who, before setting out on his journey, had without doubt
promised a feast to his favourite marabout in return for the latter's
all-powerful prayers for his safety, shrugged his shoulders, but
answered nothing.