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Updated: April 30, 2025
He lived, he struggled with the inarticulate delirium of his thoughts under the eyes of the silent Aissa.
Aissa, sitting on the high after-deck, her father's blackened and bleeding head in her lap, looked up with fearless eyes at Babalatchi. "They shall find only smoke, blood and dead men, and women mad with fear there, but nothing else living," she said, mournfully. Babalatchi, pressing with his right hand the deep gash on his shoulder, answered sadly: "They are very strong.
All drank a little, for, said Lella Alonda, though strong drink was forbidden by the Prophet, the palms were dear to him, and besides, in the throats of good men and women, wine was turned to milk, as Sidi Aissa of the Christians turned water to wine at the marriage feast.
All would vanish in the unappeasable past which would swallow up all even the very memory of his temptation and of his downfall. Nothing mattered. He cared for nothing. He had forgotten Aissa, his wife, Lingard, Hudig everybody, in the rapid vision of his hopeful future. After a while he heard Aissa saying "A child! A child! What have I done to be made to devour this sorrow and this grief?
The tributes laid before the tomb of Cheikh Sidi El Hadj Ali ben Sidi El Hadj Aïssa are, doubtless, his perquisites as guardian of the saint. He dresses in silks of the tints of the autumn leaf, and carries in his mighty hand a staff hung with apple-green ribbons. And his smile is as the smile of the rising sun in an oleograph.
Mahmat and one of his brothers appeared coming up from the landing-place, their lances in their hands, to look for their passengers. Aissa coming now empty-handed out of the house, caught sight of the two armed men. In her surprise she emitted a faint cry, vanished back and in a flash reappeared in the doorway with Willems' revolver in her hand.
He thought himself very fearless, but as a matter of fact he was only drunk; drunk with the poison of passionate memories. He stretched his hands over the fire, looked round and called out "Aissa!" She must have been near, for she appeared at once within the light of the fire.
The old woman, who had been most of the time kneeling by the fire, now rose, glanced round fearfully and crouched hiding behind the tree. The gate of the great courtyard flew open with a great clatter before a frantic kick, and Willems darted in carrying Aissa in his arms.
He stood like a sentinel, the leaf-shaped blade of his lance glinting above his head. Willems spoke suddenly. "Give me this," he said, stretching his hand towards the revolver. Aissa stepped back. Her lips trembled. She said very low: "Your people?" He nodded slightly.
Once more he was on the defensive. The Count did not seem to notice it. Perhaps he was too radiant. "I hope I shall endure as well as you, Monsieur," he said. "I go to Beni-Hassan to visit Sidi El Hadj Aissa, one of the mightiest marabouts in the Sahara. In your Church," he added, turning again to Domini, "he would be a powerful Cardinal." She noticed the "your."
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