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Updated: June 8, 2025
At this moment Batouch took hold of the curtains of the palanquin to draw them close, but she put out her hand and stopped him. She wanted to see the last of the church, of the tormented gardens she had learnt to love. He looked astonished, but yielded to her gesture, and told the camel-driver to make the animal rise to its feet. The driver took his stick and plied it, crying out, "A-ah! A-ah!"
In the distance, under the palms, he saw Batouch laughing with Ouardi. Near them Ali was reposing on a mat, moving his head from side to side, smiling with half-shut, vacant eyes, and singing a languid song. This music maddened him. "Batouch!" he called out sharply. "Batouch!" Batouch stopped laughing, glanced round, then came towards him with a large pace, swinging from his hips. "Monsieur?"
"Hadj can go home if he is afraid of anything in the dancing street," said Domini, rather maliciously. "Let us follow the soldiers." Hadj started as if he had been stung, and looked at Domini as if he would like to strangle her. "I am afraid of nothing," he exclaimed proudly. "Madame does not know Hadj-ben-Ibrahim." Batouch laughed soundlessly, shaking his great shoulders.
She was at the door of the sleeping-tent. He did not answer. "Boris!" He came in from the farther tent that he used as a dressing-room, carrying a lit candle in his hand. She went up to him with a movement of swift, ardent sincerity. "You felt ill in the city? Did Batouch let you come back alone?" "I preferred to be alone."
"Batouch!" she called softly. "Batouch!" He might be hidden under the arcade, sleeping in his burnous. "Batouch! Batouch!" No answer came. She stood by the parapet, waiting and looking down the road. All the stars had faded, yet there was no suggestion of the sun. She faced an unrelenting austerity.
Hadj followed her quickly, protesting. At the door was the man with the pitted white face and the thick lips. When he saw her he held out his hand. She gave him some money, he opened the door, and she came out into the night by the triple palm tree. Batouch stood there looking furious, with the bridles of two horses across his arm.
So, when the eager Mozabite merchants called to her she did not heed them, and even the busy patter of the informing Batouch fell upon rather listless ears. "I sha'n't stay here," she said to him. "But I'll buy some perfumes. Where can I get them?"
At the thought of the moon she drew up the reins that had been lying loosely on her horse's neck and rode some paces forward and away from the fires, still holding the revolver in her hand. Of what use would it be against the spectres of the Sahara? The Jew would face it without fear. Why not the horseman of Batouch? She dropped it into the pocket of the saddle.
It's easy to manage. Batouch will arrange it for me." Androvsky still looked startled, and half angry, she thought. They had pulled up their horses among the sand dunes. It was near sunset, and the breath of evening was in the sir, making its coolness even more ethereal, more thinly pure than in the daytime.
That thou mayst know the kiss that tells the love of women. "Janat! Janat! Janat!" Batouch stirred uneasily, pulled his hood from his eyes and looked into the storm gravely. Then he shifted on the camel's hump and said to Ali: "How shall we get to Arba? The wind is like all the Touaregs going to battle. And when we leave the oasis "
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