I grew drowsy in the keef-laden air, despite the incessant uproar of the pipes. Suddenly I started Safti had touched me. "There is Oreïda, Sidi." I looked, and saw a lonely dancer entering from the court, large, weary, crowned with gold, tufted with feathers, wrinkled, with greedy, fatigued eyes, and hands painted blood-red. She was like an idol in its dotage.