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Updated: May 26, 2025
But" those voices of the singing sailors were beginning almost to obsess her "are all the boatmen Nubians then?" "Nao!" he replied, with a sudden cockney accent. "But these that are singing?" "I say they are Noobian peoples, my lady. They are Mahmoud Baroudi's Noobian peoples." "Baroudi's sailors!" said Mrs. Armine. She sat up straight in her chair. "But Mahmoud Baroudi isn't here, at Luxor?"
Mrs. Armine nodded. Ibrahim stretched out his arm towards the Nile. "Those are his Noobian peoples. They come from his dahabeeyah. It is at Luxor, waiting for him. They have nuthin' to do, and so they make the fantasia to-night." "He is coming here to Luxor?" Ibrahim nodded his head calmly. "He is comin' here to Luxor, my lady, very nice man, very good man.
She put his flower in the front of her gown, opening her cloak to do so. "They seem to get nearer and nearer. Are they coming down the river?" "I s'pose they are in a felucca, my lady. They are Noobian peoples. They always make that song. It is a pretty song." He gently moved his head, following the rhythm of the music.
The oars sounded in the water, mingling with the voices of the men, whose vague, uncertain forms, some crouched, some standing up, some leaning over the river, that was dyed with streaks of light into which the shining drops fell back from the lifted blades, were half revealed to the watchers above them in the garden. "Here come the Noobian peoples!"
He heard a sound, almost as if a soft-footed animal were padding towards him. "My gentlemans, the Noobian peoples waitin' for what you say to the nice lady." Isaacson got up and looked over the rail. Below lay a white felucca containing two sailors, splendidly handsome black men, who were squatting on their haunches and smoking cigarettes.
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