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Updated: June 13, 2025
At right angles was the street of the dancers, narrow, bounded with the low white houses of the ouleds, twinkling with starry lights, humming with voices, throbbing with the clashing music that poured from the rival cafes maures, thronged with the white figures of the desert men, strolling slowly, softly as panthers up and down.
She stood for a moment to look, then she turned away. There was an expression of disgust in her eyes. "No, I don't want to see children," she said. "That's too " She glanced at her escort and did not finish. "I know," said Batouch. "Madame wishes for the real ouleds." He led them across the street. Hadj followed reluctantly.
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