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As I very seldom receive visits, and my friend George, the spahi, always comes on foot, I thought it must be my notary coming to stir me up about some business matters; he had been reproaching me the last fortnight for neglecting them. The carriage stopped in front of the doorsteps. I heard the servants running across the antichamber.

The characters are of humble station and their life is as simple as their soul. Aziyade, The Romance of a Spahi, An Iceland Fisherman, Ramuntcho, all present the story of a love and a separation. A departure, or death itself, intervenes to put an end to the romance.

"A woman who marries gives herself to her husband's nation as well as to her husband, doesn't she especially if he's an Arab? Only, thank God, it happens to very few European girls, except of the class that doesn't so much matter. Think of it. This Ben Halim, a Spahi officer, falls dead in love with a girl when he's on leave in Paris. He feels he must have her. He can get her only by marriage.

He was a Spahi, stationed in Algiers, and he owned a house there." "Ah, in Algiers!" Stephen began to see light rather a lurid light. "Yes. His name was Cassim ben Halim el Cheikh el Arab. Before he had known Saidee two weeks, he proposed. She took a little while to think it over, and I begged her to say 'no' but one day when Mrs.

"Don't do that, but go this afternoon and find me a horse. I don't want a quiet one, but something with devil, something that a Spahi would like to ride." The desert spirits were speaking to her body as well as to her mind. A physical audacity was stirring in her, and she longed to give it vent. "Madame is like the lion. She is afraid of nothing." "You speak without knowing, Batouch.

He told me that he was on the way to El Arba, a long journey through the desert from Sidi-Massarli, and that his business was to convey there the man at the end of the cord. "But what is he? A prisoner?" I asked. "A murderer, monsieur," the Spahi replied calmly. I looked again at the man, who was wiping the sweat from his face with one huge hand. He smiled and made a gesture of assent.

"Le Roman d'un Spahi," a record of the melancholy adventures of a soldier in Senegambia, belongs to 1881. In 1882 Loti issued a collection of short studies under the general title of "Fleurs d'Ennui."

"Very little, mon Caporal!" said Picpon eagerly. "A mere nothing a bagatelle! Run a Spahi through the stomach, that is all. I don't think the man is so much as dead, even!" "I hope not, indeed. When will you cease this brawling among yourselves? A soldier's blade should never be turned upon men of his own army. How did it happen?" "A woman! They quarreled about a little fruit-seller.

The meeting of the young Spahi with Craven in Paris had led to the discovery of similar tastes and ultimately to an intimate friendship. Together in Algeria they had shot panther and Barbary sheep and eventually Craven had been induced to visit the tribe, where he had seen the true life of the desert that appealed strongly to his unconventional wandering disposition.

I therefore suggested to the Spahi that he should remain in the Café Maure and drink a cup of coffee at my expense. "And where is monsieur going?" "Only over that hill for a moment." "I will accompany monsieur." "But you must be tired. A cup of " "I will accompany monsieur." In Arab fashion he was establishing a claim upon me.