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Updated: June 4, 2025
He said, too, that when he came back from Morocco City he should go straight off to the Riff and get work there; and Tahara would be left again. Such is the custom of the country: the husband may go off for a year, at intervals returning to his wife, whom he leaves generally under some sort of supervision.
"Who has eaten this?" R. asked in scanty Arabic. The remedy of hot boiled milk rushed into both our heads at once, but Tahara was again beginning in a fresh agony, which was now more persistent than only terrified; and choking off her stream of words, we managed to gather, that what she wanted was to go herself with me into the city, at once, to Miss Z . Now a few drops of prussic acid of course meant that she had not long to live, and yet there were no symptoms of poisoning so far as we could gather at present.
We were crossing the cemetery now by one of the intricate paths which intersect it. There seemed not a soul within sight or sound. Every Moor would be inside his house or hut. I hoped Tahara would pull herself together and last as far as Miss Z 's. She said she was bueno, meaning good, better, and spoke again of the bottle which she was carrying carefully hidden in her waistband.
And yet he had been once to Fez and to Morocco City: he was a travelled man. Possibly he had a more remunerative billet in view, or was homesick, or jealous about Tahara. After all, whatever the reason, his line of conduct was only distinctly Moorish, and characteristic of a race in which, as a whole, no wise man places great reliance.
It was a cheering sight to see at last a little light far away in the valley where our house lay the only light visible. R. had left the curtains undrawn. In good time we reached the garden-house. I took Tahara straight into the bedroom, S`lam going to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Early next morning Maman appeared, which neither of us liked, but she had come ostensibly to ask after Tahara, who had quite recovered. I walked into the city, and went to the Mission House to see Miss Z . The chicken was quite as well as Tahara, and the liquid which at least one of them had taken was probably water. Even so, the mystery was not cleared up.
Two more narrow lanes, a last winding alley, and the welcome door of the tabiba's never more welcome. I called to Miss Z as I led Tahara into the courtyard. Her answering voice was all I would have prayed for at that moment. She was just starting with S`lam.
Having found Jinan Dolero, and furnished it after a fashion, we still lacked servants, and they seemed to be almost as difficult to meet with as houses that is, trustworthy ones. Again, however, we were fortunate. A soldier-servant who had lived with a missionary happened to have nothing to do, and agreed to come to us with his young wife, Tahara.
Tahara was a pretty, pale, dark girl, with curious cabalistic Riffi marks tattooed in blue on her forehead and chin.
Arrived at the city gate, it was shut. I had a strange wait alone with Tahara and Maman, while S`lam fetched a soldier to unbar the gate. The basha's leave had to be got, and the basha sent to the English Vice-Consul to ask if it was his will that the gate should be opened for a British subject. Eventually we got through, all except Maman, who said good-night and went home.
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