Suzanne returned with the jacket. She still looked
apprehensive, but she had put on her hat and fastened a sprig of red
geranium in the front of her black gown. The curiosity was in the
ascendant.
"We are not going quite alone, Mam'zelle?"
"No, no. Batouch will protect us."
Suzanne breathed a furtive sigh.
The poet was in the white arcade with Hadj, who looked both wicked
and deplorable, and had a shabby air, in marked contrast to Batouch's
ostentatious triumph. Domini felt quite sorry for him.
"You come with us too," she said.
Hadj squared his shoulders and instantly looked vivacious and almost
smart. But an undecided expression came into his face.
"Where is Madame going?"
"To see the village."
Batouch shot a glance at Hadj and smiled unpleasantly.
"I will come with Madame."
Batouch still smiled.
"We are going to the Ouled Nails," he said significantly to Hadj.
"I--I will come."
They set out. Suzanne looked gently at the poet's legs and seemed
comforted.
"Take great care of Mademoiselle Suzanne," Domini said to the poet. "She
is a little nervous in the dark."
"Mademoiselle Suzanne is like the first day after the fast of Ramadan,"
replied the poet, majestically.
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