"Not to-night!" Domini called out.
"Yes, Madame, to-night. The vie of Madame is there in the sand to-night.
Je la vois, je la vois. C'est la dans le sable to-night."
The moonlight showed the wound on his face. Suzanne uttered a cry and
hid her eyes with her hands. They went on towards the trees. Hadj walked
with hesitation.
"How loud the music is getting," Domini said to him.
"It will deafen Madame's ears if she gets nearer," said Hadj, eagerly.
"And the dancers are not for Madame. For the Arabs, yes, but for a great
lady of the most respectable England! Madame will be red with disgust,
with anger. Madame will have _mal-au-coeur_."
Batouch began to look like an idol on whose large face the artificer had
carved an expression of savage ferocity.
"Madame is my client," he said fiercely. "Madame trusts in me."
Hadj laughed with a snarl:
"He who smokes the keef is like a Mehari with a swollen tongue," he
rejoined.
The poet looked as if he were going to spring upon his cousin, but he
restrained himself and a slow, malignant smile curled about his thick
lips like a snake.
"I shall show to Madame a dancer who is modest, who is beautiful,
Hadj-ben-Ibrahim," he said softly.
Pages:
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217