She seemed so wrapped in the ecstasy of the
dance that it did not occur to Domini at first that she was imitating
the Ouled Nail who had laid her greasy head upon the stranger's knees.
The abandonment of her performance was so great that it was difficult to
remember its money value to her and to Tahar, the fair Kabyle. Only when
she was actually opposite to them and stayed there, still performing her
shuddering dance, still holding the daggers above her head, did Domini
realise that those half-closed, passionate eyes had marked the stranger
woman, and that she must add one to the stream of golden coins. She
took out her purse but did not give the money at once. With the pitiless
scrutiny of her sex she noticed all the dancer's disabilities. She
was certainly young, but she was very worn. Her mouth drooped. At the
corners of her eyes there were tiny lines tending downward. Her forehead
had what Domini secretly called a martyred look. Nevertheless, she was
savage and triumphant. Her thin body suggested force; the way she held
herself consuming passion. Even so near at hand, even while she was
pausing for money, and while her eyes were, doubtless, furtively reading
Domini, she shed round her a powerful atmosphere, which stirred the
blood, and made the heart leap, and created longing for unknown and
violent things.
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