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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Garden of Allah"


"I am going out riding."
He looked astonished.
"In the night?"
"Yes. Batouch has gone to fetch the horses."
Hadj's face became a mask of sulkiness.
"If Madame goes out with Batouch she will be killed. There are robbers
in the desert, and Batouch is afraid of--"
"Could we see the strange and wonderful thing in an hour?" she
interrupted.
The gay and skittish expression returned instantly to his face.
"Yes, Madame."
"What is it?"
He shook his head and made an artful gesture with his hand in the air.
"Madame shall see."
His long eyes were full of mystery, and he moved towards the staircase.
"Come, Madame."
Domini laughed and followed him. She felt as if she were playing a game,
yet her curiosity was roused. They went softly down and slipped out of
the hotel like children fearing to be caught.
"Batouch will be angry. There will be white foam on his lips," whispered
Hadj, dropping his chin and chuckling low in his throat. "This way,
Madame."
He led her quickly across the gardens to the Rue Berthe, and down a
number of small streets, till they reached a white house before which,
on a hump, three palm trees grew from one trunk.


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