She will not wear the veil, but she could give a
knife-thrust if he were to look at another woman as he has looked at
her, as he will look at her to-morrow. She is proud as a Touareg and
there is fierceness in her. But he will never look at another woman as
he will look at her to-morrow. The Roumi is not as we are."
The wind came back to join its sound with the drum, imprisoning the two
Arabs in a muttering circle.
"They will not care," said Batouch. "They will go out into the storm
without fear."
The sand pattered more sharply on his eyelids. He drew back into the
cafe. Ali followed him, and they squatted down side by side upon the
ground and looked before them seriously. The noise of the wind increased
till it nearly drowned the noise of the negro's drum. Presently the
one-eyed owner of the cafe brought them two cups of coffee, setting the
cups near their stockinged feet. They rolled two cigarettes and smoked
in silence, sipping the coffee from time to time. Then Ali began to
glance towards the negro. Half shutting his eyes, and assuming a languid
expression that was almost sickly, he stretched his lips in a smile,
gently moving his head from side to side.
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