the garden of allah-第23章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


Hadj…ben…Ibrahim；〃　he　said　softly。

〃Fatma　is　sick；〃　said　Hadj；　quickly。

〃It　will　not　be　Fatma。〃

Hadj　began　suddenly　to　gesticulate　with　his　thin；　delicate　hands　and
to　look　fiercely　excited。

〃Halima　is　at　the　Fontaine　Chaude；〃　he　cried。

〃Keltoum　will　be　there。〃

〃She　will　not。　Her　foot　is　sick。　She　cannot　dance。　For　a　week　she　will
not　dance。　I　know　it。〃

〃AndIrena？　Is　she　sick？　Is　she　at　the　Hammam　Salahine？〃

Hadj's　countenance　fell。　He　looked　at　his　cousin　sideways；　always
showing　his　teeth。

〃Do　you　not　know；　Hadj…ben…Ibrahim？〃

〃/Ana　ma　'audi　ma　nek　oul　lek！/〃＇*＇　growled　Hadj　in　his　throat。

＇*＇　〃I　have　nothing　to　say　to　you。〃

They　had　reached　the　end　of　the　little　street。　The　whiteness　of　the
great　road　which　stretched　straight　through　the　oasis　into　the　desert
lay　before　them；　with　the　statue　of　Cardinal　Lavigerie　staring　down　it
in　the　night。　At　right　angles　was　the　street　of　the　dancers；　narrow；
bounded　with　the　low　white　houses　of　the　ouleds；　twinkling　with　starry
lights；　humming　with　voices；　throbbing　with　the　clashing　music　that
poured　from　the　rival　/cafes　maures/；　thronged　with　the　white　figures
of　the　desert　men；　strolling　slowly；　softly　as　panthers　up　and　down。
The　moonlight　was　growing　brighter；　as　if　invisible　hands　began　to　fan
the　white　flame　of　passion　which　lit　up　Beni…Mora。　A　patrol　of
Tirailleurs　Indigenes　passed　by　going　up　the　street；　in　yellow　and
blue　uniforms；　turbans　and　white　gaiters；　their　rifles　over　their
broad　shoulders。　The　faint　tramp　of　their　marching　feet　was　just
audible　on　the　sandy　road。

〃Hadj　can　go　home　if　he　is　afraid　of　anything　in　the　dancing　street；〃
said　Domini；　rather　maliciously。　〃Let　us　follow　the　soldiers。〃

Hadj　started　as　if　he　had　been　stung；　and　looked　at　Domini　as　if　he
would　like　to　strangle　her。

〃I　am　afraid　of　nothing；〃　he　exclaimed　proudly。　〃Madame　does　not　know
Hadj…ben…Ibrahim。〃

Batouch　laughed　soundlessly；　shaking　his　great　shoulders。　It　was
evident　that　he　had　divined　his　cousin's　wish　to　supplant　him　and　was
busily　taking　his　revenge。　Domini　was　amused；　and　as　they　went　slowly
up　the　street　in　the　wake　of　the　soldiers　she　said：

〃Do　you　often　come　here　at　night；　Hadj…ben…Ibrahim？〃

〃Oh；　yes；　Madame；　when　I　am　alone。　But　with　ladies〃

〃You　were　here　last　night；　weren't　you；　with　the　traveller　from　the
hotel？〃

〃No；　Madame。　The　Monsieur　of　the　hotel　preferred　to　visit　the　cafe　of
the　story…teller；　which　is　far　more　interesting。　If　Madame　will　permit
me　to　take　her〃

But　this　last　assault　was　too　much　for　the　poet's　philosophy。　He
suddenly　threw　off　all　pretence　of　graceful　calm；　and　poured　out　upon
Hadj　a　torrent　of　vehement　Arabic；　accompanying　it　with　passionate
gestures　which　filled　Suzanne　with　horror　and　Domini　with　secret
delight。　She　liked　this　abrupt　unveiling　of　the　raw。　There　had　always
lurked　in　her　an　audacity；　a　quick　spirit　of　adventure　more　boyish
than　feminine。　She　had　reached　the　age　of　thirty…two　without　ever
gratifying　it；　or　even　fully　realising　how　much　she　longed　to　gratify
it。　But　now　she　began　to　understand　it　and　to　feel　that　it　was
imperious。

〃I　have　a　barbarian　in　me；〃　she　thought。

〃Batouch！〃　she　said　sharply。

The　poet　turned　a　distorted　face　to　her。

〃Madame！〃

〃That　will　do。　Take　us　to　the　dancing…house。〃

Batouch　shot　a　last　ferocious　glance　at　Hadj　and　they　went　on　into　the
crowd　of　strolling　men。

The　little　street；　bright　with　the　lamps　of　the　small　houses；　from
which　projected　wooden　balconies　painted　in　gay　colours；　and　with　the
glowing　radiance　of　the　moon；　was　mysterious　despite　its　gaiety；　its
obvious　dedication　to　the　cult　of　pleasure。　Alive　with　the　shrieking
sounds　of　music；　the　movement　and　the　murmur　of　desert　humanity　made
it　almost　solemn。　This　crowd　of　boys　and　men；　robed　in　white　from　head
to　heel；　preserved　a　serious　grace　in　its　vivacity；　suggested　besides
a　dignified　barbarity　a　mingling　of　angel；　monk　and　nocturnal　spirit。
In　the　distance　of　the　moonbeams；　gliding　slowly　over　the　dusty　road
with　slippered　feet；　there　was　something　soft　and　radiant　in　their
moving　whiteness。　Nearer；　their　pointed　hoods　made　them　monastical　as
a　procession　stealing　from　a　range　of　cells　to　chant　a　midnight　mass。
In　the　shadowy　dusk　of　the　tiny　side　alleys　they　were　like　wandering
ghosts　intent　on　unholy　errands　or　returning　to　the　graveyard。

On　some　of　the　balconies　painted　girls　were　leaning　and　smoking
cigarettes。　Before　each　of　the　lighted　doorways　from　which　the　shrill
noise　of　music　came；　small；　intent　crowds　were　gathered；　watching　the
performance　that　was　going　on　inside。　The　robes　of　the　Arabs　brushed
against　the　skirts　of　Domini　and　Suzanne；　and　eyes　stared　at　them　from
every　side　with　a　scrutiny　that　was　less　impudent　than　seriously　bold。

〃Madame！〃

Hadj's　thin　hand　was　pulling　Domini's　sleeve。

〃Well；　what　is　it？〃

〃This　is　the　best　dancing…house。　The　children　dance　here。〃

Domini's　height　enabled　her　to　peer　over　the　shoulders　of　those
gathered　before　the　door；　and　in　the　lighted　distance　of　a　white…
walled　room；　painted　with　figures　of　soldiers　and　Arab　chiefs；　she　saw
a　small　wriggling　figure　between　two　rows　of　squatting　men；　two　baby
hands　waving　coloured　handkerchiefs；　two　little　feet　tapping
vigorously　upon　an　earthen　floor；　for　background　a　divan　crowded　with
women　and　musicians；　with　inflated　cheeks　and　squinting　eyes。　She
stood　for　a　moment　to　look；　then　she　turned　away。　There　was　an
expression　of　disgust　in　her　eyes。

〃No；　I　don't　want　to　see　children；〃　she　said。　〃That's　too〃

She　glanced　at　her　escort　and　did　not　finish。

〃I　know；〃　said　Batouch。　〃Madame　wishes　for　the　real　ouleds。〃

He　led　them　across　the　street。　Hadj　followed　reluctantly。　Before　going
into　this　second　dancing…house　Domini　stopped　again　to　see　from
outside　what　it　was　like；　but　only　for　an　instant。　Then　a　brightness
came　into　her　eyes；　an　eager　look。

〃Yes；　take　me　in　here；〃　she　said。

Batouch　laughed　softly；　and　Hadj　uttered　a　word　below　his　breath。

〃Madame　will　see　Irena　here；〃　said　Batouch；　pushing　the　watching　Arabs
unceremoniously　away。

Domini　did　not　answer。　Her　eyes　were　fixed　on　a　man　who　was　sitting　in
a　corner　far　up　the　room；　bending　forward　and　staring　intently　at　a
woman　who　was　in　the　act　of　stepping　down　from　a　raised　platform
decorated　with　lamps　and　small　bunches　of　flowers　in　earthen　pots。

〃I　wish　to　sit　quite　near　the　door；〃　she　whispered　to　Batouch　as　they
went　in。

〃But　it　is　much　better〃

〃Do　what　I　tell　you；〃　she　said。　〃The　left　side　of　the　room。〃

Hadj　looked　a　little　happier。　Suzanne　was　clinging　to　his　arm。　He
smiled　at　her　with　something　of　mischief；　but　he　took　care；　when　a
place　was　cleared　on　a　bench　for　their　party；　to　sit　down　at　the　end
next　the　door；　and　he　cast　an　anxious　glance　towards　the　platform
where　the　dancing…girls　attached　to　the　cafe　sat　in　a　row；　hunched　up
against　the　bare　wall；　waiting　their　turn　to　perform。　Then　suddenly　he
shook　his　head；　tucked　in　his　chin　and　laughed。　His　whole　face　was
transformed　from　craven　fear　to　vivacious　rascality。　While　he　laughed
he　looked　at　Batouch；　who　was　ordering　four　cups　of　coffee　from　the
negro　attendant。　The　poet　took　no　notice。　For　the　moment　he　was　intent
upon　his　professional　duties。　But　when　the　coffee　was　brought；　and　set
upon　a　round　wooden　stool　between　two　bunches　of　roses；　he　had　time　to
note　Hadj's　sudden　gaiety　and　to　realise　its　meaning。　Instantly　he
spoke　to　the　negro　in　a　low　voice。　Hadj　stopped　laughing。　The　negro
sped　away　and　returned　with　the　proprietor　of　the　cafe；　a　stout　Kabyle
with　a　fair　skin　and　blue　eyes。

Batouch　lowered　his　voice　to　a　guttural　whisper　and　spoke　in　Arabic；
while　Hadj；　shifting　uneasily　on　the　end　seat；　glanced　at　him　sideways
out　of　his　almond…shaped　eyes。　Domini　heard　the　name　〃Irena；〃　and
guessed　that　Batouch　was　asking　the　Kabyle　to　send　for　her　and　make
her　dance。　She　could　not　help　being　amused　for　a　moment　by　the　comedy
of　intrigue；　complacently　malignant　on　both　sides；　that　was　being
played　by　the　two　cousins；　but　the　moment　passed　and　left　her
engrossed；　absorbed；　and　not　merely　by　the　novelty　of　the
surroundings；　by　the　strangeness　of　the　women；　of　their　costumes；　and
of　their　movements。　She　watched　them；　but　she　watched　more　closely；
more　eagerly；　rather　as　a　spy　than　as　a　spectator；　one　who　was
watching　them　with　an　intentness；　a　still　passion；　a　fierce　curiosity
and　a　sort　of　almost　helpless　wonder　such　as　she　had　never　seen
before；　and　could　never　have　found　within　herself　to　put　at　the
service　of　any　human　marvel。

Close　to　the　top　of　the　room　on　the　right　the　stranger　was　sitting　in
the　midst　of　a　mob　of　Arabs；　whose　flowing　draperies　almost　concealed
his　ugly　European　clothes。　On　the　wall　immediately　behind　him　was　a
brilliantly…coloured　drawing　of　a　fat　Ouled　Nail　leering　at　a　French
soldier；　which　made　an　unconventional　background　to　his　leaning　figure
and　sunburnt　face；　in　which　there　seemed　now　to　be　both　asceticism　and
something　so　different　and　so　powerful　that　it　was　likely；　from　moment
to　moment；　to　drive　out　the　asceticism　and　to　achieve　the　loneliness
of　all　conquering　things。　This　fighting　expression　made　Domini　think
of　a　picture　she　had　once　seen　representing　a　pilgrim　going　through　a
dark　forest　attended　by　his　angel　and　his　devil。　The　angel　of　the
pilgrim　was　a　weak　and　almost　childish　figure；　frail；　bloodless；
scarcely　even　radiant；　while　the　devil　was　lusty　and　bold；　with　a
muscular　body　and　a　sensual；　aquiline　face；　which　smiled　craftily；
looking　at　the　pilgrim。　There　was　surely　a　devil　in　the　watching
traveller　which　was　pushing　the　angel　out　of　him。　Domini　had　never
before　seemed　to　see　clearly　the　legendary　battle　of　the　human　heart。
But　it　had　never　before　been　manifested　to　her　audaciously　in　the
human　face。

All　around　the　Arabs　sat；　motionless　and　at　ease；　gazing　on　the
curious　dance　of　which　they　never　tirea　dance　which　has　some
ingenuity；　much　sensuality　and　provocation；　but　little　beauty　and
little　mystery；　unlessas　happens　now　and　thenan　idol…like　woman　of
the　South；　with　all　the　enigma　of　the　distant　desert　in　her　kohl…
tinted　eyes；　dances　it　with　the　sultry　gloom　of　a　half…awakened
sphinx；　and　makes　of　it　a　barbarous　manifestation　of　the　nature　that
lies　hidden　in　the　heart　of　the　sun；　a　silent　cry　uttered　by　a　savage
body　born　in　a　savage　land。

In　the　cafe　of　Tahar；　the　Kabyle；　there　was　at　present　no　such　woman。
His　beauties；　huddled　together　on　their　narrow　bench　before　a　table
decorated　with　glasses　of　water　and　sprigs　of　orange　blossom　in
earthen　vases；　looked　dull　and　cheerless　in　their　gaudy　clothes。　Their
bodies　were　well　formed；　but　somnolent。　Their　painted　hands　hung　down
like　the　hands　of　marionettes。　The　one　who　was　dancing　suggested　Duty
clad　in　Eastern　garb　and　laying　herself　out　carefully　to　be　wicked。
Her　jerks　and　wrigglings；　though　violent；　were　inhuman；　like　those　of
a　complicated　piece　of　mechanism　devised　by　a　morbid　engineer。　After　a
glance　or　two　at　her　Domini　felt　that　she　was　bored　by　her　own
agilities。　Domini's　wonder　increased　when　she　looked　again　at　the
traveller。

For　it　was　this　dance　of　the　/ennui/　of　the　E