In large censers, on copper plates covered in with arabesques, Eastern perfumes were burning, the smoke from which ascended in spiral columns, and mingling with that from the chibouks, created a tolerably dense cloud. In spite of the vapour surrounding him, M. Delange, as he took his seat, thought he could recognize, amongst the spectators, a well-known face or two. He thought for some time, called on his memory to aid him, and soon hit the right nail on the head. The man who had particularly attracted his attention was none other than the chief of the caravan which he and his friends had attacked in the desert of Bahiouda. Three of his men were with him.
These fellows, despoiled of their slaves, and without any object in continuing their journey towards northern Nubia, had thought fit to wend their way to Khartoum, only a few miles distant from the spot where they were released. Unfortunately, if the Doctor had picked them out from amongst their co-religionists and friends, they had, in their turn, with far greater facility recognized the European who had, alone and unexpectedly, made his appearance amongst them. They might, no doubt, have already met in the streets of Khartoum the man who had helped to ruin them and take from them the goodly caravan on which they had built such extravagant expectations, but it would have been imprudent in that case to attack him. Now he was at their mercy; fate, to which all Orientals attribute such unlimited power, had delivered him into their hands. They addressed a silent thanksgiving to the Prophet, and, under their breath, whilst smoking their chibouks, they plotted a terrible revenge.
The Almehs went on with their dancing, accompanying themselves with the tar, a species of tambourine, and copper castanets, called in Arabic saganet or sadjar. Their plaintive, monotonous chant lulled the senses, and produced a feeling of languor, possessing an indescribable charm. Their dance is varied; the feet play their part, and do not appear rivetted to the floor, as was the case with the bayaderes and the black slaves. It is more active, and has more movement in it, but without in the least degree resembling our European ballets. Certain movements, certain poses, rather recall the Spanish fandango, or would do so if the Almeh had a vis-à-vis of the masculine gender, but they invariably dance with others of their own sex.
When M. Delange entered this sanctuary, they were finishing the sword dance, the sword at times being brandished above their heads and flashing in the light, and sometimes being brought down as if to despatch a fallen foe. After a short interval, they commenced the bee-dance, very celebrated amongst the Turks. To understand this pantomime, somewhat difficult to describe, a too inquisitive bee must be supposed to have lighted on the Almeh, and to defy all her efforts to drive it away. The insect settles at first amongst the gold-entwined locks of the dancer, and on the scarlet velvet tarbouck, but, driven from this refuge, it descends, little by little to the neck, arms, and shoulders. The dancer, to get rid of her importunate visitor, divests herself of her veil, her necklace, her bracelets and her rings.
The bee, thus pursued, becomes bolder and more enraged, and hides beneath the richly embroidered bodice. Determined to get rid of her enemy, the Almeh sacrifices this garment also, and it is thrown down on the floor to keep company with the veil and the other ornaments.
And so the pursuit was going on, but M. Delange thought it had gone far enough and retired, considering, and rightly, too, that this species of manifestation in public is entirely devoid of attraction.
He left, therefore, before the end, and without noticing that the gentlemen of the caravan rose at the same time and glided behind him along the wall. When he gained the door of the house, he called out for his guide, looked about for some time in vain, and at last set out alone on his return to his domicile. But, scarcely had he gone a dozen yards along the street, when five or six individuals, starting at once from different hiding-places, sprang out from beneath the shadow of the wall, threw themselves upon him before he had time to defend himself, stopped his mouth with a gag, bound him hand and foot, and carried him off in the direction of the Nile.
CHAPTER XLVI.
Before setting out on his expedition to the slave-merchant and the Almehs, the Doctor asked M. de Morin to go with him, but the invitation was declined with thanks. The young painter, as we have before remarked, had not for some time past been in the humour to partake of any pleasure that Khartoum could offer him. None of the curious sights of the place had any charms for him, and he did not take the slightest interest in unravelling those mysteries which M. Delange, for the purpose of cheering him up and rousing him from his apathy, from time to time described. On the evening when his friend made this latest suggestion to him, he was less disposed than ever to listen. For several days past he had had recourse to the favourite device of lovers—avoiding the beloved one, abstaining from paying her any visits, giving no sign of existence, waiting to be summoned. But Madame de Guéran did not appear to notice his disappearance, and pursued the even tenor of her way, just as if he had no existence so far as she was concerned. How could she have become so completely indifferent to what became of him? She was not bound to love him, he was quite aware of that, and she had a perfect right to prefer somebody else. But, at the same time, had she any right to carry to such an extreme her indifference for the man who had sacrificed everything to accompany her, and to share her fatigues and her dangers? Surely, even as a mere travelling companion he was worth the display of a little interest.
Nay, more, in defiance of all her promises she was already displaying her preference for M. Périères! She had not even waited until the journey should be more advanced, but at the very first stage of any importance, in the first town where she had stayed for any time, she threw aside all reserve, made no secret of her choice, and, whilst opening her heart to one admirer, banished the other for ever and a day! Ought she not, at all events, to have frankly sent for him, told him how the case stood, and offered him his liberty?