Each of the onlookers extending his palms side by side before his face, they repeat the prayer in a sing-song voice, and as it concludes with a loud "Ameen," the charmer gives an agonized cry, as though deeply wrought upon. "Ah Rijál el[page 153] Blád" ("Oh Saints of the Town!"), he shouts, as he recommences his tambourining, this time even with increased vigour, beating the ground with his feet, and working his body up and down in a most extraordinary manner. The two others are also playing, and the noise is deafening. The chief figure appears to be raving mad; his starting eyes, his lithe and supple figure, and his streaming hair, give him the air of one possessed. His face is a study, a combination of fierceness and madness, yet of good-nature.
At last he sinks down exhausted, but after a moment rises and advances to the centre of the circle, picking up a tambourine.
"Now, Sîdi Aïsa"—turning to one of the musicians, whom he motions to cease their din—"what do you think happens to the man who puts a coin in there? Why, the holy saint, our lord Mohammed ben Aïsa, puts a ring round him like that," drawing a ring round a stone on the ground. "Is it not so?"
"It is, Ameen," from Sidi Aïsa.
"And what happens to him in the day time?"
"He is in the hands of God, and his people too."
"And in the night time?"
"He is in the hands of God, and his people too."
"And when at home?"
"He is in the hands of God, and his people too."