The name of the prettier twin was Zorah, and she had black curls which fell straight down over her brilliant eyes, under a scarlet head-dress. "Dost thou love Si Maïeddine?" she asked the Roumia, with a kind of innocent boldness.
"As a friend who has been very kind," Victoria answered.
"Not as a lover, oh Roumia?" Zorah, like all girls of Ouargla, was proud of her knowledge of Arabic.
"No. Not as a lover."
"Is there then one of thine own people whom thou lovest as a lover, Rose of the West?"
"I have no lover, little white moon."
"Si Maïeddine will be thy lover, whether thou desirest him or not."
"Thou mistakest, oh Zorah."
"I do not mistake. If thou dost not yet know I am right, thou wilt know before many days. When thou findest out all that is in his heart for thee, remember our talk to-day, in the court of oranges."
"I will tell thee thou wert wrong in this same court of oranges when I pass this way again without Si Maïeddine."