There were many children and half-grown lads present. At the commencement they were rather noisy, but were scolded by Belkassim, or the Khalifa, and were kicked aside. Later, several fell asleep enveloped in their burnouses and leaning against the elder men.
When the negro singer had finished his song it was again the women’s turn, and they paid him off for having ventured to imagine that they might have sung in praise of him, a wretched creature, who did not even possess a decent burnous.
The drum and clarionet again did their duty; after which the negro took up his defence. They were not to suppose that he was poverty-stricken; and he was the boldest rider amongst the Matmata (the Khalifa told me the man had never mounted a horse). When he appeared in flowing burnous, the hood thrown back as he sang the war song, he rivalled the Khalifa himself when marching to battle.
He and the women continued squabbling in this fashion for some time. No doubt the women carried the day, for the negro was finally shoved back upon the spectators, and hustled by them from one group to another, until at last he vanished in the darkness.
Two men then performed a stick dance to the tripping time of drum and clarionet, and towards the end the women joined in a song with a chorus. They prayed Allah for rain and a good harvest. Then sang of Mena, the married woman who took to herself a lover and paid for her indiscretion with her life; of the hunter who bewitched a lion with his flute, thus saving the life of a little girl; of love; of charming cavaliers; of the Khalifa; and, finally, of myself; but, strangely enough, not of the bridegroom, so far as I could gather, and very slightly of the bride.
The wedding feast was to last eight days. On the last the bride would be brought home. During these eight days Mohammed, the bridegroom, was not to show himself in either his own or his father’s house. He must remain concealed amongst his friends, and not attend openly at the rejoicings, though he was probably present incognito.
At last the Khalifa rose and bade me good-night. The men dispersed and went their ways homewards, the women following.
I expressed a wish to leave next morning, and, in accordance with my plans, to take a two days’ journey into the mountains to visit a number of Berber villages, returning afterwards to be again the Khalifa’s guest before finding my way back to Gabés.
The same evening the Khalifa sent an express courier to the sheikhs of the villages with instructions that I should be well received.
This arranged, I retired to rest. As I passed up the dark underground passage, I patted my horse and wished my friends good-night.