Never would I forget Meryem.
Yes, Meryem, with thy black lashes
Thou wilt always be beautiful,
And as delightful as a gift.
At the end of a few hours the heat becomes unpleasant, and a halt is called. The tents are pitched, breakfast is prepared, and the horses are unbridled and allowed to graze—and all rest themselves. As the sun goes down, the heat diminishes—it is now between two and three in the afternoon. To your saddles and forward, ye daring cavaliers! Display in a brilliant fantasia the worth of your horses and of yourselves. The women behold you; show them what you can do with a horse and a gun. Ah! more than one of you shall be rewarded for his prowess. Do you see that negro? He is bearing to one of you the recompense of his skill in managing his arms and his steed. He is the messenger to whose care one of the lovely spectators has confided the secret of her love, in charging him to deliver to the hero of the fantasia her khrolkhral, or anklets, or her mekhranga, or necklace of cloves.
It is not enough, however, to be a brave and skilful horseman—it is incumbent on thee, also, to be discreet. Thou hast a friend; to-morrow thou wilt give him thy horse and thy garments. Urge him strongly, for thy sister[[83]] wishes it, to show himself in the midst of the goum upon thy steed and in thy dress, so as to deceive the other horsemen. In the mean time thou wilt pass unperceived as a humble foot-soldier, and wilt walk beside the camel that bears thy mistress. Attention! watch the favourable moment, and slip into her palanquin. She is just as impatient as thyself, and stretches her hand to thee. Profit by this assistance, and let thy movements outstrip suspicion.
In love, as in war, fortune favours the bold, but they have likewise the largest share of perils. If such meetings are frequent and nearly always successful, there is nevertheless risk to life; for, if the lovers are ever surprised, both of them perish without mercy. But who is there to betray them? All who surround them are in their favour. The lover tells his good fortune to his friends, all of whom are anxious to forward his happiness, and ten or a dozen douros have been sent to his mistress. Nor is this all. Her confidential servant has received two or three douros, and money has been freely distributed among her slaves and attendants. All, therefore, keep a good watch, and give timely notice to the lover when he must glide out of the litter, in the midst of the disorder and confusion caused by the pitching of the camp at the approach of night.
Previous to sunset, the chiefs reconnoitre a spot suitable for an encampment. It must be supplied with water, grass, and shrubs for fire-wood. On arriving at the place selected, each tent is pitched, the horses are unbridled and hobbled, as are also the camels, the negroes go in search of wood and grass, the women prepare the food, and they all sup. A thousand little scenes impart to a camp of this kind an aspect full of charm and novelty. Then total darkness envelopes the scene, unless there happens to be moonlight. The fires are extinguished—there is nothing alight to diminish the darkness. In the Sahara, oil and wax are alike unknown. Immediately after supper, each tent selects a man to watch the animals and the baggage. It is his business to prevent thefts, which his most active vigilance is, nevertheless, powerless to avert.
Not robbers alone wait for the night. Protected by the same obscurity, the lover, with the privity of his mistress, cautiously approaches the tent in which she reposes, raises the canvass, and guided by a devoted slave, takes the place of the husband who, fatigued by the day's journey, is sleeping in the men's chamber,—for in the tents of the desert there are always two distinct compartments, one for men, the other for women. Besides, it is deemed disgraceful for a man to pass the whole night by the side of his wife. There is nothing therefore, to interfere with these clandestine meetings. The presence of the two or three other wives permitted by the Mussulman law would certainly not be considered an obstacle. According, to an Arab proverb, only a Jewess surpasses Shitan in trickery, but next to Shitan comes the Mussulmanee. It is a thing unheard of in the desert that women should denounce one another. But if, perchance, the adventure should seem too hazardous, the woman issues from the tent when every one is asleep, and proceeds to a spot she has indicated to her lover by means of one of the usual intermediary agents, the negroes and shepherds.
At the very hour that happy lovers meet, are accomplished schemes of vengeance. A rejected lover penetrates into the tent of the woman who has treated him with scorn, goes up to her, and shoots her with a pistol. At the sound of the explosion, the other women jump up, run against one another, and utter shrieks. The murderer, however, has had time to disappear, and the crime, perpetrated unseen, nearly always remains unpunished. Love adventures are common in the Sahara. Willingly or unwillingly, an Arab woman is sure to have lovers. The jealous precautions of the husbands excite and foment to an unnatural degree the libertine propensities of the women, by the very restraints that are placed upon them. To whatever class they belong, they pass their time in inventing stratagems to deceive their husbands while they are young, and, when they are old, to facilitate the amours of others.