We were crossing the cemetery now by one of the intricate paths which intersect it. There seemed not a soul within sight or sound. Every Moor would be inside his house or hut. I hoped Tahara would pull herself together and last as far as Miss Z——'s.
She said she was bueno, meaning good, better, and spoke again of the bottle which she was carrying carefully hidden in her waistband. Then, as far as I could understand, she wished me to know that the poison had something to do with the signoritas—ourselves—and our food. This was a most unpleasant reflection: I devoutly hoped that R. would not begin dinner before I got back, and comforted myself with the assurance that it was unlikely, there being no one to get it ready. We had no outside man at that time sleeping in the house.
"S`lam no good; S`lam no good," Tahara kept repeating. And, to tell the truth, our long-legged ruffian rose before my eyes as no mean embodiment of a stage villain. The Riffis are notoriously treacherous and put no value whatever on life; at the same time I knew that they made good and faithful servants up to a certain point, and I shrank from distrusting a man who had so far served us well. And yet, how much does one know of them? Nothing. We had had suspicions that all was not going smoothly with the two servants: though they had been married so lately there was friction between them; Tahara had been heard crying at night, and had looked red-eyed. It was likely, therefore, that there had been a quarrel.
S`lam's old mother may have made mischief. She was madly jealous of Tahara, whom S`lam had married without letting her know. He had gone over to Tangier; had arranged the marriage with Tahara's brother, who was living at Tangier with her; had brought her off, hardly a happy or willing bride, for he told us that she cried the whole of the journey; and had sprung her upon his old mother at Tetuan. In his bachelor days S`lam's earnings had gone to the old woman. Now they were spent on his wife and himself. Therefore Maman saw nothing that was good in Tahara, and would have given much, no doubt, to see the last of her.
Meanwhile, the city gate drew near. Tahara was moving along firmly with her hand in mine. The gate was still open!—that was a relief. We hurried through, and, seeing a group of soldiers waiting outside, I judged that it was just about to be shut. We were none too soon: the bars behind us clanged into their places. I much wished that R. was not henceforth cut off from all communication with me, and left outside the city entirely by herself: there were the two guns and revolver; after all, the house was no more likely to be molested on this night than on any other.
The Feddan, Tetuan.
The narrow streets were nearly pitch dark; shadowy figures passed us at first; and Tahara drew her haik all over her face, leaving only a slit for the eyes, and put on her slippers once more. Occasionally a little shop had its hard-working inmate, sewing at slippers by the light of an oil lamp; but for the most part all was black darkness. How long the intricate streets seemed! We stumbled on the rough cobbles and slid into the muddy gutter. Tahara's slippers again impeded her, and off they came. I wished devoutly I knew where Miss Z—— was, and could make straight for her, probably hurrying at that moment for Jinan Dolero, somewhere in the maze of streets and houses. We crossed the great open feddan, all deserted, and I strained my eyes for a glimpse of her tall figure beside that of S`lam's—in vain.
Late as it was, children were about; they collected gradually behind us and followed us, nor was it easy at that time of night to drive them off. Tahara, though still struggling on, was leaning heavily on my arm. The sooner we get to the Mission House the better.
Two more narrow lanes, a last winding alley, and the welcome door of the tabiba's—never more welcome.