"What is it, what is the matter with you, anyway?"
"Nothing," I answered, my throat aching.
"Nothing? Shall I tell you what is the matter with you?"
I looked at him with an expression of supplication.
"Idiot," he found it necessary to repeat once more.
Night fell quickly. Only the southern slope of Wadi Mia
was still yellow. Among the boulders a little jackal was running about, yapping sharply.
"The dib is making a fuss about nothing, bad business," said Saint-Avit.
He continued pitilessly:
"Then you aren't willing to say anything?"