She completed the stanza:
“’Tis thou who hast given me the fever,
Thou who hast hurled me upon the mountain!”
Then she turned her face toward the furthest tent, through whose lifted borders something red shone, and said, abruptly:
“Dost thou know Khamissa?”
“What Khamissa?”
“The dancer.”
“No!”
“Then give us something right away, because, as soon as thou hast seen her, thy heart will burn itself out, and then wilt thou have nothing to do with us!”
I had in my pocket a little mirror which I gave her. The younger girl took my silk handkerchief and begged also for a red girdle I wore. So they plundered me outright—the little savages—and I was obliged to smile.
Fortunately for me, some shots were heard; sharp you-yous echoed along the line of the tents. The hadj was approaching from the depth of a ravine. There were at least thirty cavaliers attending him, all mounted on spirited horses which galloped over the brow of the hill, their tails flying. More than one of these horsemen wore only a shirt, a shabby sort of a burnous over his shoulders, a rag twisted around his head, and was mounted on a wooden saddle with no covering, and only two ends of rope for a bridle! I cannot describe the effect as they came riding over the hill, their bronzed legs pressing the flanks of their steeds. What a superb poverty it was! What wonderful bandits these men were!