THE BACH-AGHA OF THE LARBAAS, AN IMPORTANT ARAB CHIEF.
From a Photograph.
A fortnight after I arrived at Laghouat the Bach-Agha of the Larbaas (a tribe of warriors who have always been faithful to France) gave a “diffa” in our honour. Warned by my experience of painful memory at Teniet-el-Haad, I did not try to partake of all the twenty-five dishes which were served in weary succession. After the repast was over we paid a visit to the chief’s two wives. The favourite, a young woman of twenty-four, was most beautifully dressed in eau-de Nil brocade. The costume was that of the Algiers women, full trousers closing in tightly round the small, silk-socked, golden-slippered feet. Then came a three-quarter skirt of the same material and a much-embroidered tight-fitting bodice. The front of this latter garment was so covered with jewels that the stuff was hardly visible. The head-dress was composed of silk handkerchiefs and chains of gold and precious stones. She had two children, a boy of eight and a girl ten years old. She told me she was very happy, that she had been married to the Bach-Agha since she was twelve years old, and that he had only beaten her once, when she had broken one of her pieces of jewellery in a temper. She showed us the very piece, with much laughter—a big, finely-worked gold filigree disc.
“You did not laugh so loudly when you felt the matraque on your shoulders,” said a grim voice behind her.
Without another word she pulled one of her handkerchiefs over her face and stood motionless. It was now our turn to laugh, which we did heartily, for we had seen the Bach-Agha come in, and had understood his sign for us not to betray him.
After teasing her a little the good old man—he was sixty—told her to unveil, but not to boast too much of her one beating, or he should have to make it two.
We much admired the beautiful carpets and embroidered cushions on the marble floor, and the handsome silver and brass jugs, cups, and plates which adorned the Arab brackets, but we thought the four-poster bed, with white muslin curtains, which stood in the far corner, rather out of place.
The young wife’s apartments consisted of two big rooms, about fourteen yards long by four wide, both leading out into a big square court with pink marble pillars, where palms and various other exotic plants flourished. In the centre was a fountain where goldfish glinted.
Then we went to see the other wife, old, like her husband. Her room was big, her bed comfortable, her clothing good, but everything was of the simplest. Her only jewel was a tiny gold brooch fastening a drapery drawn round the head under the chin. She seemed too weary to talk.
“Life is over for me,” she said. “My children are dead; my husband has not spoken to me for years. I, too, shall soon be gone.” And she clacked her tongue in her cheek in a dismally resigned fashion. I felt heavy-hearted as I went out.