And, turning quickly, the messenger from my mysterious enchantress strode onward towards the tomb of the patron saint of divorce.
Chapter Twelve.
An Oath to Messoudia.
With eager anticipation of once again meeting Zoraida, I left the Place Bab-el-Oued, and, ascending the steep incline, entered the Jardin Marengo.
The sun had disappeared into the broad Mediterranean, flooding the sea with its lurid blaze of gold; the light had faded, the muddenin had, from the minarets of the mosques, called the Faithful to their evening devotions, and the dusky, mystic gloom had now deepened into night. From the garden, situated a hundred feet or more above the sea, on the edge of the city but within the fortifications, a beautiful picture was presented. Above, the square castellated minaret of the mosque of Sidi Abd-er-Rahman stood out distinctly against the calm night sky; below, in the hollow, the houses of the lower town clustered with a dream-like picturesqueness in every line and angle. Beyond, lay the harbour with its breakwater and tall white lighthouse; in the gently undulating water were long perpendicular twinklings of light, and against the darkness, which was not wholly dark, the bold lines and tapering masts of half a dozen vessels were sharply silhouetted. The distant strains of one of the tenderest airs from “Carmen,” played by the fine Zouave band, floated upward out of the shadow; and as I stood under the giant cedar which the old Arab woman had indicated, it was hard to say whether one’s looking or one’s listening brought a finer sense of restfulness and remoteness. It was probably the alliance of the two that gave to those moments their special fascination.
The ancient mosque, under the walls of which I waited, was silent. Among the dark foliage lights glimmered, and overhead in the spacious quiet were a few stars. At last the air from “Carmen” died in its final poignant chords, the succeeding silence remained far a long time unbroken, and the moon shone forth from behind the light scud. Its white brilliance was shedding a silvery light over the trees and gravelled walks, when suddenly I saw, moving slowly in the shadow of the ilex trees, a shrouded figure approaching noiselessly, like some ghostly visitant from the graveyard of the mosque.
A few moments later the old Arab woman with whom I had made the appointment, emerged into the moonlight and halted before me.