It's a madness."
"Then perhaps no one ever knew, out here, that the man had brought home
a foreign wife?"
"Almost surely not. No European, that is. Arabs might know--through
their women. There's nothing that passes which they can't find out. How
they do it, who can tell? Their ways are as mysterious as everything
else here, except the lives of us _hiverneurs_, who don't even try very
hard to hide our own scandals when we have any. But no Arab could be
persuaded or forced to betray another Arab to a European, unless for
motives of revenge. For love or hate, they stand together. In virtues
and vices they're absolutely different from Europeans. And if Ben Halim
doesn't want anybody, not excepting his wife's sister, to get news of
his wife, why, it may be difficult to get it, that's all I say. Going to
Miss Ray's hotel, you could see something of that Arab street close by,
on the fringe of the Kasbah--which is what they call, not the old fort
alone, but the whole Arab town."
"Yes. I saw the queer white houses, huddled together, that looked like
blank walls only broken by a door, with here and there a barred window."
"Well, what I mean is that it's almost impossible for any European to
learn what goes on behind those blank walls and those little square
holes, in respectable houses. But we'll hope for the best. And here we
are at my place. I'm rather proud of it."
They had come to the arched gateway of a white-walled garden.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115