It was market-day there, and the long street was so full of
Kabyles dressed apparently in low-necked woollen bags, of soldiers in
uniform, of bold-eyed, scantily-clad children, and of dyed sheep and
goats, that the car had to pass at a walk. Nevill bought a good deal of
Kabyle jewellery, necklaces and long earrings, or boxes enamelled in
crude greens and reds, blues and yellows. Not that he had not already
more than he knew what to do with; but he could not resist the handsome
unveiled girls, the wretched old women, or pretty, half-naked children
who offered the work of the neighbouring hill villages, or family
heirlooms. Sometimes he saw eyes which made him think of Josette's; but
then, all beautiful things that he saw reminded him of her. She was an
obsession. But, for a wonder, he had taken Stephen's advice in Tlemcen
and had not proposed again. He was still marvelling at his own strength
of mind, and asking himself if, after all, he had been wise.
After Tizi Ouzou the mountains were no longer sterile-seeming. The road
coiled up and up snakily, between rows of leering cactus; and far below
the densely wooded heights lay lovely plains through which a great river
wandered. There was a homely smell of mint, and the country did not look
to Stephen like the Africa he had imagined. All the hill-slopes were
green with the bright green of fig trees and almonds, even at heights so
great that the car wallowed among clouds.
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