They argued for a moment, and then the boy,
handing his gun to the elder man, walked with dignity to a closed gate,
large enough to let in the goats and donkeys pertaining to the two
houses. This gate he opened half-way, standing in the aperture and
looking up sullenly as the Roumis came down the narrow, slippery track
which led to it.
"Cebah el-kheir, ia Sidi--Good day, sir," said Nevill, agreeably, in his
best Arabic. "Ta' rafi el-a' riya?--Do you speak Arabic?"
The young man bowed, not yet conciliated. "Ach men sebba jit lhena, ia
Sidi?--Why have you come here, sir?" he asked suspiciously, in very
guttural Arabic.
Relieved to find that they would have no great difficulty in
understanding each other, Nevill plunged into explanations, pointing to
Josette's card. They had come recommended by the malema at Tlemcen. They
brought good wishes and a present to the bride of the village, the
virtuous and beautiful Mouni, from whom they would gladly receive
information concerning a European lady. Was this the house of her
father? Would they be permitted to speak with her, and give this little
watch from Algiers?
Nevill made his climax by opening the velvet case, and the brown eyes of
the Kabyle boy flashed with uncontrollable admiration, though his face
remained immobile. He answered that this was indeed the house of
Mouni's father, and he himself was the brother of Mouni. This was the
last day of her wedding-feast, and in an hour she would go to the home
of her husband.
Pages:
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266