But soon she must be gone to her husband's house,
and already the dark young bridegroom, son of the Caid, was growing
impatient. There was no time to be lost, if they were to learn anything
of Ben Halim's wife.
As a preface to what they wished to ask, Nevill made a presentation
speech, placing the velvet watch-case in Mouni's hand, and she opened it
with a kind of moan expressing intense rapture. Never had she seen
anything so beautiful, and she would cheerfully have recalled every
phase of her career from earliest babyhood, if by doing so she could
have pleased the givers.
"But yes," she answered to Nevill's first questions, "the beautiful lady
whom I served was the wife of Sidi Cassim ben Halim. At first it was in
Algiers that I lived with her, but soon we left, and went to the
country, far, oh, very far away, going towards the south. The house was
like a large farmhouse, and to me as a child--for I was but a child--it
seemed fine and grand. Yet my lady was not pleased. She found it rough,
and different from any place to which she was used. Poor, beautiful
lady! She was not happy there. She cried a great deal, and each day I
thought she grew paler than the day before."
Mouni spoke in French, hesitating now and then for a word, or putting in
two or three in Arabic, before she stopped to think, as she grew
interested in her subject. Stephen understood almost all she said, and
was too impatient to leave the catechizing to Nevill.
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