M'Barka had given her a necklace of black beads which the negresses had
made of benzoin and rose leaves and spices, held in shape with pungent
rezin. Worn on the warm flesh, the beads gave out a heady perfume, which
was like the breath of the desert. It made the girl giddy, and it grew
stronger and sweeter as she danced, seeming to mingle with the crying
of the raita and the sobbing of the ghesbah, so that she confused
fragrance with music, music with fragrance.
Maieddine stared at her, like a man who dreams with his eyes open. If he
had been alone, he could have watched her dance on for hours, and wished
that she would never stop; but there were other men in the tent, and he
had a maddening desire to snatch the girl in his arms, smothering her in
his burnous, and rushing away with her into the desert.
Her dancing astonished him. He did not know what to make of it, for she
had told him nothing about herself, except what concerned her errand in
Africa. Though he had been in Paris when she was there, he had been
deeply absorbed in business vital to his career, and had not heard of
Victoria Ray the dancer, or seen her name on the hoardings.
Like his father, he knew that European women who danced were not as the
African dancers, the Ouled Nails and the girls of Djebel Amour. But an
Arab may have learned to know many things with his mind which he cannot
feel with his heart; and with his heart Maieddine felt a wish to blind
Abderrhaman, because his eyes had seen the intoxicating beauty of
Victoria as she danced.
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