If I might speak with you, tell you all the arguments that constantly
suggest themselves to my mind, you could not refuse. I have thought of
more than one way, but dare not put my ideas on paper, lest some unlucky
chance befall our little messenger. Soon I shall have perfected the
cypher. Then there will not be the same danger. Perhaps to-morrow night
I shall be able to send it. But meanwhile, for the sake of my love, give
me a little hope. If you will try to arrange a meeting, to be settled
definitely when the cypher is ready, twist three of those glorious
threads of gold which you have for hair round the cord when you send the
messenger back."
All the rosy colour had died away from the woman's face by the time she
had finished reading the letter. She folded it again into a tiny square
even smaller than before, and put it into one of the three or four
little engraved silver boxes, made to hold texts from the Koran, which
hung from her long amber necklace. Her eyes were very wide open, but she
seemed to see nothing except some thought printed on her brain like a
picture.
On the mosque roof a hundred men of the desert knelt praying in the
sunset, their faces turned towards Mecca. Down in the fountain-court,
the marabout's lazy tame lion rose from sleep and stretched himself,
yawning as the clear voice of the muezzin chanted from the minaret the
prayer of evening, "Allah Akbar, Allah il Allah, Mohammed r'soul Allah.
Pages:
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401