She thought,
without any active interest, as she looked at the nodding bassourahs,
growing larger and larger, that a chief was coming with his women, and
that he would be disappointed to learn that the marabout was away from
home. It was rather odd that the stranger had not been told in the city,
for every one knew that the great man had gone a fortnight ago to the
province of Oran. Several days must pass before he could return, even
if, for any reason, he came sooner than he was expected. But it did not
matter much to her, if there were to be visitors who would have the pain
of waiting. There was plenty of accommodation for guests, and there were
many servants whose special duty it was to care for strangers. She would
not see the women in the bassourahs, nor hear of them unless some gossip
reached her through the talk of the negresses.
Still, as there was nothing else which she wished to do, she continued
to watch the caravan.
By and by it passed out of sight, behind the rising ground on which the
village huddled, with its crowding brown house-walls that narrowed
towards the roofs. The woman almost forgot it, until it appeared again,
to the left of the village, where palm logs had been laid in the river
bed, making a kind of rough bridge, only covered when the river was in
flood. It was certain now that the travellers were coming to the Zaouia.
The flame of the sunset had died, though clouds purple as pansies
flowered in the west.
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