The gold of the dunes paled to silver, and the
desert grew sad, as if it mourned for a day that would never live again.
Far away, near Oued Tolga, where the white domes of the city and the
green domes of the oasis palms all blended together in shadow, fires
sprang up in the camps of nomads, like signals of danger.
The woman on the roof shivered. The chill of the coming night cooled her
excitement. She was afraid of the future, and the sadness which had
fallen upon the desert was cold in her heart. The caravan was not far
from the gate of the Zaouia, but she was tired of watching it. She
turned and went down the narrow stairs that led to her rooms, and to the
little garden where the fragrance of orange blossoms was too sweet.
XXXV
The caravan stopped in front of the Zaouia gate. There were great iron
doors in a high wall of toub, which was not much darker in colour than
the deep gold of the desert sand; and because it was after sunset the
doors were closed.
One of the Negroes knocked, and called out something inarticulate and
guttural in a loud voice.
Almost at once the gate opened, and a shadowy figure hovered inside. A
name was announced, which was instantly shouted to a person unseen, and
a great chattering began in the dusk. Men ran out, and one or two kissed
the hand of the rider on the white horse. They explained volubly that
the lord was away, but the newcomer checked them as soon as he could,
saying that he had heard the news in the city.
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