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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23412-0.txt b/23412-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d302d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/23412-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,817 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Figure In The Mirage, by Robert Hichens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Figure In The Mirage + 1905 + +Author: Robert Hichens + +Release Date: November 8, 2007 [EBook #23412] +Last Updated: September 25, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE + +By Robert Hichens + +Frederick A. Stokes Company Publishers + +Copyright, 1905 + + +On a windy night of Spring I sat by a great fire that had been built by +Moors on a plain of Morocco under the shadow of a white city, and talked +with a fellow-countryman, stranger to me till that day. We had met in +the morning in a filthy alley of the town, and had forgathered. He was a +wanderer for pleasure like myself, and, learning that he was staying in +a dreary hostelry haunted by fever, I invited him to dine in my camp, +and to pass the night in one of the small peaked tents that served +me and my Moorish attendants as home. He consented gladly. Dinner was +over--no bad one, for Moors can cook, can even make delicious caramel +pudding in desert places--and Mohammed, my stalwart _valet de chambre_, +had given us most excellent coffee. Now we smoked by the great fire, +looked up at the marvellously bright stars, and told, as is the way +of travellers, tales of our wanderings. My companion, whom +I took at first to be a rather ironic, sceptical, and by nature +“unimaginative globe-trotter--he was a hard-looking, iron-grey man of +middle-age--related the usual tiger story, the time-honoured elephant +anecdote, and a couple of snake yarns of no special value, and I was +beginning to fear that I should get little entertainment from so prosaic +a sportsman, when I chanced to mention the desert. + +“Ah!” said my guest, taking his pipe from his mouth, “the desert is +the strangest thing in nature, as woman is the strangest thing in human +nature. And when you get them together--desert and woman--by Jove!” + +He paused, then he shot a keen glance at me. + +“Ever been in the Sahara?” he said. + +I replied in the affirmative, but added that I had as yet only seen the +fringe of it. + +“Biskra, I suppose,” he rejoined, “and the nearest oasis, Sidi-Okba, +and so on?” + +I nodded. I saw I was in for another tale, and anticipated some history +of shooting exploits under the salt mountain of El Outaya. + +“Well,” he continued, “I know the Sahara pretty fairly, and about the +oddest thing I ever could believe in I heard of and believed in there.” + +“Something about gazelle?” I queried. + +“Gazelle? No--a woman!” he replied.. + +As he spoke a Moor glided out of the windy darkness, and threw an armful +of dry reeds on the fire. The flames flared up vehemently, and I saw +that the face of my companion had changed. The hardness of it was +smoothed away. Some memory, that held its romance, sat with him. + +“A woman,” he repeated, knocking the ashes out of his pipe almost +sentimentally--“more than that, a French woman of Paris, with the +nameless charm, the _chic_, the---- But I’ll tell you. Some years ago +three Parisians--a man, his wife, and her unmarried sister, a girl of +eighteen, with an angel and a devil in her dark beauty--came to a great +resolve. They decided that they were tired of the Français, sick of the +Bois, bored to death with the boulevards, that they wanted to see for +themselves the famous French colonies which were for ever being talked +about in the Chamber. They determined to travel. No sooner was +the determination come to than they were off. Hôtel des Colonies, +Marseilles; steamboat, _Le Général Chanzy_; five o’clock on a splendid, +sunny afternoon--Algiers, with its terraces, its white villas, its +palms, trees, and its Spahis!” + +“But----” I began. + +He foresaw my objection. + +“There were Spahis, and that’s a point of my story. Some fête was on +in the town while our Parisians were there. All the African troops were +out--Zouaves, chasseurs, tirailleurs. The Governor went in procession +to perform some ceremony, and in front of his carriage rode sixteen +Spahis--probably got in from that desert camp of theirs near El Outaya. +All this was long before the Tsar visited Paris, and our Parisians had +never before seen the dashing Spahis, had only heard of them, of their +magnificent horses, their turbans and flowing Arab robes, their gorgeous +figures, lustrous eyes, and diabolic horsemanship. You know how they +ride? No cavalry to touch them--not even the Cossacks! Well, our +French friends were struck. The unmarried sister, more especially, was +_bouleversée_ by these glorious demons. As they caracoled beneath the +balcony on which she was leaning she clapped her little hands, in their +white kid gloves, and threw down a shower of roses. The falling flowers +frightened the horses. They pranced, bucked, reared. One Spahi--a great +fellow, eyes like a desert eagle, grand aquiline profile--on whom three +roses had dropped, looked up, saw mademoiselle--call her Valérie--gazing +down with her great, bright eyes--they were deuced fine eyes, by +Jove!----” + +“You’ve seen her?” I asked. + +“--and flashed a smile at her with his white teeth. It was his last day +in the service. He was in grand spirits. ‘Mem Dieu! Mais quelles dents!’ +she sang out. Her people laughed at her. The Spahi looked at her again-- +not smiling. She shrank back on the balcony. Then his place was taken by +the Governor--small imperial, _chapeau de forme_, evening dress, landau +and pair. Mademoiselle was _désolée_. Why couldn’t civilised men look +like Spahis? Why were all Parisians commonplace? Why--why? Her sister +and brother-in-law called her the savage worshipper, and took her down +to the café on the terrace to dine. And all through dinner mademoiselle +talked of the _beaux_ Spahis--in the plural, with a secret reservation +in her heart. After Algiers our Parisians went by way of Constantine to +Biskra. Now they saw desert for the first time--the curious iron-grey, +velvety-brown, and rose-pink mountains; the nomadic Arabs camping in +their earth-coloured tents patched with rags; the camels against the +skyline; the everlasting sands, broken here and there by the deep green +shadows of distant oases, where the close-growing palms, seen from far +off, give to the desert almost the effect that clouds give to Cornish +waters. At Biskra mademoiselle--oh! what she must have looked like under +the mimosa-trees before the Hôtel de l’Oasis!------” + +“Then you’ve seen her,” I began. + +“--mademoiselle became enthusiastic again, and, almost before they knew +it, her sister and brother-in-law were committed to a desert expedition, +were fitted out with a dragoman, tents, mules--the whole show, in +fact--and one blazing hot day found themselves out in that sunshine--you +know it--with Biskra a green shadow on that sea, the mountains behind +the sulphur springs turning from bronze to black-brown in the distance, +and the table flatness of the desert stretching ahead of them to the +limits of the world and the judgment day.” + +My companion paused, took a flaming reed from the fire, put it to his +pipe bowl, pulled hard at his pipe--all the time staring straight before +him, as if, among the glowing logs, he saw the caravan of the Parisians +winding onward across the desert sands. Then he turned to me, sighed, +and said: + +“You’ve seen mirage?” + +“Yes,” I answered. + +“Have you noticed that in mirage the things one fancies one sees +generally appear in large numbers--buildings crowded as in towns, +trees growing together as in woods, men shoulder to shoulder in large +companies?” + +My experience of mirage in the desert was so, and I acknowledged it. + +“Have you ever seen in a mirage a solitary figure?” he continued. + +I thought for a moment. Then I replied in the negative. + +“No more have I,” he said. “And I believe it’s a very rare occurrence. +Now mark the mirage that showed itself to mademoiselle on the first day +of the desert journey of the Parisians. She saw it on the northern verge +of the oasis of Sidi-Okba, late in the afternoon. As they journeyed +Tahar, their dragoman--he had applied for the post, and got it by the +desire of mademoiselle, who admired his lithe bearing and gorgeous +aplomb--Tahar suddenly pulled up his mule, pointed with his brown hand +to the horizon, and said in French: + +“‘There is mirage! Look! There is the mirage of the great desert!’ + +“Our Parisians, filled with excitement, gazed above the pointed ears of +their beasts, over the shimmering waste. There, beyond the palms of the +oasis, wrapped in a mysterious haze, lay the mirage. They looked at it +in silence. Then Mademoiselle cried, in her little bird’s clear voice: + +“‘Mirage! But surely he’s real?’ + +“‘What does mademoiselle see?’ asked Tahar quickly. + +“‘Why, a sort of faint landscape, through which a man--an Arab, I +suppose--is riding, towards Sidi--what is it?--Sidi-Okba! He’s got +something in front of him, hanging across his saddle.’ + +“Her relations looked at her in amazement. + +“‘I only see houses standing on the edge of water,’ said her sister. + +“‘And I!’ cried the husband. + +“‘Houses and water,’ assented Tahar. ‘It is always so in the mirage of +Sidi-Okba.’ + +“‘I see no houses, no water,’ cried mademoiselle, straining her eyes. +‘The Arab rides fast, like the wind. He is in a hurry. One would think +he was being pursued. Why, now he’s gone!’ + +“She turned to her companions. They saw still the fairy houses of the +mirage standing in the haze on the edge of the fairy water. + +“‘But,’ mademoiselle said impatiently, ‘there’s nothing at all now--only +sand.’ + +“‘Mademoiselle dreams,’ said Tahar. ‘The mirage is always there.’ + +“They rode forward. That night they camped near Sidi-Okba. At dinner, +while the stars came out, they talked of the mirage, and mademoiselle +still insisted that it was a mirage of a horseman bearing something +before him on his saddle-bow, and riding as if for life. And Tahar said +again: + +“‘Mademoiselle dreams!’ + +“As he spoke he looked at her with a mysterious intentness, which she +noticed. That night, in her little camp-bed, round which the desert +winds blew mildly, she did indeed dream. And her dream was of the magic +forms that ride on magic horses through mirage. + +“The next day, at dawn, the caravan of the Parisians went on its way, +winding farther into the desert. In leaving Sidi-Okba they left behind +them the last traces of civilisation--the French man and woman who keep +the auberge in the orange garden there. To-day, as they journeyed, a +sense of deep mystery flowed upon the heart of mademoiselle. She felt +that she was a little cockle-shell of a boat which, accustomed hitherto +only to the Seine, now set sail upon a mighty ocean. The fear of the +Sahara came upon her.” + +My companion paused. His face was grave, almost stern. + +“And her relations?” I asked. “Did they feel----” + +“Haven’t an idea what they felt,” he answered curtly. + +“But how do you know that mademoiselle + +“You’ll understand at the end of the story. As they journeyed in the +sun across the endless flats--for the mountains had vanished now, and +nothing broke the level of the sand--mademoiselle’s gaiety went from +her. Silent was the lively, chattering tongue that knew the jargon of +cities, the gossip of the Plage. She was oppressed. Tahar rode close at +her side. He seemed to have taken her under his special protection. Far +before them rode the attendants, chanting deep love songs in the sun. +The sound of those songs seemed like the sound of the great desert +singing of its wild and savage love to the heart of mademoiselle. At +first her brother-in-law and sister bantered her on her silence, but +Tahar stopped them, with a curious authority. + +“‘The desert speaks to mademoiselle,’ he said in her hearing. ‘Let her +listen.’ + +“He watched her continually with his huge eyes, and she did not mind +his glance, though she began to feel irritated and restless under the +observation of her relations. + +“Towards noon Tahar again described mirage. As he pointed it out he +stared fixedly at mademoiselle. + +“The two other Parisians exclaimed that they saw forest trees, a running +stream, a veritable oasis, where they longed to rest and eat their +_déjeuner_. + +“‘And mademoiselle?’ said Tahar. ‘What does she see?’ + +“She was gazing into the distance. Her face was very pale, and for a +moment she did not answer. Then she said: + +“‘I see again the Arab bearing the burden before him on the saddle. He +is much clearer than yesterday. I can almost see his face----’ + +“She paused. She was trembling. + +“‘But I cannot see what he carries. It seems to float on the wind, like +a robe, or a woman’s dress. Ah! _mon Dieu!_ how fast he rides!’ + +“She stared before her as if fascinated, and following with her eyes +some rapidly-moving object. Suddenly she shut her eyes. + +“‘He’s gone!’ she said. + +“‘And now--mademoiselle sees?’ said Tahar. + +“She opened her eyes. + +“‘Nothing.’ + +“‘Yet the mirage is still there,’ he said. + +“‘Valérie,’ cried her sister, ‘are you mad that you see what no one else +can see, and cannot see what all else see?” + +“‘Am I mad, Tahar?’ she said gravely, almost timidly, to the dragoman. + +“And the fear of the Sahara came again upon her. + +“‘Mademoiselle sees what she must,’ he answered. ‘The desert speaks to +the heart of mademoiselle.’ + +“That night there was moon. Mademoiselle could not sleep. She lay in her +narrow bed and thought of the figure in the mirage, while the moonbeams +stole in between the tent pegs to keep her company. She thought of +second sight, of phantoms, and of wraiths. Was this riding Arab, whom +she alone could see, a phantom of the Sahara, mysteriously accompanying +the caravan, and revealing himself to her through the medium of the +mirage as if in a magic mirror? She turned restlessly upon her pillow, +saw the naughty moonbeams, got up, and went softly to the tent door. +All the desert was bathed in light. She gazed out as a mariner gazes +out over the sea. She heard jackals yelping in the distance, peevish +in their insomnia, and fancied their voices were the voices of desert +demons. As she stood there she thought of the figure in the mirage, and +wondered if mirage ever rises at night--if, by chance, she might see +it now. And, while she stood wondering, far away across the sand there +floated up a silvery haze, like a veil of spangled tissue--exquisite for +a ball robe, she said long after!--and in this haze she saw again the +phantom Arab galloping upon his horse. But now he was clear in the moon. +Furiously he rode, like a thing demented in a dream, and as he rode he +looked back over his shoulder, as if he feared pursuit. Mademoiselle +could see his fierce eyes, like the eyes of a desert eagle that stares +unwinking at the glaring African sun. He urged on his fleet horse. She +could hear now the ceaseless thud of its hoofs upon the hard sand as it +drew nearer and nearer. She could see the white foam upon its steaming +flanks, and now at last she knew that the burden which the Arab bore +across his saddle and supported with his arms was a woman. Her robe flew +out upon the wind; her dark, loose hair streamed over the breast of the +horseman; her face was hidden against his heart; but mademoiselle saw +his face, uttered a cry, and shrank back against the canvas of the tent. + +“For it was the face of the Spahi who had ridden in the procession of +the Governor--of the Spahi to whom she had thrown the roses from the +balcony of Algiers. + +“As she cried out the mirage faded, the Arab vanished, the thud of the +horse’s hoofs died in her ears, and Tahar, the dragoman, glided round +the tent, and stood before her. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight like +ebon jewels. + +“‘Hush!’ he whispered, ‘mademoiselle sees the mirage?’ + +“Mademoiselle could not speak. She stared into the eyes of Tahar, and +hers were dilated with wonder. + +“He drew nearer to her. + +“‘Mademoiselle has seen again the horseman and his burden.’ + +“She bowed her head. All things seemed dream-like to her. Tahar’s voice +was low and monotonous, and sounded far away. + +“‘It is fate,’ he said. He paused, gazing upon her. + +“‘In the tents they all sleep,’ he murmured. ‘Even the watchman sleeps, +for I have given him a powder of hashish, and hashish gives long +dreams--long dreams.’ + +“From beneath his robe he drew a small box, opened it, and showed to +mademoiselle a dark brown powder, which he shook into a tiny cup of +water. + +“‘Mademoiselle shall drink, as the watchman has drunk,’ he said--‘shall +drink and dream.’ + +“He held the cup to her lips, and she, fascinated by his eyes, as by the +eyes of a mesmerist, could not disobey him. She swallowed the hashish, +swayed, and fell forward into his arms. + +“A moment later, across the spaces of the desert, whitened by the moon, +rode the figure mademoiselle had seen in the mirage. Upon his saddle +he bore a dreaming woman. And in the ears of the woman through all the +night beat the thunderous music of a horse’s hoofs spurning the desert +sand. Mademoiselle had taken her place in the vision which she no longer +saw.” + +My companion paused. His pipe had gone out. He did not relight it, but +sat looking at me in silence. + +“The Spahi?” I asked. + +“Had claimed the giver of the roses.” + +“And Tahar?” + +“The shots he fired after the Spahi missed fire. Yet Tahar was a notable +shot.” + +“A strange tale,” I said. “How did you come to hear it?” + +“A year ago I penetrated very far into the Sahara on a sporting +expedition. One day I came upon an encampment of nomads. The story was +told me by one of them as we sat in the low doorway of an earth-coloured +tent and watched the sun go down.” + +“Told you by an Arab?” + +He shook his head. + +“By whom, then?” + +“By a woman with a clear little bird’s voice, with an angel and a devil +in her dark beauty, a woman with the gesture of Paris--the grace, the +_diablerie_ of Paris.” + +Light broke on me. + +“By mademoiselle!” I exclaimed. + +“Pardon,” he answered; “by madame.” + +“She was married?” + +“To the figure in the mirage; and she was content.” + +“Content!” I cried. + +“Content with her two little dark children dancing before her in the +twilight, content when the figure of the mirage galloped at evening +across the plain, shouting an Eastern love song, with a gazelle--instead +of a woman--slung across his saddle-bow. Did I not say that, as the +desert is the strangest thing in nature, so a woman is the strangest +thing in human nature? Which heart is most mysterious?” + +“Its heart?” I said. + +“Or the heart of mademoiselle?” + +“I give the palm to the latter.” + +“And I,” he answered, taking off his wide-brimmed hat--“I gave it when +I saluted her as madame before the tent door, out there in the great +desert.” + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Figure In The Mirage, by Robert Hichens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 23412-0.txt or 23412-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/4/1/23412/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/23412-0.zip b/23412-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..abf0394 --- /dev/null +++ b/23412-0.zip diff --git a/23412-8.txt b/23412-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..44c5d7a --- /dev/null +++ b/23412-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,816 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Figure In The Mirage, by Robert Hichens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Figure In The Mirage + 1905 + +Author: Robert Hichens + +Release Date: November 8, 2007 [EBook #23412] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE + +By Robert Hichens + +Frederick A. Stokes Company Publishers + +Copyright, 1905 + + +On a windy night of Spring I sat by a great fire that had been built by +Moors on a plain of Morocco under the shadow of a white city, and talked +with a fellow-countryman, stranger to me till that day. We had met in +the morning in a filthy alley of the town, and had forgathered. He was a +wanderer for pleasure like myself, and, learning that he was staying in +a dreary hostelry haunted by fever, I invited him to dine in my camp, +and to pass the night in one of the small peaked tents that served +me and my Moorish attendants as home. He consented gladly. Dinner was +over--no bad one, for Moors can cook, can even make delicious caramel +pudding in desert places--and Mohammed, my stalwart _valet de chambre_, +had given us most excellent coffee. Now we smoked by the great fire, +looked up at the marvellously bright stars, and told, as is the way +of travellers, tales of our wanderings. My companion, whom +I took at first to be a rather ironic, sceptical, and by nature +"unimaginative globe-trotter--he was a hard-looking, iron-grey man of +middle-age--related the usual tiger story, the time-honoured elephant +anecdote, and a couple of snake yarns of no special value, and I was +beginning to fear that I should get little entertainment from so prosaic +a sportsman, when I chanced to mention the desert. + +"Ah!" said my guest, taking his pipe from his mouth, "the desert is +the strangest thing in nature, as woman is the strangest thing in human +nature. And when you get them together--desert and woman--by Jove!" + +He paused, then he shot a keen glance at me. + +"Ever been in the Sahara?" he said. + +I replied in the affirmative, but added that I had as yet only seen the +fringe of it. + +"Biskra, I suppose," he rejoined, "and the nearest oasis, Sidi-Okba, +and so on?" + +I nodded. I saw I was in for another tale, and anticipated some history +of shooting exploits under the salt mountain of El Outaya. + +"Well," he continued, "I know the Sahara pretty fairly, and about the +oddest thing I ever could believe in I heard of and believed in there." + +"Something about gazelle?" I queried. + +"Gazelle? No--a woman!" he replied.. + +As he spoke a Moor glided out of the windy darkness, and threw an armful +of dry reeds on the fire. The flames flared up vehemently, and I saw +that the face of my companion had changed. The hardness of it was +smoothed away. Some memory, that held its romance, sat with him. + +"A woman," he repeated, knocking the ashes out of his pipe almost +sentimentally--"more than that, a French woman of Paris, with the +nameless charm, the _chic_, the---- But I'll tell you. Some years ago +three Parisians--a man, his wife, and her unmarried sister, a girl of +eighteen, with an angel and a devil in her dark beauty--came to a great +resolve. They decided that they were tired of the Franais, sick of the +Bois, bored to death with the boulevards, that they wanted to see for +themselves the famous French colonies which were for ever being talked +about in the Chamber. They determined to travel. No sooner was +the determination come to than they were off. Htel des Colonies, +Marseilles; steamboat, _Le Gnral Chanzy_; five o'clock on a splendid, +sunny afternoon--Algiers, with its terraces, its white villas, its +palms, trees, and its Spahis!" + +"But----" I began. + +He foresaw my objection. + +"There were Spahis, and that's a point of my story. Some fte was on +in the town while our Parisians were there. All the African troops were +out--Zouaves, chasseurs, tirailleurs. The Governor went in procession +to perform some ceremony, and in front of his carriage rode sixteen +Spahis--probably got in from that desert camp of theirs near El Outaya. +All this was long before the Tsar visited Paris, and our Parisians had +never before seen the dashing Spahis, had only heard of them, of their +magnificent horses, their turbans and flowing Arab robes, their gorgeous +figures, lustrous eyes, and diabolic horsemanship. You know how they +ride? No cavalry to touch them--not even the Cossacks! Well, our +French friends were struck. The unmarried sister, more especially, was +_bouleverse_ by these glorious demons. As they caracoled beneath the +balcony on which she was leaning she clapped her little hands, in their +white kid gloves, and threw down a shower of roses. The falling flowers +frightened the horses. They pranced, bucked, reared. One Spahi--a great +fellow, eyes like a desert eagle, grand aquiline profile--on whom three +roses had dropped, looked up, saw mademoiselle--call her Valrie--gazing +down with her great, bright eyes--they were deuced fine eyes, by +Jove!----" + +"You've seen her?" I asked. + +"--and flashed a smile at her with his white teeth. It was his last day +in the service. He was in grand spirits. 'Mem Dieu! Mais quelles dents!' +she sang out. Her people laughed at her. The Spahi looked at her again-- +not smiling. She shrank back on the balcony. Then his place was taken by +the Governor--small imperial, _chapeau de forme_, evening dress, landau +and pair. Mademoiselle was _dsole_. Why couldn't civilised men look +like Spahis? Why were all Parisians commonplace? Why--why? Her sister +and brother-in-law called her the savage worshipper, and took her down +to the caf on the terrace to dine. And all through dinner mademoiselle +talked of the _beaux_ Spahis--in the plural, with a secret reservation +in her heart. After Algiers our Parisians went by way of Constantine to +Biskra. Now they saw desert for the first time--the curious iron-grey, +velvety-brown, and rose-pink mountains; the nomadic Arabs camping in +their earth-coloured tents patched with rags; the camels against the +skyline; the everlasting sands, broken here and there by the deep green +shadows of distant oases, where the close-growing palms, seen from far +off, give to the desert almost the effect that clouds give to Cornish +waters. At Biskra mademoiselle--oh! what she must have looked like under +the mimosa-trees before the Htel de l'Oasis!------" + +"Then you've seen her," I began. + +"--mademoiselle became enthusiastic again, and, almost before they knew +it, her sister and brother-in-law were committed to a desert expedition, +were fitted out with a dragoman, tents, mules--the whole show, in +fact--and one blazing hot day found themselves out in that sunshine--you +know it--with Biskra a green shadow on that sea, the mountains behind +the sulphur springs turning from bronze to black-brown in the distance, +and the table flatness of the desert stretching ahead of them to the +limits of the world and the judgment day." + +My companion paused, took a flaming reed from the fire, put it to his +pipe bowl, pulled hard at his pipe--all the time staring straight before +him, as if, among the glowing logs, he saw the caravan of the Parisians +winding onward across the desert sands. Then he turned to me, sighed, +and said: + +"You've seen mirage?" + +"Yes," I answered. + +"Have you noticed that in mirage the things one fancies one sees +generally appear in large numbers--buildings crowded as in towns, +trees growing together as in woods, men shoulder to shoulder in large +companies?" + +My experience of mirage in the desert was so, and I acknowledged it. + +"Have you ever seen in a mirage a solitary figure?" he continued. + +I thought for a moment. Then I replied in the negative. + +"No more have I," he said. "And I believe it's a very rare occurrence. +Now mark the mirage that showed itself to mademoiselle on the first day +of the desert journey of the Parisians. She saw it on the northern verge +of the oasis of Sidi-Okba, late in the afternoon. As they journeyed +Tahar, their dragoman--he had applied for the post, and got it by the +desire of mademoiselle, who admired his lithe bearing and gorgeous +aplomb--Tahar suddenly pulled up his mule, pointed with his brown hand +to the horizon, and said in French: + +"'There is mirage! Look! There is the mirage of the great desert!' + +"Our Parisians, filled with excitement, gazed above the pointed ears of +their beasts, over the shimmering waste. There, beyond the palms of the +oasis, wrapped in a mysterious haze, lay the mirage. They looked at it +in silence. Then Mademoiselle cried, in her little bird's clear voice: + +"'Mirage! But surely he's real?' + +"'What does mademoiselle see?' asked Tahar quickly. + +"'Why, a sort of faint landscape, through which a man--an Arab, I +suppose--is riding, towards Sidi--what is it?--Sidi-Okba! He's got +something in front of him, hanging across his saddle.' + +"Her relations looked at her in amazement. + +"'I only see houses standing on the edge of water,' said her sister. + +"'And I!' cried the husband. + +"'Houses and water,' assented Tahar. 'It is always so in the mirage of +Sidi-Okba.' + +"'I see no houses, no water,' cried mademoiselle, straining her eyes. +'The Arab rides fast, like the wind. He is in a hurry. One would think +he was being pursued. Why, now he's gone!' + +"She turned to her companions. They saw still the fairy houses of the +mirage standing in the haze on the edge of the fairy water. + +"'But,' mademoiselle said impatiently, 'there's nothing at all now--only +sand.' + +"'Mademoiselle dreams,' said Tahar. 'The mirage is always there.' + +"They rode forward. That night they camped near Sidi-Okba. At dinner, +while the stars came out, they talked of the mirage, and mademoiselle +still insisted that it was a mirage of a horseman bearing something +before him on his saddle-bow, and riding as if for life. And Tahar said +again: + +"'Mademoiselle dreams!' + +"As he spoke he looked at her with a mysterious intentness, which she +noticed. That night, in her little camp-bed, round which the desert +winds blew mildly, she did indeed dream. And her dream was of the magic +forms that ride on magic horses through mirage. + +"The next day, at dawn, the caravan of the Parisians went on its way, +winding farther into the desert. In leaving Sidi-Okba they left behind +them the last traces of civilisation--the French man and woman who keep +the auberge in the orange garden there. To-day, as they journeyed, a +sense of deep mystery flowed upon the heart of mademoiselle. She felt +that she was a little cockle-shell of a boat which, accustomed hitherto +only to the Seine, now set sail upon a mighty ocean. The fear of the +Sahara came upon her." + +My companion paused. His face was grave, almost stern. + +"And her relations?" I asked. "Did they feel----" + +"Haven't an idea what they felt," he answered curtly. + +"But how do you know that mademoiselle + +"You'll understand at the end of the story. As they journeyed in the +sun across the endless flats--for the mountains had vanished now, and +nothing broke the level of the sand--mademoiselle's gaiety went from +her. Silent was the lively, chattering tongue that knew the jargon of +cities, the gossip of the Plage. She was oppressed. Tahar rode close at +her side. He seemed to have taken her under his special protection. Far +before them rode the attendants, chanting deep love songs in the sun. +The sound of those songs seemed like the sound of the great desert +singing of its wild and savage love to the heart of mademoiselle. At +first her brother-in-law and sister bantered her on her silence, but +Tahar stopped them, with a curious authority. + +"'The desert speaks to mademoiselle,' he said in her hearing. 'Let her +listen.' + +"He watched her continually with his huge eyes, and she did not mind +his glance, though she began to feel irritated and restless under the +observation of her relations. + +"Towards noon Tahar again described mirage. As he pointed it out he +stared fixedly at mademoiselle. + +"The two other Parisians exclaimed that they saw forest trees, a running +stream, a veritable oasis, where they longed to rest and eat their +_djeuner_. + +"'And mademoiselle?' said Tahar. 'What does she see?' + +"She was gazing into the distance. Her face was very pale, and for a +moment she did not answer. Then she said: + +"'I see again the Arab bearing the burden before him on the saddle. He +is much clearer than yesterday. I can almost see his face----' + +"She paused. She was trembling. + +"'But I cannot see what he carries. It seems to float on the wind, like +a robe, or a woman's dress. Ah! _mon Dieu!_ how fast he rides!' + +"She stared before her as if fascinated, and following with her eyes +some rapidly-moving object. Suddenly she shut her eyes. + +"'He's gone!' she said. + +"'And now--mademoiselle sees?' said Tahar. + +"She opened her eyes. + +"'Nothing.' + +"'Yet the mirage is still there,' he said. + +"'Valrie,' cried her sister, 'are you mad that you see what no one else +can see, and cannot see what all else see?" + +"'Am I mad, Tahar?' she said gravely, almost timidly, to the dragoman. + +"And the fear of the Sahara came again upon her. + +"'Mademoiselle sees what she must,' he answered. 'The desert speaks to +the heart of mademoiselle.' + +"That night there was moon. Mademoiselle could not sleep. She lay in her +narrow bed and thought of the figure in the mirage, while the moonbeams +stole in between the tent pegs to keep her company. She thought of +second sight, of phantoms, and of wraiths. Was this riding Arab, whom +she alone could see, a phantom of the Sahara, mysteriously accompanying +the caravan, and revealing himself to her through the medium of the +mirage as if in a magic mirror? She turned restlessly upon her pillow, +saw the naughty moonbeams, got up, and went softly to the tent door. +All the desert was bathed in light. She gazed out as a mariner gazes +out over the sea. She heard jackals yelping in the distance, peevish +in their insomnia, and fancied their voices were the voices of desert +demons. As she stood there she thought of the figure in the mirage, and +wondered if mirage ever rises at night--if, by chance, she might see +it now. And, while she stood wondering, far away across the sand there +floated up a silvery haze, like a veil of spangled tissue--exquisite for +a ball robe, she said long after!--and in this haze she saw again the +phantom Arab galloping upon his horse. But now he was clear in the moon. +Furiously he rode, like a thing demented in a dream, and as he rode he +looked back over his shoulder, as if he feared pursuit. Mademoiselle +could see his fierce eyes, like the eyes of a desert eagle that stares +unwinking at the glaring African sun. He urged on his fleet horse. She +could hear now the ceaseless thud of its hoofs upon the hard sand as it +drew nearer and nearer. She could see the white foam upon its steaming +flanks, and now at last she knew that the burden which the Arab bore +across his saddle and supported with his arms was a woman. Her robe flew +out upon the wind; her dark, loose hair streamed over the breast of the +horseman; her face was hidden against his heart; but mademoiselle saw +his face, uttered a cry, and shrank back against the canvas of the tent. + +"For it was the face of the Spahi who had ridden in the procession of +the Governor--of the Spahi to whom she had thrown the roses from the +balcony of Algiers. + +"As she cried out the mirage faded, the Arab vanished, the thud of the +horse's hoofs died in her ears, and Tahar, the dragoman, glided round +the tent, and stood before her. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight like +ebon jewels. + +"'Hush!' he whispered, 'mademoiselle sees the mirage?' + +"Mademoiselle could not speak. She stared into the eyes of Tahar, and +hers were dilated with wonder. + +"He drew nearer to her. + +"'Mademoiselle has seen again the horseman and his burden.' + +"She bowed her head. All things seemed dream-like to her. Tahar's voice +was low and monotonous, and sounded far away. + +"'It is fate,' he said. He paused, gazing upon her. + +"'In the tents they all sleep,' he murmured. 'Even the watchman sleeps, +for I have given him a powder of hashish, and hashish gives long +dreams--long dreams.' + +"From beneath his robe he drew a small box, opened it, and showed to +mademoiselle a dark brown powder, which he shook into a tiny cup of +water. + +"'Mademoiselle shall drink, as the watchman has drunk,' he said--'shall +drink and dream.' + +"He held the cup to her lips, and she, fascinated by his eyes, as by the +eyes of a mesmerist, could not disobey him. She swallowed the hashish, +swayed, and fell forward into his arms. + +"A moment later, across the spaces of the desert, whitened by the moon, +rode the figure mademoiselle had seen in the mirage. Upon his saddle +he bore a dreaming woman. And in the ears of the woman through all the +night beat the thunderous music of a horse's hoofs spurning the desert +sand. Mademoiselle had taken her place in the vision which she no longer +saw." + +My companion paused. His pipe had gone out. He did not relight it, but +sat looking at me in silence. + +"The Spahi?" I asked. + +"Had claimed the giver of the roses." + +"And Tahar?" + +"The shots he fired after the Spahi missed fire. Yet Tahar was a notable +shot." + +"A strange tale," I said. "How did you come to hear it?" + +"A year ago I penetrated very far into the Sahara on a sporting +expedition. One day I came upon an encampment of nomads. The story was +told me by one of them as we sat in the low doorway of an earth-coloured +tent and watched the sun go down." + +"Told you by an Arab?" + +He shook his head. + +"By whom, then?" + +"By a woman with a clear little bird's voice, with an angel and a devil +in her dark beauty, a woman with the gesture of Paris--the grace, the +_diablerie_ of Paris." + +Light broke on me. + +"By mademoiselle!" I exclaimed. + +"Pardon," he answered; "by madame." + +"She was married?" + +"To the figure in the mirage; and she was content." + +"Content!" I cried. + +"Content with her two little dark children dancing before her in the +twilight, content when the figure of the mirage galloped at evening +across the plain, shouting an Eastern love song, with a gazelle--instead +of a woman--slung across his saddle-bow. Did I not say that, as the +desert is the strangest thing in nature, so a woman is the strangest +thing in human nature? Which heart is most mysterious?" + +"Its heart?" I said. + +"Or the heart of mademoiselle?" + +"I give the palm to the latter." + +"And I," he answered, taking off his wide-brimmed hat--"I gave it when +I saluted her as madame before the tent door, out there in the great +desert." + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Figure In The Mirage, by Robert Hichens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 23412-8.txt or 23412-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/4/1/23412/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Figure In The Mirage + 1905 + +Author: Robert Hichens + +Release Date: November 8, 2007 [EBook #23412] +Last Updated: September 25, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE + </h1> + <h2> + By Robert Hichens <br /> <br /> + </h2> + <h3> + Frederick A. Stokes Company Publishers + </h3> + <h4> + Copyright, 1905 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + On a windy night of Spring I sat by a great fire that had been built by + Moors on a plain of Morocco under the shadow of a white city, and talked + with a fellow-countryman, stranger to me till that day. We had met in the + morning in a filthy alley of the town, and had forgathered. He was a + wanderer for pleasure like myself, and, learning that he was staying in a + dreary hostelry haunted by fever, I invited him to dine in my camp, and to + pass the night in one of the small peaked tents that served me and my + Moorish attendants as home. He consented gladly. Dinner was over—no + bad one, for Moors can cook, can even make delicious caramel pudding in + desert places—and Mohammed, my stalwart <i>valet de chambre</i>, had + given us most excellent coffee. Now we smoked by the great fire, looked up + at the marvellously bright stars, and told, as is the way of travellers, + tales of our wanderings. My companion, whom I took at first to be a rather + ironic, sceptical, and by nature “unimaginative globe-trotter—he was + a hard-looking, iron-grey man of middle-age—related the usual tiger + story, the time-honoured elephant anecdote, and a couple of snake yarns of + no special value, and I was beginning to fear that I should get little + entertainment from so prosaic a sportsman, when I chanced to mention the + desert. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said my guest, taking his pipe from his mouth, “the desert is the + strangest thing in nature, as woman is the strangest thing in human + nature. And when you get them together—desert and woman—by + Jove!” + </p> + <p> + He paused, then he shot a keen glance at me. + </p> + <p> + “Ever been in the Sahara?” he said. + </p> + <p> + I replied in the affirmative, but added that I had as yet only seen the + fringe of it. + </p> + <p> + “Biskra, I suppose,” he rejoined, “and the nearest oasis, Sidi-Okba, and + so on?” + </p> + <p> + I nodded. I saw I was in for another tale, and anticipated some history of + shooting exploits under the salt mountain of El Outaya. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he continued, “I know the Sahara pretty fairly, and about the + oddest thing I ever could believe in I heard of and believed in there.” + </p> + <p> + “Something about gazelle?” I queried. + </p> + <p> + “Gazelle? No—a woman!” he replied.. + </p> + <p> + As he spoke a Moor glided out of the windy darkness, and threw an armful + of dry reeds on the fire. The flames flared up vehemently, and I saw that + the face of my companion had changed. The hardness of it was smoothed + away. Some memory, that held its romance, sat with him. + </p> + <p> + “A woman,” he repeated, knocking the ashes out of his pipe almost + sentimentally—“more than that, a French woman of Paris, with the + nameless charm, the <i>chic</i>, the—— But I’ll tell you. Some + years ago three Parisians—a man, his wife, and her unmarried sister, + a girl of eighteen, with an angel and a devil in her dark beauty—came + to a great resolve. They decided that they were tired of the Français, + sick of the Bois, bored to death with the boulevards, that they wanted to + see for themselves the famous French colonies which were for ever being + talked about in the Chamber. They determined to travel. No sooner was the + determination come to than they were off. Hôtel des Colonies, Marseilles; + steamboat, <i>Le Général Chanzy</i>; five o’clock on a splendid, sunny + afternoon—Algiers, with its terraces, its white villas, its palms, + trees, and its Spahis!” + </p> + <p> + “But——” I began. + </p> + <p> + He foresaw my objection. + </p> + <p> + “There were Spahis, and that’s a point of my story. Some fête was on in + the town while our Parisians were there. All the African troops were out—Zouaves, + chasseurs, tirailleurs. The Governor went in procession to perform some + ceremony, and in front of his carriage rode sixteen Spahis—probably + got in from that desert camp of theirs near El Outaya. All this was long + before the Tsar visited Paris, and our Parisians had never before seen the + dashing Spahis, had only heard of them, of their magnificent horses, their + turbans and flowing Arab robes, their gorgeous figures, lustrous eyes, and + diabolic horsemanship. You know how they ride? No cavalry to touch them—not + even the Cossacks! Well, our French friends were struck. The unmarried + sister, more especially, was <i>bouleversée</i> by these glorious demons. + As they caracoled beneath the balcony on which she was leaning she clapped + her little hands, in their white kid gloves, and threw down a shower of + roses. The falling flowers frightened the horses. They pranced, bucked, + reared. One Spahi—a great fellow, eyes like a desert eagle, grand + aquiline profile—on whom three roses had dropped, looked up, saw + mademoiselle—call her Valérie—gazing down with her great, + bright eyes—they were deuced fine eyes, by Jove!——” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve seen her?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “—and flashed a smile at her with his white teeth. It was his last + day in the service. He was in grand spirits. ‘Mem Dieu! Mais quelles + dents!’ she sang out. Her people laughed at her. The Spahi looked at her + again— not smiling. She shrank back on the balcony. Then his place + was taken by the Governor—small imperial, <i>chapeau de forme</i>, + evening dress, landau and pair. Mademoiselle was <i>désolée</i>. Why + couldn’t civilised men look like Spahis? Why were all Parisians + commonplace? Why—why? Her sister and brother-in-law called her the + savage worshipper, and took her down to the café on the terrace to dine. + And all through dinner mademoiselle talked of the <i>beaux</i> Spahis—in + the plural, with a secret reservation in her heart. After Algiers our + Parisians went by way of Constantine to Biskra. Now they saw desert for + the first time—the curious iron-grey, velvety-brown, and rose-pink + mountains; the nomadic Arabs camping in their earth-coloured tents patched + with rags; the camels against the skyline; the everlasting sands, broken + here and there by the deep green shadows of distant oases, where the + close-growing palms, seen from far off, give to the desert almost the + effect that clouds give to Cornish waters. At Biskra mademoiselle—oh! + what she must have looked like under the mimosa-trees before the Hôtel de + l’Oasis!———” + </p> + <p> + “Then you’ve seen her,” I began. + </p> + <p> + “—mademoiselle became enthusiastic again, and, almost before they + knew it, her sister and brother-in-law were committed to a desert + expedition, were fitted out with a dragoman, tents, mules—the whole + show, in fact—and one blazing hot day found themselves out in that + sunshine—you know it—with Biskra a green shadow on that sea, + the mountains behind the sulphur springs turning from bronze to + black-brown in the distance, and the table flatness of the desert + stretching ahead of them to the limits of the world and the judgment day.” + </p> + <p> + My companion paused, took a flaming reed from the fire, put it to his pipe + bowl, pulled hard at his pipe—all the time staring straight before + him, as if, among the glowing logs, he saw the caravan of the Parisians + winding onward across the desert sands. Then he turned to me, sighed, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “You’ve seen mirage?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed that in mirage the things one fancies one sees generally + appear in large numbers—buildings crowded as in towns, trees growing + together as in woods, men shoulder to shoulder in large companies?” + </p> + <p> + My experience of mirage in the desert was so, and I acknowledged it. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever seen in a mirage a solitary figure?” he continued. + </p> + <p> + I thought for a moment. Then I replied in the negative. + </p> + <p> + “No more have I,” he said. “And I believe it’s a very rare occurrence. Now + mark the mirage that showed itself to mademoiselle on the first day of the + desert journey of the Parisians. She saw it on the northern verge of the + oasis of Sidi-Okba, late in the afternoon. As they journeyed Tahar, their + dragoman—he had applied for the post, and got it by the desire of + mademoiselle, who admired his lithe bearing and gorgeous aplomb—Tahar + suddenly pulled up his mule, pointed with his brown hand to the horizon, + and said in French: + </p> + <p> + “‘There is mirage! Look! There is the mirage of the great desert!’ + </p> + <p> + “Our Parisians, filled with excitement, gazed above the pointed ears of + their beasts, over the shimmering waste. There, beyond the palms of the + oasis, wrapped in a mysterious haze, lay the mirage. They looked at it in + silence. Then Mademoiselle cried, in her little bird’s clear voice: + </p> + <p> + “‘Mirage! But surely he’s real?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What does mademoiselle see?’ asked Tahar quickly. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, a sort of faint landscape, through which a man—an Arab, I + suppose—is riding, towards Sidi—what is it?—Sidi-Okba! + He’s got something in front of him, hanging across his saddle.’ + </p> + <p> + “Her relations looked at her in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “‘I only see houses standing on the edge of water,’ said her sister. + </p> + <p> + “‘And I!’ cried the husband. + </p> + <p> + “‘Houses and water,’ assented Tahar. ‘It is always so in the mirage of + Sidi-Okba.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I see no houses, no water,’ cried mademoiselle, straining her eyes. ‘The + Arab rides fast, like the wind. He is in a hurry. One would think he was + being pursued. Why, now he’s gone!’ + </p> + <p> + “She turned to her companions. They saw still the fairy houses of the + mirage standing in the haze on the edge of the fairy water. + </p> + <p> + “‘But,’ mademoiselle said impatiently, ‘there’s nothing at all now—only + sand.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle dreams,’ said Tahar. ‘The mirage is always there.’ + </p> + <p> + “They rode forward. That night they camped near Sidi-Okba. At dinner, + while the stars came out, they talked of the mirage, and mademoiselle + still insisted that it was a mirage of a horseman bearing something before + him on his saddle-bow, and riding as if for life. And Tahar said again: + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle dreams!’ + </p> + <p> + “As he spoke he looked at her with a mysterious intentness, which she + noticed. That night, in her little camp-bed, round which the desert winds + blew mildly, she did indeed dream. And her dream was of the magic forms + that ride on magic horses through mirage. + </p> + <p> + “The next day, at dawn, the caravan of the Parisians went on its way, + winding farther into the desert. In leaving Sidi-Okba they left behind + them the last traces of civilisation—the French man and woman who + keep the auberge in the orange garden there. To-day, as they journeyed, a + sense of deep mystery flowed upon the heart of mademoiselle. She felt that + she was a little cockle-shell of a boat which, accustomed hitherto only to + the Seine, now set sail upon a mighty ocean. The fear of the Sahara came + upon her.” + </p> + <p> + My companion paused. His face was grave, almost stern. + </p> + <p> + “And her relations?” I asked. “Did they feel——” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t an idea what they felt,” he answered curtly. + </p> + <p> + “But how do you know that mademoiselle + </p> + <p> + “You’ll understand at the end of the story. As they journeyed in the sun + across the endless flats—for the mountains had vanished now, and + nothing broke the level of the sand—mademoiselle’s gaiety went from + her. Silent was the lively, chattering tongue that knew the jargon of + cities, the gossip of the Plage. She was oppressed. Tahar rode close at + her side. He seemed to have taken her under his special protection. Far + before them rode the attendants, chanting deep love songs in the sun. The + sound of those songs seemed like the sound of the great desert singing of + its wild and savage love to the heart of mademoiselle. At first her + brother-in-law and sister bantered her on her silence, but Tahar stopped + them, with a curious authority. + </p> + <p> + “‘The desert speaks to mademoiselle,’ he said in her hearing. ‘Let her + listen.’ + </p> + <p> + “He watched her continually with his huge eyes, and she did not mind his + glance, though she began to feel irritated and restless under the + observation of her relations. + </p> + <p> + “Towards noon Tahar again described mirage. As he pointed it out he stared + fixedly at mademoiselle. + </p> + <p> + “The two other Parisians exclaimed that they saw forest trees, a running + stream, a veritable oasis, where they longed to rest and eat their <i>déjeuner</i>. + </p> + <p> + “‘And mademoiselle?’ said Tahar. ‘What does she see?’ + </p> + <p> + “She was gazing into the distance. Her face was very pale, and for a + moment she did not answer. Then she said: + </p> + <p> + “‘I see again the Arab bearing the burden before him on the saddle. He is + much clearer than yesterday. I can almost see his face——’ + </p> + <p> + “She paused. She was trembling. + </p> + <p> + “‘But I cannot see what he carries. It seems to float on the wind, like a + robe, or a woman’s dress. Ah! <i>mon Dieu!</i> how fast he rides!’ + </p> + <p> + “She stared before her as if fascinated, and following with her eyes some + rapidly-moving object. Suddenly she shut her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “‘He’s gone!’ she said. + </p> + <p> + “‘And now—mademoiselle sees?’ said Tahar. + </p> + <p> + “She opened her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “‘Nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yet the mirage is still there,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “‘Valérie,’ cried her sister, ‘are you mad that you see what no one else + can see, and cannot see what all else see?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Am I mad, Tahar?’ she said gravely, almost timidly, to the dragoman. + </p> + <p> + “And the fear of the Sahara came again upon her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle sees what she must,’ he answered. ‘The desert speaks to the + heart of mademoiselle.’ + </p> + <p> + “That night there was moon. Mademoiselle could not sleep. She lay in her + narrow bed and thought of the figure in the mirage, while the moonbeams + stole in between the tent pegs to keep her company. She thought of second + sight, of phantoms, and of wraiths. Was this riding Arab, whom she alone + could see, a phantom of the Sahara, mysteriously accompanying the caravan, + and revealing himself to her through the medium of the mirage as if in a + magic mirror? She turned restlessly upon her pillow, saw the naughty + moonbeams, got up, and went softly to the tent door. All the desert was + bathed in light. She gazed out as a mariner gazes out over the sea. She + heard jackals yelping in the distance, peevish in their insomnia, and + fancied their voices were the voices of desert demons. As she stood there + she thought of the figure in the mirage, and wondered if mirage ever rises + at night—if, by chance, she might see it now. And, while she stood + wondering, far away across the sand there floated up a silvery haze, like + a veil of spangled tissue—exquisite for a ball robe, she said long + after!—and in this haze she saw again the phantom Arab galloping + upon his horse. But now he was clear in the moon. Furiously he rode, like + a thing demented in a dream, and as he rode he looked back over his + shoulder, as if he feared pursuit. Mademoiselle could see his fierce eyes, + like the eyes of a desert eagle that stares unwinking at the glaring + African sun. He urged on his fleet horse. She could hear now the ceaseless + thud of its hoofs upon the hard sand as it drew nearer and nearer. She + could see the white foam upon its steaming flanks, and now at last she + knew that the burden which the Arab bore across his saddle and supported + with his arms was a woman. Her robe flew out upon the wind; her dark, + loose hair streamed over the breast of the horseman; her face was hidden + against his heart; but mademoiselle saw his face, uttered a cry, and + shrank back against the canvas of the tent. + </p> + <p> + “For it was the face of the Spahi who had ridden in the procession of the + Governor—of the Spahi to whom she had thrown the roses from the + balcony of Algiers. + </p> + <p> + “As she cried out the mirage faded, the Arab vanished, the thud of the + horse’s hoofs died in her ears, and Tahar, the dragoman, glided round the + tent, and stood before her. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight like ebon + jewels. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hush!’ he whispered, ‘mademoiselle sees the mirage?’ + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle could not speak. She stared into the eyes of Tahar, and hers + were dilated with wonder. + </p> + <p> + “He drew nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle has seen again the horseman and his burden.’ + </p> + <p> + “She bowed her head. All things seemed dream-like to her. Tahar’s voice + was low and monotonous, and sounded far away. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is fate,’ he said. He paused, gazing upon her. + </p> + <p> + “‘In the tents they all sleep,’ he murmured. ‘Even the watchman sleeps, + for I have given him a powder of hashish, and hashish gives long dreams—long + dreams.’ + </p> + <p> + “From beneath his robe he drew a small box, opened it, and showed to + mademoiselle a dark brown powder, which he shook into a tiny cup of water. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle shall drink, as the watchman has drunk,’ he said—‘shall + drink and dream.’ + </p> + <p> + “He held the cup to her lips, and she, fascinated by his eyes, as by the + eyes of a mesmerist, could not disobey him. She swallowed the hashish, + swayed, and fell forward into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “A moment later, across the spaces of the desert, whitened by the moon, + rode the figure mademoiselle had seen in the mirage. Upon his saddle he + bore a dreaming woman. And in the ears of the woman through all the night + beat the thunderous music of a horse’s hoofs spurning the desert sand. + Mademoiselle had taken her place in the vision which she no longer saw.” + </p> + <p> + My companion paused. His pipe had gone out. He did not relight it, but sat + looking at me in silence. + </p> + <p> + “The Spahi?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Had claimed the giver of the roses.” + </p> + <p> + “And Tahar?” + </p> + <p> + “The shots he fired after the Spahi missed fire. Yet Tahar was a notable + shot.” + </p> + <p> + “A strange tale,” I said. “How did you come to hear it?” + </p> + <p> + “A year ago I penetrated very far into the Sahara on a sporting + expedition. One day I came upon an encampment of nomads. The story was + told me by one of them as we sat in the low doorway of an earth-coloured + tent and watched the sun go down.” + </p> + <p> + “Told you by an Arab?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “By whom, then?” + </p> + <p> + “By a woman with a clear little bird’s voice, with an angel and a devil in + her dark beauty, a woman with the gesture of Paris—the grace, the <i>diablerie</i> + of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + Light broke on me. + </p> + <p> + “By mademoiselle!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon,” he answered; “by madame.” + </p> + <p> + “She was married?” + </p> + <p> + “To the figure in the mirage; and she was content.” + </p> + <p> + “Content!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Content with her two little dark children dancing before her in the + twilight, content when the figure of the mirage galloped at evening across + the plain, shouting an Eastern love song, with a gazelle—instead of + a woman—slung across his saddle-bow. Did I not say that, as the + desert is the strangest thing in nature, so a woman is the strangest thing + in human nature? Which heart is most mysterious?” + </p> + <p> + “Its heart?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Or the heart of mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + “I give the palm to the latter.” + </p> + <p> + “And I,” he answered, taking off his wide-brimmed hat—“I gave it + when I saluted her as madame before the tent door, out there in the great + desert.” + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Figure In The Mirage, by Robert Hichens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 23412-h.htm or 23412-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/4/1/23412/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Figure In The Mirage + 1905 + +Author: Robert Hichens + +Release Date: November 8, 2007 [EBook #23412] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE + +By Robert Hichens + +Frederick A. Stokes Company Publishers + +Copyright, 1905 + + +On a windy night of Spring I sat by a great fire that had been built by +Moors on a plain of Morocco under the shadow of a white city, and talked +with a fellow-countryman, stranger to me till that day. We had met in +the morning in a filthy alley of the town, and had forgathered. He was a +wanderer for pleasure like myself, and, learning that he was staying in +a dreary hostelry haunted by fever, I invited him to dine in my camp, +and to pass the night in one of the small peaked tents that served +me and my Moorish attendants as home. He consented gladly. Dinner was +over--no bad one, for Moors can cook, can even make delicious caramel +pudding in desert places--and Mohammed, my stalwart _valet de chambre_, +had given us most excellent coffee. Now we smoked by the great fire, +looked up at the marvellously bright stars, and told, as is the way +of travellers, tales of our wanderings. My companion, whom +I took at first to be a rather ironic, sceptical, and by nature +"unimaginative globe-trotter--he was a hard-looking, iron-grey man of +middle-age--related the usual tiger story, the time-honoured elephant +anecdote, and a couple of snake yarns of no special value, and I was +beginning to fear that I should get little entertainment from so prosaic +a sportsman, when I chanced to mention the desert. + +"Ah!" said my guest, taking his pipe from his mouth, "the desert is +the strangest thing in nature, as woman is the strangest thing in human +nature. And when you get them together--desert and woman--by Jove!" + +He paused, then he shot a keen glance at me. + +"Ever been in the Sahara?" he said. + +I replied in the affirmative, but added that I had as yet only seen the +fringe of it. + +"Biskra, I suppose," he rejoined, "and the nearest oasis, Sidi-Okba, +and so on?" + +I nodded. I saw I was in for another tale, and anticipated some history +of shooting exploits under the salt mountain of El Outaya. + +"Well," he continued, "I know the Sahara pretty fairly, and about the +oddest thing I ever could believe in I heard of and believed in there." + +"Something about gazelle?" I queried. + +"Gazelle? No--a woman!" he replied.. + +As he spoke a Moor glided out of the windy darkness, and threw an armful +of dry reeds on the fire. The flames flared up vehemently, and I saw +that the face of my companion had changed. The hardness of it was +smoothed away. Some memory, that held its romance, sat with him. + +"A woman," he repeated, knocking the ashes out of his pipe almost +sentimentally--"more than that, a French woman of Paris, with the +nameless charm, the _chic_, the---- But I'll tell you. Some years ago +three Parisians--a man, his wife, and her unmarried sister, a girl of +eighteen, with an angel and a devil in her dark beauty--came to a great +resolve. They decided that they were tired of the Francais, sick of the +Bois, bored to death with the boulevards, that they wanted to see for +themselves the famous French colonies which were for ever being talked +about in the Chamber. They determined to travel. No sooner was +the determination come to than they were off. Hotel des Colonies, +Marseilles; steamboat, _Le General Chanzy_; five o'clock on a splendid, +sunny afternoon--Algiers, with its terraces, its white villas, its +palms, trees, and its Spahis!" + +"But----" I began. + +He foresaw my objection. + +"There were Spahis, and that's a point of my story. Some fete was on +in the town while our Parisians were there. All the African troops were +out--Zouaves, chasseurs, tirailleurs. The Governor went in procession +to perform some ceremony, and in front of his carriage rode sixteen +Spahis--probably got in from that desert camp of theirs near El Outaya. +All this was long before the Tsar visited Paris, and our Parisians had +never before seen the dashing Spahis, had only heard of them, of their +magnificent horses, their turbans and flowing Arab robes, their gorgeous +figures, lustrous eyes, and diabolic horsemanship. You know how they +ride? No cavalry to touch them--not even the Cossacks! Well, our +French friends were struck. The unmarried sister, more especially, was +_bouleversee_ by these glorious demons. As they caracoled beneath the +balcony on which she was leaning she clapped her little hands, in their +white kid gloves, and threw down a shower of roses. The falling flowers +frightened the horses. They pranced, bucked, reared. One Spahi--a great +fellow, eyes like a desert eagle, grand aquiline profile--on whom three +roses had dropped, looked up, saw mademoiselle--call her Valerie--gazing +down with her great, bright eyes--they were deuced fine eyes, by +Jove!----" + +"You've seen her?" I asked. + +"--and flashed a smile at her with his white teeth. It was his last day +in the service. He was in grand spirits. 'Mem Dieu! Mais quelles dents!' +she sang out. Her people laughed at her. The Spahi looked at her again-- +not smiling. She shrank back on the balcony. Then his place was taken by +the Governor--small imperial, _chapeau de forme_, evening dress, landau +and pair. Mademoiselle was _desolee_. Why couldn't civilised men look +like Spahis? Why were all Parisians commonplace? Why--why? Her sister +and brother-in-law called her the savage worshipper, and took her down +to the cafe on the terrace to dine. And all through dinner mademoiselle +talked of the _beaux_ Spahis--in the plural, with a secret reservation +in her heart. After Algiers our Parisians went by way of Constantine to +Biskra. Now they saw desert for the first time--the curious iron-grey, +velvety-brown, and rose-pink mountains; the nomadic Arabs camping in +their earth-coloured tents patched with rags; the camels against the +skyline; the everlasting sands, broken here and there by the deep green +shadows of distant oases, where the close-growing palms, seen from far +off, give to the desert almost the effect that clouds give to Cornish +waters. At Biskra mademoiselle--oh! what she must have looked like under +the mimosa-trees before the Hotel de l'Oasis!------" + +"Then you've seen her," I began. + +"--mademoiselle became enthusiastic again, and, almost before they knew +it, her sister and brother-in-law were committed to a desert expedition, +were fitted out with a dragoman, tents, mules--the whole show, in +fact--and one blazing hot day found themselves out in that sunshine--you +know it--with Biskra a green shadow on that sea, the mountains behind +the sulphur springs turning from bronze to black-brown in the distance, +and the table flatness of the desert stretching ahead of them to the +limits of the world and the judgment day." + +My companion paused, took a flaming reed from the fire, put it to his +pipe bowl, pulled hard at his pipe--all the time staring straight before +him, as if, among the glowing logs, he saw the caravan of the Parisians +winding onward across the desert sands. Then he turned to me, sighed, +and said: + +"You've seen mirage?" + +"Yes," I answered. + +"Have you noticed that in mirage the things one fancies one sees +generally appear in large numbers--buildings crowded as in towns, +trees growing together as in woods, men shoulder to shoulder in large +companies?" + +My experience of mirage in the desert was so, and I acknowledged it. + +"Have you ever seen in a mirage a solitary figure?" he continued. + +I thought for a moment. Then I replied in the negative. + +"No more have I," he said. "And I believe it's a very rare occurrence. +Now mark the mirage that showed itself to mademoiselle on the first day +of the desert journey of the Parisians. She saw it on the northern verge +of the oasis of Sidi-Okba, late in the afternoon. As they journeyed +Tahar, their dragoman--he had applied for the post, and got it by the +desire of mademoiselle, who admired his lithe bearing and gorgeous +aplomb--Tahar suddenly pulled up his mule, pointed with his brown hand +to the horizon, and said in French: + +"'There is mirage! Look! There is the mirage of the great desert!' + +"Our Parisians, filled with excitement, gazed above the pointed ears of +their beasts, over the shimmering waste. There, beyond the palms of the +oasis, wrapped in a mysterious haze, lay the mirage. They looked at it +in silence. Then Mademoiselle cried, in her little bird's clear voice: + +"'Mirage! But surely he's real?' + +"'What does mademoiselle see?' asked Tahar quickly. + +"'Why, a sort of faint landscape, through which a man--an Arab, I +suppose--is riding, towards Sidi--what is it?--Sidi-Okba! He's got +something in front of him, hanging across his saddle.' + +"Her relations looked at her in amazement. + +"'I only see houses standing on the edge of water,' said her sister. + +"'And I!' cried the husband. + +"'Houses and water,' assented Tahar. 'It is always so in the mirage of +Sidi-Okba.' + +"'I see no houses, no water,' cried mademoiselle, straining her eyes. +'The Arab rides fast, like the wind. He is in a hurry. One would think +he was being pursued. Why, now he's gone!' + +"She turned to her companions. They saw still the fairy houses of the +mirage standing in the haze on the edge of the fairy water. + +"'But,' mademoiselle said impatiently, 'there's nothing at all now--only +sand.' + +"'Mademoiselle dreams,' said Tahar. 'The mirage is always there.' + +"They rode forward. That night they camped near Sidi-Okba. At dinner, +while the stars came out, they talked of the mirage, and mademoiselle +still insisted that it was a mirage of a horseman bearing something +before him on his saddle-bow, and riding as if for life. And Tahar said +again: + +"'Mademoiselle dreams!' + +"As he spoke he looked at her with a mysterious intentness, which she +noticed. That night, in her little camp-bed, round which the desert +winds blew mildly, she did indeed dream. And her dream was of the magic +forms that ride on magic horses through mirage. + +"The next day, at dawn, the caravan of the Parisians went on its way, +winding farther into the desert. In leaving Sidi-Okba they left behind +them the last traces of civilisation--the French man and woman who keep +the auberge in the orange garden there. To-day, as they journeyed, a +sense of deep mystery flowed upon the heart of mademoiselle. She felt +that she was a little cockle-shell of a boat which, accustomed hitherto +only to the Seine, now set sail upon a mighty ocean. The fear of the +Sahara came upon her." + +My companion paused. His face was grave, almost stern. + +"And her relations?" I asked. "Did they feel----" + +"Haven't an idea what they felt," he answered curtly. + +"But how do you know that mademoiselle + +"You'll understand at the end of the story. As they journeyed in the +sun across the endless flats--for the mountains had vanished now, and +nothing broke the level of the sand--mademoiselle's gaiety went from +her. Silent was the lively, chattering tongue that knew the jargon of +cities, the gossip of the Plage. She was oppressed. Tahar rode close at +her side. He seemed to have taken her under his special protection. Far +before them rode the attendants, chanting deep love songs in the sun. +The sound of those songs seemed like the sound of the great desert +singing of its wild and savage love to the heart of mademoiselle. At +first her brother-in-law and sister bantered her on her silence, but +Tahar stopped them, with a curious authority. + +"'The desert speaks to mademoiselle,' he said in her hearing. 'Let her +listen.' + +"He watched her continually with his huge eyes, and she did not mind +his glance, though she began to feel irritated and restless under the +observation of her relations. + +"Towards noon Tahar again described mirage. As he pointed it out he +stared fixedly at mademoiselle. + +"The two other Parisians exclaimed that they saw forest trees, a running +stream, a veritable oasis, where they longed to rest and eat their +_dejeuner_. + +"'And mademoiselle?' said Tahar. 'What does she see?' + +"She was gazing into the distance. Her face was very pale, and for a +moment she did not answer. Then she said: + +"'I see again the Arab bearing the burden before him on the saddle. He +is much clearer than yesterday. I can almost see his face----' + +"She paused. She was trembling. + +"'But I cannot see what he carries. It seems to float on the wind, like +a robe, or a woman's dress. Ah! _mon Dieu!_ how fast he rides!' + +"She stared before her as if fascinated, and following with her eyes +some rapidly-moving object. Suddenly she shut her eyes. + +"'He's gone!' she said. + +"'And now--mademoiselle sees?' said Tahar. + +"She opened her eyes. + +"'Nothing.' + +"'Yet the mirage is still there,' he said. + +"'Valerie,' cried her sister, 'are you mad that you see what no one else +can see, and cannot see what all else see?" + +"'Am I mad, Tahar?' she said gravely, almost timidly, to the dragoman. + +"And the fear of the Sahara came again upon her. + +"'Mademoiselle sees what she must,' he answered. 'The desert speaks to +the heart of mademoiselle.' + +"That night there was moon. Mademoiselle could not sleep. She lay in her +narrow bed and thought of the figure in the mirage, while the moonbeams +stole in between the tent pegs to keep her company. She thought of +second sight, of phantoms, and of wraiths. Was this riding Arab, whom +she alone could see, a phantom of the Sahara, mysteriously accompanying +the caravan, and revealing himself to her through the medium of the +mirage as if in a magic mirror? She turned restlessly upon her pillow, +saw the naughty moonbeams, got up, and went softly to the tent door. +All the desert was bathed in light. She gazed out as a mariner gazes +out over the sea. She heard jackals yelping in the distance, peevish +in their insomnia, and fancied their voices were the voices of desert +demons. As she stood there she thought of the figure in the mirage, and +wondered if mirage ever rises at night--if, by chance, she might see +it now. And, while she stood wondering, far away across the sand there +floated up a silvery haze, like a veil of spangled tissue--exquisite for +a ball robe, she said long after!--and in this haze she saw again the +phantom Arab galloping upon his horse. But now he was clear in the moon. +Furiously he rode, like a thing demented in a dream, and as he rode he +looked back over his shoulder, as if he feared pursuit. Mademoiselle +could see his fierce eyes, like the eyes of a desert eagle that stares +unwinking at the glaring African sun. He urged on his fleet horse. She +could hear now the ceaseless thud of its hoofs upon the hard sand as it +drew nearer and nearer. She could see the white foam upon its steaming +flanks, and now at last she knew that the burden which the Arab bore +across his saddle and supported with his arms was a woman. Her robe flew +out upon the wind; her dark, loose hair streamed over the breast of the +horseman; her face was hidden against his heart; but mademoiselle saw +his face, uttered a cry, and shrank back against the canvas of the tent. + +"For it was the face of the Spahi who had ridden in the procession of +the Governor--of the Spahi to whom she had thrown the roses from the +balcony of Algiers. + +"As she cried out the mirage faded, the Arab vanished, the thud of the +horse's hoofs died in her ears, and Tahar, the dragoman, glided round +the tent, and stood before her. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight like +ebon jewels. + +"'Hush!' he whispered, 'mademoiselle sees the mirage?' + +"Mademoiselle could not speak. She stared into the eyes of Tahar, and +hers were dilated with wonder. + +"He drew nearer to her. + +"'Mademoiselle has seen again the horseman and his burden.' + +"She bowed her head. All things seemed dream-like to her. Tahar's voice +was low and monotonous, and sounded far away. + +"'It is fate,' he said. He paused, gazing upon her. + +"'In the tents they all sleep,' he murmured. 'Even the watchman sleeps, +for I have given him a powder of hashish, and hashish gives long +dreams--long dreams.' + +"From beneath his robe he drew a small box, opened it, and showed to +mademoiselle a dark brown powder, which he shook into a tiny cup of +water. + +"'Mademoiselle shall drink, as the watchman has drunk,' he said--'shall +drink and dream.' + +"He held the cup to her lips, and she, fascinated by his eyes, as by the +eyes of a mesmerist, could not disobey him. She swallowed the hashish, +swayed, and fell forward into his arms. + +"A moment later, across the spaces of the desert, whitened by the moon, +rode the figure mademoiselle had seen in the mirage. Upon his saddle +he bore a dreaming woman. And in the ears of the woman through all the +night beat the thunderous music of a horse's hoofs spurning the desert +sand. Mademoiselle had taken her place in the vision which she no longer +saw." + +My companion paused. His pipe had gone out. He did not relight it, but +sat looking at me in silence. + +"The Spahi?" I asked. + +"Had claimed the giver of the roses." + +"And Tahar?" + +"The shots he fired after the Spahi missed fire. Yet Tahar was a notable +shot." + +"A strange tale," I said. "How did you come to hear it?" + +"A year ago I penetrated very far into the Sahara on a sporting +expedition. One day I came upon an encampment of nomads. The story was +told me by one of them as we sat in the low doorway of an earth-coloured +tent and watched the sun go down." + +"Told you by an Arab?" + +He shook his head. + +"By whom, then?" + +"By a woman with a clear little bird's voice, with an angel and a devil +in her dark beauty, a woman with the gesture of Paris--the grace, the +_diablerie_ of Paris." + +Light broke on me. + +"By mademoiselle!" I exclaimed. + +"Pardon," he answered; "by madame." + +"She was married?" + +"To the figure in the mirage; and she was content." + +"Content!" I cried. + +"Content with her two little dark children dancing before her in the +twilight, content when the figure of the mirage galloped at evening +across the plain, shouting an Eastern love song, with a gazelle--instead +of a woman--slung across his saddle-bow. Did I not say that, as the +desert is the strangest thing in nature, so a woman is the strangest +thing in human nature? Which heart is most mysterious?" + +"Its heart?" I said. + +"Or the heart of mademoiselle?" + +"I give the palm to the latter." + +"And I," he answered, taking off his wide-brimmed hat--"I gave it when +I saluted her as madame before the tent door, out there in the great +desert." + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Figure In The Mirage, by Robert Hichens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 23412.txt or 23412.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/4/1/23412/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Figure In The Mirage + 1905 + +Author: Robert Hichens + +Release Date: November 8, 2007 [EBook #23412] +Last Updated: September 25, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE + </h1> + <h2> + By Robert Hichens <br /> <br /> + </h2> + <h3> + Frederick A. Stokes Company Publishers + </h3> + <h4> + Copyright, 1905 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + On a windy night of Spring I sat by a great fire that had been built by + Moors on a plain of Morocco under the shadow of a white city, and talked + with a fellow-countryman, stranger to me till that day. We had met in the + morning in a filthy alley of the town, and had forgathered. He was a + wanderer for pleasure like myself, and, learning that he was staying in a + dreary hostelry haunted by fever, I invited him to dine in my camp, and to + pass the night in one of the small peaked tents that served me and my + Moorish attendants as home. He consented gladly. Dinner was over—no + bad one, for Moors can cook, can even make delicious caramel pudding in + desert places—and Mohammed, my stalwart <i>valet de chambre</i>, had + given us most excellent coffee. Now we smoked by the great fire, looked up + at the marvellously bright stars, and told, as is the way of travellers, + tales of our wanderings. My companion, whom I took at first to be a rather + ironic, sceptical, and by nature “unimaginative globe-trotter—he was + a hard-looking, iron-grey man of middle-age—related the usual tiger + story, the time-honoured elephant anecdote, and a couple of snake yarns of + no special value, and I was beginning to fear that I should get little + entertainment from so prosaic a sportsman, when I chanced to mention the + desert. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said my guest, taking his pipe from his mouth, “the desert is the + strangest thing in nature, as woman is the strangest thing in human + nature. And when you get them together—desert and woman—by + Jove!” + </p> + <p> + He paused, then he shot a keen glance at me. + </p> + <p> + “Ever been in the Sahara?” he said. + </p> + <p> + I replied in the affirmative, but added that I had as yet only seen the + fringe of it. + </p> + <p> + “Biskra, I suppose,” he rejoined, “and the nearest oasis, Sidi-Okba, and + so on?” + </p> + <p> + I nodded. I saw I was in for another tale, and anticipated some history of + shooting exploits under the salt mountain of El Outaya. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he continued, “I know the Sahara pretty fairly, and about the + oddest thing I ever could believe in I heard of and believed in there.” + </p> + <p> + “Something about gazelle?” I queried. + </p> + <p> + “Gazelle? No—a woman!” he replied.. + </p> + <p> + As he spoke a Moor glided out of the windy darkness, and threw an armful + of dry reeds on the fire. The flames flared up vehemently, and I saw that + the face of my companion had changed. The hardness of it was smoothed + away. Some memory, that held its romance, sat with him. + </p> + <p> + “A woman,” he repeated, knocking the ashes out of his pipe almost + sentimentally—“more than that, a French woman of Paris, with the + nameless charm, the <i>chic</i>, the—— But I’ll tell you. Some + years ago three Parisians—a man, his wife, and her unmarried sister, + a girl of eighteen, with an angel and a devil in her dark beauty—came + to a great resolve. They decided that they were tired of the Français, + sick of the Bois, bored to death with the boulevards, that they wanted to + see for themselves the famous French colonies which were for ever being + talked about in the Chamber. They determined to travel. No sooner was the + determination come to than they were off. Hôtel des Colonies, Marseilles; + steamboat, <i>Le Général Chanzy</i>; five o’clock on a splendid, sunny + afternoon—Algiers, with its terraces, its white villas, its palms, + trees, and its Spahis!” + </p> + <p> + “But——” I began. + </p> + <p> + He foresaw my objection. + </p> + <p> + “There were Spahis, and that’s a point of my story. Some fête was on in + the town while our Parisians were there. All the African troops were out—Zouaves, + chasseurs, tirailleurs. The Governor went in procession to perform some + ceremony, and in front of his carriage rode sixteen Spahis—probably + got in from that desert camp of theirs near El Outaya. All this was long + before the Tsar visited Paris, and our Parisians had never before seen the + dashing Spahis, had only heard of them, of their magnificent horses, their + turbans and flowing Arab robes, their gorgeous figures, lustrous eyes, and + diabolic horsemanship. You know how they ride? No cavalry to touch them—not + even the Cossacks! Well, our French friends were struck. The unmarried + sister, more especially, was <i>bouleversée</i> by these glorious demons. + As they caracoled beneath the balcony on which she was leaning she clapped + her little hands, in their white kid gloves, and threw down a shower of + roses. The falling flowers frightened the horses. They pranced, bucked, + reared. One Spahi—a great fellow, eyes like a desert eagle, grand + aquiline profile—on whom three roses had dropped, looked up, saw + mademoiselle—call her Valérie—gazing down with her great, + bright eyes—they were deuced fine eyes, by Jove!——” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve seen her?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “—and flashed a smile at her with his white teeth. It was his last + day in the service. He was in grand spirits. ‘Mem Dieu! Mais quelles + dents!’ she sang out. Her people laughed at her. The Spahi looked at her + again— not smiling. She shrank back on the balcony. Then his place + was taken by the Governor—small imperial, <i>chapeau de forme</i>, + evening dress, landau and pair. Mademoiselle was <i>désolée</i>. Why + couldn’t civilised men look like Spahis? Why were all Parisians + commonplace? Why—why? Her sister and brother-in-law called her the + savage worshipper, and took her down to the café on the terrace to dine. + And all through dinner mademoiselle talked of the <i>beaux</i> Spahis—in + the plural, with a secret reservation in her heart. After Algiers our + Parisians went by way of Constantine to Biskra. Now they saw desert for + the first time—the curious iron-grey, velvety-brown, and rose-pink + mountains; the nomadic Arabs camping in their earth-coloured tents patched + with rags; the camels against the skyline; the everlasting sands, broken + here and there by the deep green shadows of distant oases, where the + close-growing palms, seen from far off, give to the desert almost the + effect that clouds give to Cornish waters. At Biskra mademoiselle—oh! + what she must have looked like under the mimosa-trees before the Hôtel de + l’Oasis!———” + </p> + <p> + “Then you’ve seen her,” I began. + </p> + <p> + “—mademoiselle became enthusiastic again, and, almost before they + knew it, her sister and brother-in-law were committed to a desert + expedition, were fitted out with a dragoman, tents, mules—the whole + show, in fact—and one blazing hot day found themselves out in that + sunshine—you know it—with Biskra a green shadow on that sea, + the mountains behind the sulphur springs turning from bronze to + black-brown in the distance, and the table flatness of the desert + stretching ahead of them to the limits of the world and the judgment day.” + </p> + <p> + My companion paused, took a flaming reed from the fire, put it to his pipe + bowl, pulled hard at his pipe—all the time staring straight before + him, as if, among the glowing logs, he saw the caravan of the Parisians + winding onward across the desert sands. Then he turned to me, sighed, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “You’ve seen mirage?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed that in mirage the things one fancies one sees generally + appear in large numbers—buildings crowded as in towns, trees growing + together as in woods, men shoulder to shoulder in large companies?” + </p> + <p> + My experience of mirage in the desert was so, and I acknowledged it. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever seen in a mirage a solitary figure?” he continued. + </p> + <p> + I thought for a moment. Then I replied in the negative. + </p> + <p> + “No more have I,” he said. “And I believe it’s a very rare occurrence. Now + mark the mirage that showed itself to mademoiselle on the first day of the + desert journey of the Parisians. She saw it on the northern verge of the + oasis of Sidi-Okba, late in the afternoon. As they journeyed Tahar, their + dragoman—he had applied for the post, and got it by the desire of + mademoiselle, who admired his lithe bearing and gorgeous aplomb—Tahar + suddenly pulled up his mule, pointed with his brown hand to the horizon, + and said in French: + </p> + <p> + “‘There is mirage! Look! There is the mirage of the great desert!’ + </p> + <p> + “Our Parisians, filled with excitement, gazed above the pointed ears of + their beasts, over the shimmering waste. There, beyond the palms of the + oasis, wrapped in a mysterious haze, lay the mirage. They looked at it in + silence. Then Mademoiselle cried, in her little bird’s clear voice: + </p> + <p> + “‘Mirage! But surely he’s real?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What does mademoiselle see?’ asked Tahar quickly. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, a sort of faint landscape, through which a man—an Arab, I + suppose—is riding, towards Sidi—what is it?—Sidi-Okba! + He’s got something in front of him, hanging across his saddle.’ + </p> + <p> + “Her relations looked at her in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “‘I only see houses standing on the edge of water,’ said her sister. + </p> + <p> + “‘And I!’ cried the husband. + </p> + <p> + “‘Houses and water,’ assented Tahar. ‘It is always so in the mirage of + Sidi-Okba.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I see no houses, no water,’ cried mademoiselle, straining her eyes. ‘The + Arab rides fast, like the wind. He is in a hurry. One would think he was + being pursued. Why, now he’s gone!’ + </p> + <p> + “She turned to her companions. They saw still the fairy houses of the + mirage standing in the haze on the edge of the fairy water. + </p> + <p> + “‘But,’ mademoiselle said impatiently, ‘there’s nothing at all now—only + sand.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle dreams,’ said Tahar. ‘The mirage is always there.’ + </p> + <p> + “They rode forward. That night they camped near Sidi-Okba. At dinner, + while the stars came out, they talked of the mirage, and mademoiselle + still insisted that it was a mirage of a horseman bearing something before + him on his saddle-bow, and riding as if for life. And Tahar said again: + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle dreams!’ + </p> + <p> + “As he spoke he looked at her with a mysterious intentness, which she + noticed. That night, in her little camp-bed, round which the desert winds + blew mildly, she did indeed dream. And her dream was of the magic forms + that ride on magic horses through mirage. + </p> + <p> + “The next day, at dawn, the caravan of the Parisians went on its way, + winding farther into the desert. In leaving Sidi-Okba they left behind + them the last traces of civilisation—the French man and woman who + keep the auberge in the orange garden there. To-day, as they journeyed, a + sense of deep mystery flowed upon the heart of mademoiselle. She felt that + she was a little cockle-shell of a boat which, accustomed hitherto only to + the Seine, now set sail upon a mighty ocean. The fear of the Sahara came + upon her.” + </p> + <p> + My companion paused. His face was grave, almost stern. + </p> + <p> + “And her relations?” I asked. “Did they feel——” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t an idea what they felt,” he answered curtly. + </p> + <p> + “But how do you know that mademoiselle + </p> + <p> + “You’ll understand at the end of the story. As they journeyed in the sun + across the endless flats—for the mountains had vanished now, and + nothing broke the level of the sand—mademoiselle’s gaiety went from + her. Silent was the lively, chattering tongue that knew the jargon of + cities, the gossip of the Plage. She was oppressed. Tahar rode close at + her side. He seemed to have taken her under his special protection. Far + before them rode the attendants, chanting deep love songs in the sun. The + sound of those songs seemed like the sound of the great desert singing of + its wild and savage love to the heart of mademoiselle. At first her + brother-in-law and sister bantered her on her silence, but Tahar stopped + them, with a curious authority. + </p> + <p> + “‘The desert speaks to mademoiselle,’ he said in her hearing. ‘Let her + listen.’ + </p> + <p> + “He watched her continually with his huge eyes, and she did not mind his + glance, though she began to feel irritated and restless under the + observation of her relations. + </p> + <p> + “Towards noon Tahar again described mirage. As he pointed it out he stared + fixedly at mademoiselle. + </p> + <p> + “The two other Parisians exclaimed that they saw forest trees, a running + stream, a veritable oasis, where they longed to rest and eat their <i>déjeuner</i>. + </p> + <p> + “‘And mademoiselle?’ said Tahar. ‘What does she see?’ + </p> + <p> + “She was gazing into the distance. Her face was very pale, and for a + moment she did not answer. Then she said: + </p> + <p> + “‘I see again the Arab bearing the burden before him on the saddle. He is + much clearer than yesterday. I can almost see his face——’ + </p> + <p> + “She paused. She was trembling. + </p> + <p> + “‘But I cannot see what he carries. It seems to float on the wind, like a + robe, or a woman’s dress. Ah! <i>mon Dieu!</i> how fast he rides!’ + </p> + <p> + “She stared before her as if fascinated, and following with her eyes some + rapidly-moving object. Suddenly she shut her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “‘He’s gone!’ she said. + </p> + <p> + “‘And now—mademoiselle sees?’ said Tahar. + </p> + <p> + “She opened her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “‘Nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yet the mirage is still there,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “‘Valérie,’ cried her sister, ‘are you mad that you see what no one else + can see, and cannot see what all else see?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Am I mad, Tahar?’ she said gravely, almost timidly, to the dragoman. + </p> + <p> + “And the fear of the Sahara came again upon her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle sees what she must,’ he answered. ‘The desert speaks to the + heart of mademoiselle.’ + </p> + <p> + “That night there was moon. Mademoiselle could not sleep. She lay in her + narrow bed and thought of the figure in the mirage, while the moonbeams + stole in between the tent pegs to keep her company. She thought of second + sight, of phantoms, and of wraiths. Was this riding Arab, whom she alone + could see, a phantom of the Sahara, mysteriously accompanying the caravan, + and revealing himself to her through the medium of the mirage as if in a + magic mirror? She turned restlessly upon her pillow, saw the naughty + moonbeams, got up, and went softly to the tent door. All the desert was + bathed in light. She gazed out as a mariner gazes out over the sea. She + heard jackals yelping in the distance, peevish in their insomnia, and + fancied their voices were the voices of desert demons. As she stood there + she thought of the figure in the mirage, and wondered if mirage ever rises + at night—if, by chance, she might see it now. And, while she stood + wondering, far away across the sand there floated up a silvery haze, like + a veil of spangled tissue—exquisite for a ball robe, she said long + after!—and in this haze she saw again the phantom Arab galloping + upon his horse. But now he was clear in the moon. Furiously he rode, like + a thing demented in a dream, and as he rode he looked back over his + shoulder, as if he feared pursuit. Mademoiselle could see his fierce eyes, + like the eyes of a desert eagle that stares unwinking at the glaring + African sun. He urged on his fleet horse. She could hear now the ceaseless + thud of its hoofs upon the hard sand as it drew nearer and nearer. She + could see the white foam upon its steaming flanks, and now at last she + knew that the burden which the Arab bore across his saddle and supported + with his arms was a woman. Her robe flew out upon the wind; her dark, + loose hair streamed over the breast of the horseman; her face was hidden + against his heart; but mademoiselle saw his face, uttered a cry, and + shrank back against the canvas of the tent. + </p> + <p> + “For it was the face of the Spahi who had ridden in the procession of the + Governor—of the Spahi to whom she had thrown the roses from the + balcony of Algiers. + </p> + <p> + “As she cried out the mirage faded, the Arab vanished, the thud of the + horse’s hoofs died in her ears, and Tahar, the dragoman, glided round the + tent, and stood before her. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight like ebon + jewels. + </p> + <p> + “‘Hush!’ he whispered, ‘mademoiselle sees the mirage?’ + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle could not speak. She stared into the eyes of Tahar, and hers + were dilated with wonder. + </p> + <p> + “He drew nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle has seen again the horseman and his burden.’ + </p> + <p> + “She bowed her head. All things seemed dream-like to her. Tahar’s voice + was low and monotonous, and sounded far away. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is fate,’ he said. He paused, gazing upon her. + </p> + <p> + “‘In the tents they all sleep,’ he murmured. ‘Even the watchman sleeps, + for I have given him a powder of hashish, and hashish gives long dreams—long + dreams.’ + </p> + <p> + “From beneath his robe he drew a small box, opened it, and showed to + mademoiselle a dark brown powder, which he shook into a tiny cup of water. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle shall drink, as the watchman has drunk,’ he said—‘shall + drink and dream.’ + </p> + <p> + “He held the cup to her lips, and she, fascinated by his eyes, as by the + eyes of a mesmerist, could not disobey him. She swallowed the hashish, + swayed, and fell forward into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “A moment later, across the spaces of the desert, whitened by the moon, + rode the figure mademoiselle had seen in the mirage. Upon his saddle he + bore a dreaming woman. And in the ears of the woman through all the night + beat the thunderous music of a horse’s hoofs spurning the desert sand. + Mademoiselle had taken her place in the vision which she no longer saw.” + </p> + <p> + My companion paused. His pipe had gone out. He did not relight it, but sat + looking at me in silence. + </p> + <p> + “The Spahi?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Had claimed the giver of the roses.” + </p> + <p> + “And Tahar?” + </p> + <p> + “The shots he fired after the Spahi missed fire. Yet Tahar was a notable + shot.” + </p> + <p> + “A strange tale,” I said. “How did you come to hear it?” + </p> + <p> + “A year ago I penetrated very far into the Sahara on a sporting + expedition. One day I came upon an encampment of nomads. The story was + told me by one of them as we sat in the low doorway of an earth-coloured + tent and watched the sun go down.” + </p> + <p> + “Told you by an Arab?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “By whom, then?” + </p> + <p> + “By a woman with a clear little bird’s voice, with an angel and a devil in + her dark beauty, a woman with the gesture of Paris—the grace, the <i>diablerie</i> + of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + Light broke on me. + </p> + <p> + “By mademoiselle!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon,” he answered; “by madame.” + </p> + <p> + “She was married?” + </p> + <p> + “To the figure in the mirage; and she was content.” + </p> + <p> + “Content!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Content with her two little dark children dancing before her in the + twilight, content when the figure of the mirage galloped at evening across + the plain, shouting an Eastern love song, with a gazelle—instead of + a woman—slung across his saddle-bow. Did I not say that, as the + desert is the strangest thing in nature, so a woman is the strangest thing + in human nature? Which heart is most mysterious?” + </p> + <p> + “Its heart?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Or the heart of mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + “I give the palm to the latter.” + </p> + <p> + “And I,” he answered, taking off his wide-brimmed hat—“I gave it + when I saluted her as madame before the tent door, out there in the great + desert.” + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Figure In The Mirage, by Robert Hichens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIGURE IN THE MIRAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 23412-h.htm or 23412-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/4/1/23412/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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