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diff --git a/old/23418-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/23418-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcac180 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/23418-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,1284 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Desert Air, by Robert Hichens + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Desert Air, 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: Desert Air + 1905 + +Author: Robert Hichens + +Release Date: November 8, 2007 [EBook #23418] +Last Updated: December 17, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DESERT AIR *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + DESERT AIR + </h1> + <h2> + By Robert Hichens + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Frederick A. Stokes Company Publishers + </h3> + <h4> + Copyright, 1905 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + On an evening of last summer I was dining in London at the Carlton with + two men. One of them was an excellent type of young England, strong, + healthy, athletic, and straightforward. The other was a clever London + doctor who was building up a great practice in the West End. At dessert + the conversation turned upon a then recent tragedy in which a great + reputation had gone down, and young England spoke rather contemptuously of + the victim, with the superior surprise human beings generally express + about the sin which does not happen to be theirs. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t understand it!” was his conclusion. “It’s beyond me.” + </p> + <p> + “Climate,” said the doctor quietly. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Climate. Air.” + </p> + <p> + Young England looked inexpressively astonished. + </p> + <p> + “But hang it all!” he exclaimed, “you don’t mean to say change of air + means change of nature?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to everyone. Not to you, perhaps. Have you travelled much?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ve been to Paris for the Grand Prix, and to Monte——” + </p> + <p> + “For the gambling. That’s hardly travelling. Now, I’ve studied this + subject a little, quietly in Harley Street. I’m no traveller myself, but I + have dozens of patients who are. And I’m convinced that the modern + facilities for travel, besides giving an infinity of pleasure, bring about + innumerable tragedies.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to me. + </p> + <p> + “You go abroad a great deal. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “That you’re perfectly right. And I’m prepared to affirm that, in + highly-strung, imaginative, or over-worked people change of climate does + sometimes actually cause, or seem to cause, change of nature.” + </p> + <p> + Young England, who was by no means highly-strung or imaginative, looked + politely dubious, but the doctor was evidently pleased. + </p> + <p> + “An ally!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + He glanced at me for an instant, then added: + </p> + <p> + “You’ve got a case that proves it, at any rate to you, in your mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you give it us?” + </p> + <p> + “Jove! let’s have it!” exclaimed young England. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, if you like,” I said. “I don’t know whether you ever heard of + the Marnier affair?” + </p> + <p> + Young England shook his head, but the doctor replied at once. + </p> + <p> + “Three years ago, wasn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Four.” + </p> + <p> + “And it happened in some remote place in the Sahara Desert?” + </p> + <p> + “In Beni-Kouidar. I was with Henry Marnier in Beni-Kouidar at the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead!” said young England more eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Marnier was not an old friend of mine, but an acquaintance whom I + had met casually at Beni-Mora, which is known as a health resort.” + </p> + <p> + “I send patients there sometimes,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “The railway stops at Beni-Mora. To reach Beni-Kouidar one must go on + horse or camel back over between three and four hundred kilometres of + desert, sleeping on the way at Travellers’ Houses—Bordjs as they are + called there. Beni-Kouidar lies in the midst of immeasurable sands, and + the air that blows through its palm gardens, and round its mosque towers, + and down its alleys under the arcades, is startling: dry as the finest + champagne, almost fiercely pure and fresh, exhilarating—well, too + exhilarating for certain people.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Champagne goes very quickly to some heads,” he interjected. + </p> + <p> + “Beni-Kouidar has nothing to say to modern civilisation. It is a wild and + turbulent city, divided into quarters—the Arab quarter, the Jews’ + quarter, the freed negroes’ quarter, and so on—and furthermore, is + infested at certain seasons by the Sahara nomads, who camp in filthy tents + on the huge sand dunes round about, and sell rugs, burnouses, and Touareg + work to the inhabitants, buying in return the dates for which the palms of + Beni-Kouidar are celebrated. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to see a real Sahara city to which the Cook’s tourist had not as + yet penetrated, and I resolved to ride there from Beni-Mora. When Henry + Marnier heard of it he asked if he might accompany me. + </p> + <p> + “Marnier was a young man who had recently left Oxford, and who had come + out to Beni-Mora only a week before to see his mother, who was going + through the sulphur cure. He was what is generally called a + ‘serious-minded young man’; intellectual, inclined to grave reading and + high thinking, totally devoid of frivolity, a little cold in manner and + temperament, one would have sworn; in fact, a type of a very well-known + kind of Oxford undergraduate, the kind that takes a good tutorship for a + year or so after leaving the University, and then becomes a schoolmaster + or a clergyman. Marnier, by the way, intended to take orders. + </p> + <p> + “Now, this sort of young man is not precisely my sort, and especially not + my sort in the Sahara Desert. But I did not want to be rude to Marnier, + who was friendly and agreeable, and obviously anxious to increase his + already considerable store of knowledge. So I put my inclinations in my + pocket, and, with inward reluctance, I agreed. + </p> + <p> + “We set off with Safti, my faithful one-eyed Arab guide, and after three + long days of riding and talking—as I had feared—Maeterlink and + Tolstoy, Henley and Verlaine (this last being utterly condemned by Marnier + as a man of weak character and degraded life) we saw the towers of + Beni-Kouidar aspiring above the shifting sands, the tufted summits of the + thousands of palm-trees, and heard the dull beating of drums and the cries + of people borne to us over the spaces of which silence is the steady + guardian. + </p> + <p> + “We were all pretty tired, but Marnier was, especially done up. He had + recently been working very hard for the ‘first’ with which he had left + Oxford, and was not in good condition. We were, therefore, glad enough + when we rode through the wide street thronged with natives, turned the + corner into the great camel market, and finally dismounted before the door + of the one inn, the ‘Rendezvous des Amis,’ a mean, dusty, one-storey + building, on whose dirty white wall was a crude painting of a preposterous + harridan in a purple empire gown, pouring wine for a Zouave who was + evidently afflicted with elephantiasis. Yet, tired as I was, I stepped out + into the camel market for a moment before going into the house, emptied my + lungs, and slowly filled them. + </p> + <p> + “‘What air!’ I said to Marnier, who had followed me. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is extraordinary,’ he answered in his rather dry tenor voice. ‘I + should say like the best champagne, if I did not happen to be a + teetotaller.’ + </p> + <p> + “(The market, I must explain, was not at that moment in active operation.) + </p> + <p> + “After a <i>bain de siege</i>—we both longed for total immersion—and + some weak tea, in which I mingled a spoonful of rum, we felt better, but + we reposed till dinner, and once again Marnier, in his habitually + restrained and critical manner, discussed contemporary literature, and + what Plato and Aristotle, judging by; their writings, would have been + likely to think of it. And once again I felt as if I were in the ‘High’ at + Oxford, and was almost inclined to wish that Marnier was the rowdy type of + undergrad, who ducks people in water troughs and makes bonfires in quads.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” said the doctor gravely. “Better, perhaps, if he had been.” + </p> + <p> + “Much better,” I answered. “At seven o’clock we ate a rather tough dinner + in the small, bare <i>salle-à-manger</i>, on the red brick floor of which + sand grains were lying. Our only companion was a bearded priest in a dirty + soutane, the aumônier of Beni-Kouidar, who sat at a little table apart, + and greeted our entrance with a polite bow, but did not then speak to us. + </p> + <p> + “When the meal was ended, however, he joined us as we stood at the inn + door looking out into the night. A moon was rising above the palms, and + gilding the cupolas of the Bureau Arabe on the far side of the Market + Square. A distant noise of tomtoms and African pipes was audible. And all + down the hill to our left—for the land rose to where the inn stood—fires + gleamed, and we could see half-naked figures passing and repassing them, + and others squatting beside, looking like monks in their hooped burnouses. + </p> + <p> + “‘You are going out, messieurs?’ said the aumônier politely. + </p> + <p> + “I looked at Marnier. + </p> + <p> + “‘You’re too done up, I expect?’ I said to him. + </p> + <p> + “His face was pale, and he certainly had the demeanour of a tired man. + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ he answered. ‘I should like to stroll in this wonderful air.’ + </p> + <p> + “I turned to the priest. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, monsieur,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘I come here to take my meals, but I live at the edge of the town. + Perhaps you will permit me to accompany you for a little way.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘We shall be delighted, and we know nothing of Beni-Kouidar.’ + </p> + <p> + “As we stepped out into the market Marnier paused to light his pipe. But + suddenly he threw away the match he had struck. + </p> + <p> + “‘No, it’s a sin to smoke in this air,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “And he drew a deep breath, looking at the round moon. + </p> + <p> + “The priest smiled. + </p> + <p> + “‘I have lived here for four years,’ he said, ‘and cannot resist my cigar. + But you are right. The air of Beni-Kouidar is extraordinary. When first I + came here it used to mount to my head like wine.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Bad for you, Marnier!’ I said, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Then I added, to the aumônier: + </p> + <p> + “‘My friend never drinks wine, and so ought to be peculiarly susceptible + to such an influence.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + “Opposite to the aumonier’s dwelling was the great dancing-house of the + town, and when we had bade him good-night, and turned to go back to the + inn, I rather tentatively suggested to Marnier that, perhaps, it would be + interesting to look in there for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “‘All right,’ he responded, with his most donnish manner. ‘But I expect it + will be rather an unwashed crowd.’ + </p> + <p> + “A quantity of native soldiers—the sort that used to be called + Turcos—were gathered round the door. We pushed our way through them, + and entered. The café was large, with big white pillars and a double row + of divans in the middle, and divans rising in tiers all round. On the left + was a large doorway, in which gorgeously-dressed painted women, with gold + crowns on their heads, were standing, smoking cigarettes, and laughing + with the Arabs; and at the end farthest from the street entrance was a + raised platform, on which sat three musicians—a wild-looking demon + of a man blowing into an instrument with an immense funnel, and two men + beating tomtoms. The noise they made was terrific. The piper wore a + voluminous burnouse, and as the dancers came in in pairs from the big + doorway, which led into the court where they all live together, each in + her separate little room with her own front door, they threw their door + keys into the hood that was attached to it. As soon as they had finished + dancing they went to the hood, and rummaged violently for them again. And + all the time the piper blew frantically into his instrument, and rocked + himself about like a man in a convulsion. + </p> + <p> + “We sat on one of the raised divans, with coffee before us on a wooden + stool, and Marnier observed it all with a slightly supercilious coldness. + The women, who were dressed in different shades of red, and were the most + amazing trollops I ever set eyes on, came and went in pairs, fluttered + their painted fingers, twittered like startled birds, jumped and twirled, + wriggled and revolved, and inclined their greasy foreheads to the + impenetrable spectators, who stuck silver coins on to the perspiring + flesh. And Marnier sat and gazed at them with the aloofness of one who + watches the creatures in puddle water through a microscope. I could + scarcely help laughing at him, but I wished him away. For to me there was + excitement, there was even a sort of ecstasy, in the utter barbarity of + this spectacle, in the moving scarlet figures with their golden crowns and + tufts of ostrich plumes, in the serried masses of turbaned and hooded + spectators, in the rocking forms of the musicians, in the strident and + ceaseless uproar that they made. + </p> + <p> + “And through the doorway where the Tur-cos—I like the old name—crowded + I saw the sand filtering in from the desert, and against the black leaves + of a solitary palm-tree, with leaves like giant Fatma hands, I saw the + silver disc of the moon. + </p> + <p> + “‘I vote we go,’ said Marnier’s light tenor voice in my ear. ‘The + atmosphere’s awful in here.’ “‘Very well,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “I got up; but just then a girl, dressed in midnight purple embroidered + with silver, came in from the doorway, and began to dance alone. She was + very young—fourteen, I found out afterwards—and, in contrast + to the other women, extremely beautiful. There were grace, seduction, + mystery, and coquetry in her face and in all her movements. Her long black + eyes held fire and dreams. Her fluttering hands seemed beckoning us to the + realms of the thousand and one nights. I stood where I had got up, and + watched her. + </p> + <p> + “‘I say, aren’t we going?’ said Marnier’s voice in my ear. + </p> + <p> + “I cursed the day when I had agreed to take him with me, leaped down to + the earth, and struggled towards the door. As we neared it the girl sidled + down the room till she was exactly in front of Marnier. Then she danced + before him, smiling with her immense eyes, which she fixed steadily upon + him, and bending forward her pretty head, covered with a cloth of silver + handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “‘Give her something,’ I said to him, laughing, as he stared back at her + grimly. + </p> + <p> + “He thrust his hand into his pocket, found a franc, stuck it awkwardly + against her oval forehead, and followed me out. + </p> + <p> + “When we were in the sandy street he walked a few steps in silence, then + stood still, and, to my surprise, stared back at the dancing-house. Then + he put his hand to his head. + </p> + <p> + “‘Is the air having its alcoholic effect?’ I asked in joke. + </p> + <p> + “As I spoke a handsome Arab, splendidly dressed in a pale blue robe, red + gaiters and boots, and a turban of fine muslin, spangled with gold, passed + us slowly, going towards the dancing-house. He cast a glance full of + suspicion and malice at Marnier. + </p> + <p> + “‘What’s up with that fellow?’ I said, startled. + </p> + <p> + “The Arab went on, and at that moment the faithful Safti joined us. He + never left me long out of his sight in these outlandish places. + </p> + <p> + “‘That is the Batouch Sidi, the brother of the Caïd of Beni-Kouidar,’ he + said. ‘Algia, the dancer to whom Monsieur Henri has just given money, is + his <i>chère amie</i>. But as the government has just made him a sheik, he + dares not have her in his house for fear of the scandal. So he has put her + with the dancers. That is why she dances, to deceive everyone, not to make + money. She is not as the other dancers. But everyone knows, for Batouch is + mad with jealousy. He cannot bear that Algia should dance before + strangers, but what can he do? A sheik must not have a scandal in his + dwelling.’ + </p> + <p> + “We walked on slowly. When we got to the door of the ‘Rendezvous des Amis’ + Marnier stood still again, and looked down the deserted, moonlit camel + market. + </p> + <p> + “‘I never knew air like this,’ he said in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “And once more he expelled the air from his lungs, and drew in a long, + slow breath, as a man does when he has finished his dumbbell exercise in + the morning. + </p> + <p> + “‘Don’t drink too much of it,’ I said. ‘Remember what the aumônier told + us!’ + </p> + <p> + “Marnier looked at me. I thought there was something apprehensive in his + eyes. But he said nothing, and we turned in. + </p> + <p> + “The next day I rode out with Safti into the desert to visit a sacred + personage of great note in the Sahara, Sidi El Ahmed Ben Daoud + Abderahmann. To my relief Marnier declined to come. He said he was tired, + and would stroll about the city. When we got back at sundown the innkeeper + handed me a note. I opened it, and found it was from the aumônier, saying + that he would be greatly obliged if I would call and see him on my return, + as he had various little curiosities which he would be glad to show me. + Marnier was not in the inn, and, as I had nothing particular to do, I + walked at once to the aumonier’s house. As I have said, it was the last in + the town. The dancing-house was on the opposite side of the way; but the + aumonier’s dwelling jutted out a little farther into the desert, and + looked full on a deep depression of soft sand bounded by a big dune, which + loomed up like a couchant beast in the fading yellow light. + </p> + <p> + “The aumônier met me at his door, and escorted me into a pleasant room, + where his collection of Arab weapons, coins, and old vases, cups, and + various utensils, dug up, he told me, at Tlemcen, was arranged. But to my + surprise he scarcely took time to show it to me before he said: + </p> + <p> + “‘Though a stranger, may I venture to speak rather intimately to you, + monsieur?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Certainly,’ I replied, in some astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “‘Your friend is young.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Marnier?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Is that his name? Well, I would not leave him to stroll about too much + alone, if I were you.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, monsieur?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He is likely to get into trouble. The people here are a wild and violent + race. He would do well to bear in mind the saying of a traveller who knew + the desert men better than most people: + </p> + <p> + “If you want to be friendly with them, and safe among them, give + cigarettes to the men, and leave the women alone. + </p> + <p> + “‘I see a good deal, monsieur, owing to the situation of my little house.’ + </p> + <p> + “I looked at him in silence. Then I said: + </p> + <p> + “‘What have you seen?’ + </p> + <p> + “He led me to the door, and pointed towards the great dune beyond the + dancing-house. + </p> + <p> + “I saw your friend this afternoon talking there with one whom it is + especially unsafe to be seen with in Beni-Koujtlar.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘With whom?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘A dancer called Àlgia.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Talking, monsieur! Marnier knows no Arabic.’ + </p> + <p> + “The aumônier pursed his lips in his black beard. + </p> + <p> + “‘The conversation appeared to be carried on by signs,’ he responded. + ‘That did not make it less but more dangerous.’ + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I was rude, and whistled softly. + </p> + <p> + “‘Monsieur l’Aumônier,’ I said, ‘you must forgive me, but this air is + certainly the very devil.’ + </p> + <p> + “He smiled, not without irony. + </p> + <p> + “‘I became aware of that myself, monsieur, when first I came to live in + Beni-Kouidar. But I am a priest, and—well, monsieur, I was given the + strength to say: “Get thee behind me, Satan.”’ + </p> + <p> + “A softer look came into his sunburnt, wrinkled face. + </p> + <p> + “‘Better take your friend away as soon as possible,’ he added, ‘or there + will be trouble.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + “That night I found myself confronted by a Marnier whom I had never seen + before. The desert wine had gone to the lad’s brain. That was certain. No + intonations of the Oxford don lurked in the voice. No reminiscences of the + Oxford ‘High’ clung about the manner. A man sober and the same man drunk + are scarcely more different than the Marnier who had ridden with me up the + sandy street of Beni-Kouidar the previous day and the man who sat opposite + to me at dinner in the ‘Rendezvous des Amis’ that night. I knew in a + moment that the aumônier was right, and that I must get the lad away at + once from the intoxicant which nature poured out over this far-away city. + His eyes were shining feverishly, and when I mentioned Mr. Ruskin in a + casual way he looked unutterably bored. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ruskin and all those fellows seem awfully slow and out of place here,’ + he exclaimed. ‘One doesn’t want to bother about them in the Sahara.’ + </p> + <p> + “I changed the subject. + </p> + <p> + “‘There doesn’t seem very much to see here,’ I said carelessly. ‘We might + get away the day after to-morrow, don’t you think?’ + </p> + <p> + “He drew his brows down. + </p> + <p> + “‘The horses won’t be sufficiently rested,’ he said curtly. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh yes; I fancy they will.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, I don’t fancy I shall. The long ride took it out of me.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Turn in to-night, then, directly after dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me with sharp suspicion. I met his gaze blandly. + </p> + <p> + “‘I mean to,’ he said after a short pause. + </p> + <p> + “I knew he was telling me a lie, but I only said: ‘That’s right!’ and + resolved to keep an eye on him. + </p> + <p> + “Directly dinner was over he sprang up from the table. + </p> + <p> + “‘Good-night,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + “And before I could reply he was out of the <i>salle-à-manger</i>, and I + heard him tramp along the brick floor of the passage, go into his room, + and bang the door. + </p> + <p> + “The aumônier was getting up from his little table, and shaking the crumbs + from his soutane. + </p> + <p> + “‘You are quite right, monsieur,’ I said to him. ‘I must get my friend + away.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I shall be sorry to lose you,’ replied the good priest. ‘But—desert + air, desert air!’ + </p> + <p> + “He shook his head, half wistfully, half laughingly, bowed, put on his + broad-brimmed black hat, and went out. + </p> + <p> + “After a moment I followed him. I stood in the doorway of the inn, and lit + a cigar. I knew Marnier was not going to bed, and meant to catch him when + he came out, and join him. In common politeness he could scarcely refuse + my company, since he had asked me as a favour to let him come with me to + Beni-Kouidar. I waited, watching the moon rise, till my cigar was smoked + out. Then I lit another. Still he did not come. I heard the distant throb + of tomtoms beyond the Bureau Arabe in the quarter of the freed negroes. + They were having a fantasia. I began to think that I must have been + mistaken, and that Marnier had really turned in. So much the better. The + ash dropped from the stump of my second cigar, and the deserted camel + market was flooded with silver from the moon-rays. I knew there was only + one door to the inn. Slowly I lit a third cigar. + </p> + <p> + “A large cloud went over the face of the moon. A gust of wind struck my + face. Suddenly the night had changed. The moon looked forth again, and was + again obscured. A second gust struck me like a blow, and my face was stung + by a multitude of sand grains. I heard steps behind me in the brick + passage, turned swiftly, and saw the landlord. + </p> + <p> + “‘I must shut the door, m’sieu,’ he said. ‘There’s a bad sandstorm coming + up.’ + </p> + <p> + “As he spoke the wind roared, and over the camel market a thick fog seemed + to fall abruptly. It was a sheet of sand from the surrounding dunes. I + threw away my cigar, stepped into the passage, and the landlord banged the + door, and drove home the heavy bolts. + </p> + <p> + “Then I went to Marnier’s room, and knocked. I felt sure, but I thought I + would make sure before going to my room. + </p> + <p> + “No answer. + </p> + <p> + “I knocked again loudly. + </p> + <p> + “Again no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Then I turned the handle, and entered. + </p> + <p> + “The room was empty. I glanced round quickly. The small window was open. + All the windows of the inn were barred, but, as I learned later, a bar in + Marnier’s had been broken, and was not yet replaced when we arrived at + Beni-Kouidar. In consequence of this it was possible to squeeze through + into the arcade outside. This was what Marnier had done. My precise, + gentlemanly, reserved, and methodical acquaintance had deliberately given + me the slip by sneaking out of a window like a schoolboy, and creeping + round the edge of the inn to the <i>fosse</i> that lay in the shadow of + the sand dimes. As I realised this I realised his danger. + </p> + <p> + “I ran to my room, fetched my revolver, slipped it into my pocket, and + hurried to the front door. The landlord heard me trying to undo the bolts, + and came out protesting. + </p> + <p> + “‘M’sieu cannot go out into the storm.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I must.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But m’sieu does not know what Beni-Kouidar is like when the sand is + blown on the wind. It is <i>enfer</i>. Besides, it is not safe. In the + darkness m’sieu may receive a <i>mauvais coup</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Make haste, please, and open the door. I am going to fetch my friend.’ + </p> + <p> + “He pulled the bolts, grumbling and swearing, and I went out into <i>enfer</i>. + For he was right. A sandstorm at night in Beni-Kouidar is hell. + </p> + <p> + “Luckily, Safti joined me mysteriously from the deuce knows where, and we + staggered to the dancing-house somehow, and struggled in, blinded, our + faces scored, our clothes heavy with sand, our pockets, our very boots, + weighed down with it. + </p> + <p> + “The tomtoms were roaring, the pipe was yelling, blown by the frantic + demon with his hood full of latch keys, the impassible, bearded faces were + watching the painted women who, in their red garments and their golden + crowns, promenaded down the earthen floor, between the divans, fluttering + their dyed fingers, smiling grotesquely like idols, bending forward their + greasy foreheads to receive the tribute of their admirers. + </p> + <p> + “I ran my eyes swiftly over the mob. Marnier was not in it. I pushed my + way towards the doorway on the left which gave on to the court of the + dancers. + </p> + <p> + “Safti caught hold of my arm. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is not safe to go in there on such a night, Sidi. There are no lamps. + It is black as a tomb. And no one can tell who may be there. Nomads, + perhaps, men of evil from the south. Many murders have been done in the + court on black nights, and no one can say who has done them. For all the + time men go in and out to the rooms of the dancers.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Nevertheless, Safti, I must——’ + </p> + <p> + “I stopped speaking, for at this moment Batouch, the brother of the Caïd + of Beni-Kouidar, came slowly in through the doorway from the blackness of + the sand-swept court. There was a strange smile on his handsome face, and + he was caressing his black beard gently with one delicate hand. He saw me, + smiled more till I caught the gleam of his white teeth, passed on into the + dancing-house, sat down on a divan, and called for coffee. I could not + take my eyes from him. Every movement he made fascinated me. He drew from + his pale blue robe a silver box, opened it, lifted out a pinch of tobacco, + and began carefully to roll a cigarette. And all the time he smiled. + </p> + <p> + “A glacial cold crept over my body. As he lit his cigarette I caught hold + of Safti, and hurried through the doorway into the blackness of the + whirling sand.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Here I stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said young England. “Well?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I answered. “Algia danced that night. While she was dancing we + found a dead body in the court. It was Marnier’s. A knife had been thrust + into him from behind!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “But—” exclaimed young England, “it was that fellow? It was + Batouch?” + </p> + <p> + I shrugged my shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody ever found out who did it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but of course——” + </p> + <p> + He checked himself, and an expression of admiration dawned slowly over his + healthy, handsome face. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” he said, “to be able to roll a cigarette directly afterwards! + What infernal cheek!” + </p> + <p> + “Desert air!” I replied. “My dear chap—desert air!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor nodded. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Desert Air, by Robert Hichens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DESERT AIR *** + +***** This file should be named 23418-h.htm or 23418-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/4/1/23418/ + +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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