Part 61 (1/2)

Said Hitani waited for Mrs. s.h.i.+ffney's answer with a slightly judicial air, moving his head as if in approval of the tarah-player's forethought.

”I'm afraid they can't.”

The tarah-player spoke again.

”He says, can they go on donkeys?”

”No. It is further than Paris, tell him.”

”Then they must go on the sea. Paris is across the sea.”

”Yes, they will have to take a steamer.”

At this juncture it was found that the tarah-player would not be of the party.

”He says he would be very sick, and no man can play when he is sick.”

”What will Madame pay?” interposed Said Hitani.

Mrs. s.h.i.+ffney declared seriously that she would think it over, make a calculation, and Amor should convey her decision as to price to him on the morrow.

All seemed well satisfied with this. And the tarah-player remarked, after a slight pause, that he would wait to know about the price before he decided whether he would be too sick to play in London. Then, at a signal from Said Hitani, they all took up their instruments and played and sang a garden song called _Mabouf_, describing how a Sheik and his best loved wife walked in a great garden and sang one against the other.

”It has been quite delicious!” said Mrs. s.h.i.+ffney to Claude, when at last the song _Au Revoir_, tumultuously brilliant with a tremendous crescendo at the close, had been played, and with many salaams and good wishes the musicians had departed.

”I love their playing,” Claude answered. ”But really you shouldn't have paid them. I have arranged with Hitani to come every evening.”

”Oh, but I paid them for wanting to know whether they could go to London on camels. What a success your opera ought to be if you have got a fine libretto.”

They were just leaving the cafe.

”Do let us stand by the wall for a minute,” she added. ”By that tree. It is so wonderful here.”

Claude's guide, Aloui, had come to accompany him home, and was behind with Amor. They stayed in the doorway of the cafe. Mrs. s.h.i.+ffney and Claude leaned on the wall, looking down into the vast void from which rose the cool wind and the sound of water.

”What would I give to be a creative artist!” she said. ”That must add so much meaning to all this. Do you know how fortunate you are? Do you know you possess the earth?”

The sable sleeve of her coat touched Claude's arm and hand. Her deep voice sounded warm and full of genuine feeling. A short time ago, when she had come into the cafe, he had been both astonished and vexed to see her. Now he knew that he had enjoyed this evening more than any other evening that he had spent in Constantine.

”But there are plenty of drawbacks,” he said.

”Oh, no, not real ones! After this evening--well, I shall wish for your success. Till now I didn't care in the least. Indeed, I believe I hoped you never would have a great success.”

She moved slightly nearer to him.

”Did you?” he said.

”Yes. You've always been so horrid to me, when I always wanted to be nice to you.”