nding forward and staring intently at a woman
who was in the act of stepping down from a raised platform decorated
with lamps and small bunches of flowers in earthen pots.

"I wish to sit quite near the door," she whispered to Batouch as they
went in.

"But it is much better--"

"Do what I tell you," she said. "The left side of the room."

Hadj looked a little happier. Suzanne was clinging to his arm. He smiled
at her with something of mischief, but he took care, when a place was
cleared on a bench for their party, to sit down at the end next the
door, and he cast an anxious glance towards the platform where the
dancing-girls attached to the cafe sat in a row, hunched up against the
bare wall, waiting their turn to perform. Then suddenly he shook his
head, tucked in his chin and laughed. His whole face was transformed
from craven fear to vivacious rascality. While he laughed he looked at
Batouch, who was ordering four cups of coffee from the negro attendant.
The poet took no notice. For the moment he was intent upon his
professional duties. But when the coffee was brought, and set upon a
round wooden stool between two bunches of roses, he had time to note
Hadj's sudden gaiety and to realise its meaning. Instantly he spoke to
the negro in a low voice. Hadj stopped laughing. The negro sped away
and returned with the proprietor of the cafe, a stout Kabyle with a fair
skin and blue eyes.

Batouch lowered his voice to a guttural whisper and spoke in Arabic,
while Hadj, shifting uneasily on the end seat, glanced at him sideways
out of his almond-shaped eyes. Domini heard the name "Irena," and
guessed that Batouch was asking the Kabyle to send for her and make her
dance. She could not help being amused for a moment by the comedy of
intrigue, complacently malignant on both sides, that was being played by
the two cousins, but the moment passed and left her engrossed, absorbed,
and not merely by the novelty of the surroundings, by the strangeness of
the women, of their costumes, and of their movements. She watched them,
but she watched more closely, more eagerly, rather as a spy than as
a spectator, one who was watching them with an intentness, a still
passion, a fierce curiosity and a sort of almost helpless wonder such as
she had never seen before, and could never have found within herself to
put at the service of any human marvel.

Close to the top of the room on the right the stranger was sitting in
the midst of a mob