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.

"'I vote we go,' said Marnier's light tenor voice in my ear. 'The
atmosphere's awful in here.' "'Very well,' I said.

"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.

"'I say, aren't we going?' said Marnier's voice in my ear.

"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.

"'Give her something,' I said to him, laughing, as he stared back at her
grimly.

"He thrust his hand into his pocket, found a franc, stuck it awkwardly
against her oval forehead, and followed me out.

"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.

"'Is the air having its alcoholic effect?' I asked in joke.

"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.

"'What's up with that fellow?' I said, startled.

"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.

"'That is the Batouch Sidi, the brother of the Caid of Beni-Kouidar,' he
said. 'Algia, the dancer to whom Monsieur Henri has just given money,
is his _chere amie_. 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 dan