flute: only
one thing more beautiful--a young girl carrying an amphora I She
passed out of the shadows, wearing a scarlet haik and on her arms and
neck a great deal of rough jewellery.
"She is going to the well," he said. The shepherd stopped playing and
advanced to meet her. Boy and girl stood talking for a little while.
He heard laughter and speech... saw her coming towards him. "She
will follow this path to the house, and I shall see her better." A
little in front of the ilex-trees she stopped to look back upon the
shepherd, leaning the amphora upon her naked hip. The movement
lasted only a moment, but how beautiful it was! On catching sight of
Owen, she passed rapidly up the path, meeting Beclere on his way.
"Speaking to him in Arabic," Owen said, as he continued to admire the
beautiful face he had just seen--a pointed oval, dark eyes, a small,
fine nose, red lips, and a skin the colour of yellow ivory. "Still a
child and already a woman, not more than twelve or thirteen at the
very most; the sun ripens them quickly." This child recalled a dream
which he had let drop in Tunis--a dream that he might go into the
desert and find an Arab maiden the colour of yellow ivory, and live
with her in an oasis, forgetful.... Only by a woman's help could he
ever forget Evelyn. The old bitterness welled up bitter as ever.
"And I thought she was beginning to be forgotten."
In his youth he had wearied of women as a child wearies of toys. Few
women had outlasted the pleasure of a night, all becoming equally
insipid and tedious; but since he had met Evelyn he had loved no
other. Why did he love her? How was it he could not put her out of
his mind? Why couldn't he accept an Arab girl--Beclere's girl? She
was younger and more beautiful. If she did not belong to Beclere--
Owen looked up and watched them, and seeing Beclere glance in the
direction of the shepherd, he added, "Or to the shepherd."
The girl went into the house, and Beclere came down to meet his
guest, apologising for having left him so long alone.... He talked
to him about the beauty of the morning. The rains were over, or
nearly, but very often they began again.
"_Cella se pent qu'elle ne soit qu'une courte embellie, mais
profitons en_," and they turned to admire the roses.
"A beautiful girl, the one you were just speaking to."
"Yes... yes; she is the handsomest in the oasis, and there are many
handsome girls here. The Arab race is beautiful, male and female
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