e stopped and put out her tongue
for me to look at it. It seemed very pink, and I did my utmost to
reassure her, having disturbing visions of her collapsing altogether on
the grass; for if she was to be understood rightly and believed, she had
pains in her body, and breathing seemed an effort.

We were crossing the cemetery now by one of the intricate paths which
intersect it. There seemed not a soul within sight or sound. Every Moor
would be inside his house or hut. I hoped Tahara would pull herself
together and last as far as Miss Z----'s.

She said she was _bueno_, meaning good, better, and spoke again of the
bottle which she was carrying carefully hidden in her waistband. Then, as
far as I could understand, she wished me to know that the poison had
something to do with the signoritas--ourselves--and our food. This was a
most unpleasant reflection: I devoutly hoped that R. would not begin
dinner before I got back, and comforted myself with the assurance that it
was unlikely, there being no one to get it ready. We had no outside man
at that time sleeping in the house.

"S`lam _no_ good; S`lam _no_ good," Tahara kept repeating. And, to tell
the truth, our long-legged ruffian rose before my eyes as no mean
embodiment of a stage villain. The Riffis are notoriously treacherous and
put no value whatever on life; at the same time I knew that they made
good and faithful servants up to a certain point, and I shrank from
distrusting a man who had so far served us well. And yet, how much does
one know of them? Nothing. We had had suspicions that all was not going
smoothly with the two servants: though they had been married so lately
there was friction between them; Tahara had been heard crying at night,
and had looked red-eyed. It was likely, therefore, that there had been a
quarrel.

S`lam's old mother may have made mischief. She was madly jealous of
Tahara, whom S`lam had married without letting her know. He had gone over
to Tangier; had arranged the marriage with Tahara's brother, who was
living at Tangier with her; had brought her off, hardly a happy or
willing bride, for he told us that she cried the whole of the journey;
and had sprung her upon his old mother at Tetuan. In his bachelor days
S`lam's earnings had gone to the old woman. Now they were spent on his
wife and himself. Therefore Maman saw nothing that was good in Tahara,
and would have given much, no doubt, to see the last of her.

Meanwhile, the city gate d