th two or three red and blue foutahs suspended on ropes
made of twisted alfa, or dried grass. Toward the farther end, a hole in
the floor was the family cooking-place, and behind it an elevation of
beaten earth made a wide shelf for a long row of jars shaped like the
Roman amphorae of two thousand years ago. Pegs driven into one of the
walls were hung with gandourahs and a foutah or two; and of furniture,
worthy of that name in the eyes of Europeans, there was none.

At the bedroom end of the room, several women were gathered round a
central object of interest, and though the light was dim after the vivid
sunshine outside, the visitors guessed that the object of interest was
the bride. Decorously they paused near the door, while a great deal of
arguing went on, in which the shriller voices of women mingled with the
guttural tones of the men. Nevill could catch no word, for they were
talking their own Kabyle tongue which had come down from their
forefathers the Berbers, lords of the land long years before the Arabs
drove them into the high mountains. But at last the group opened, and a
young woman stepped out with half-shy eagerness. She was loaded with
jewels, and her foutah was barbarically splendid in colour, but she was
almost as fair as her father; a slim creature with grey eyes, and brown
curly hair that showed under her orange foulard.

Proud of her French, she began talking in that language, welcoming the
guests, telling them how glad she was to see friends of her dear
Mademoiselle Soubise. But soon she must be gone to her husband's house,
and already the dark young bridegroom, son of the Caid, was growing
impatient. There was no time to be lost, if they were to learn anything
of Ben Halim's wife.

As a preface to what they wished to ask, Nevill made a presentation
speech, placing the velvet watch-case in Mouni's hand, and she opened it
with a kind of moan expressing intense rapture. Never had she seen
anything so beautiful, and she would cheerfully have recalled every
phase of her career from earliest babyhood, if by doing so she could
have pleased the givers.

"But yes," she answered to Nevill's first questions, "the beautiful lady
whom I served was the wife of Sidi Cassim ben Halim. At first it was in
Algiers that I lived with her, but soon we left, and went to the
country, far, oh, very far away, going towards the south. The house was
like a large farmhouse, and to me as a child--for I was but a child--it