itself slowly from side to side with a
flexibility that was abominable and sickening. The music ceased. There
was a moment's pause. Then, with a fierce movement that seemed
expressive of a jealousy which could no longer be contained, the
darweesh seized the snake about two inches below its head, and tore it
away from Mrs. Armine. The terrible look had returned to his face with
an added fire that beaconed a revengeful intention. Pressing his thumb
hard upon the reptile's back, he seemed to fall into a frenzy. He
several times growled on a deep note, bowed back and forth, tossing his
mane of greasy hair over his face and away from it, depressed his body,
then violently drew it up to its full height, while his bare feet
executed a sort of crude dance. Then, wrought up apparently to a pitch
of fanatical fury, he bent his head, opened his mouth, from which came
beads of foam, and bit off the serpent's head. Casting away its body,
which still seemed writhing with life, he made a sound of munching,
working his jaws extravagantly, shot forth his head towards Mrs. Armine,
gaped to show her his mouth was empty, lifted his bag from the floor and
rushed noiselessly from the room. She stood looking at the headless body
of the reptile which lay on the rug at her feet.

"Take it away!" she said to Baroudi.

He picked it up, went to the window, and threw it out into the
orange-garden. Then he came back and stood beside her.

"Horrible brute!" she said.

She spoke angrily. When the darweesh had attacked the serpent she had
felt herself attacked, and the killing of it had seemed to her an
outrage committed upon herself. Even now that he was gone and the
headless body was flung away, she could not rid herself of this
sensation. She was full of an intimate sense of fury that longed to be
assuaged.

"How could you let the brute do that?" she exclaimed, turning upon
Baroudi. "How could you sit there and allow such a hateful thing?"

"But he came here to do it. He is one of the Saadeeyeh."

"He was going to do it even if I hadn't taken the serpent?"

"Of course."

"I don't believe that. He did it because he was angry with the serpent
for not hurting me, for letting me take it."

"As you please," he said. "What does it matter?"

She glanced at him, and sat down. The expression in his eyes soothed
her, the new look that she could read. Had it been called up by her
courage with the serpent? She wondered if, by her impulsive action,