“I did not love her; no, one does not love the young women of this primitive continent. Between them and ourselves, even between them and their own menfolk the Arabs, love as we understand it does not exist. They are too primitive, their feelings are insufficiently refined to arouse in our souls that sentimental exaltation which is the poetry of love. There is no mental or moral intoxication blended with the physical intoxication which these charming and worthless creatures stimulate in us.
“Yet they grip us and take possession of us just as other women do, but in a different way, less tenacious, less painful and sorrowful.
“My feelings in that way I cannot yet describe with any accuracy. I told you a little while ago that Africa, this bare artless country, devoid of all intellectual attraction, gradually overcomes us by an indefinable and unfailing charm, by the breath of its atmosphere, by the constant mildness of the early mornings and the evenings, by its delightful sunlight and by the feeling of well-being that it instils in us. Well, Allouma attracted me in the same way by numberless hidden and fascinating enticements, by the keen allurements, not of her caresses, for she was typically Oriental in her nonchalance, but of her charming unconstraint.
“I left her absolutely free to come and go as she pleased, and she passed at least one afternoon out of every two in the neighbouring camp, amongst my native labourers’ womenfolk. Often, too, she would spend a whole day admiring herself in the glazed mahogany wardrobe that I had obtained from Miliana. She admired herself in all conscience, standing before the great glass door in which she followed her movements with deep and serious attention. She would walk with her head thrown back in order to pass judgment on her hips and her back, turn, move away and come back again, until, tired of moving about, she would sit on a hassock and contemplate her reflection face to face, her mind absorbed in this occupation.
“After a little while, I noticed that she went out nearly every day after breakfast, and disappeared completely until the evening.
“Feeling somewhat anxious, I asked Mohammed whether he knew what she might be doing during this lengthy absence.
“ ‘Don’t let it trouble you,’ he replied, unconcernedly, ‘the feast of Ramadan will soon be here. She has to carry out her devotions.’
“He also seemed delighted with the presence of Allouma in the house, but not once did I detect the least sign of anything suspicious between them, nor did they even seem to be in collusion, or to hide anything from me.
“I therefore accepted the situation, though without understanding it, leaving the solution to the workings of time and chance.
“Often, after inspecting my fields, the vines and the clearings, I would go for a long walk. You know the magnificent forests of this part of Algeria, those almost impenetrable ravines where the fallen pine-trees dam the torrents, and those little dells full of rosebay which from the mountain tops look like Oriental carpets spread out along the watercourses. You know that frequently in these woods and on these slopes, where never a soul seems to have penetrated, you may suddenly come across the snow-white dome of a koubla containing the bones of a lonely, humble marabout, visited at infrequent intervals by a few determined followers, who come from the neighbouring village with candles in their pockets to light them on the tomb of the holy man.
“One evening, as I was returning, I passed close to one of these Mohammedan chapels, and glancing through the ever open door, I saw that a woman was praying before the shrine. It made a charming picture, this Arab girl bowed on the floor in the ruinous building, where the wind entered at will and piled up into yellowish heaps in the corners the withered, delicate pine-needles. I approached in order to see better, and recognised Allouma. Absorbed in her devotions, she neither saw nor heard me, and continued to address the saint in a low voice, thinking herself alone with him, and pouring out to God’s servant all her troubles. Sometime she stopped awhile to meditate, to remember what she had still to say, to make sure of forgetting none of her store of confidences; at other times she grew excited as if he had answered her, or as if he had advised her to do something against her will, against which she was arguing.
“I stole away noiselessly, as I had come, and returned to dinner.
“In the evening I sent for her, and as she came in I saw on her face a thoughtful look that was not usually there.
“ ‘Sit down there,’ I said to her, indicating a seat on the couch by my side.
“She sat down, and as I leaned towards her to kiss her, she drew her head back quickly.
“I was astonished, and asked her what was the matter.
“ ‘It is Ramadan,’ she said.
“I began to laugh.
“ ‘And the marabout has forbidden you to allow yourself to be kissed during Ramadan?’
“ ‘Oh, yes! I am an Arab, and you are an infidel.’
“ ‘That would be a great sin?’
“ ‘Oh, yes!’
“ ‘Then you have eaten nothing all day, until sunset?’
“ ‘No, nothing.’
“ ‘But after sunset you had something to eat?’
“ ‘Yes.’
“ ‘Well, then, as it is quite dark now, you cannot be less strict on food than on anything else.’
“She looked ruffled and hurt, and retorted with a haughtiness that I had not known in her before:
“ ‘If an Arab girl let herself be touched by an infidel during Ramadan, she would be accursed forever.’
“ ‘And this will last for the whole of the month?’
“She replied with a definite air:
“ ‘Yes, the whole month of Ramadan.’
“I adopted a tone of annoyance, and said to her:
“ ‘Very well, you may go and spend Ramadan with your family.’
“She seized my hands and clasped them to her, crying:
“ ‘Oh! I beg of you, don’t be cruel; you shall see how good I
