Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 67: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

58 in him—the desire to see behind her veil, to be anear her. The drum throbbed, the pipe’s thin-edged note keened through the rich roll of the sounding, tight-stretched skin. . The old man got lightly up and gazed down at the two seated on the mat, strok- ing his white beard slowly. ‘Entertain you the guest, Merim,” he said softly, ‘“‘ the while I go to make sure all is ready for the ceremony.” She spoke then, for the first time since eoming: ss “But, my father—” Her voice was low, full, rich in liquid undertones, alluring minors that were not lost on La Forge’s desire-chained ears. ‘““ Thy father orders it; put up the veil; entertain the stranger.” She bowed in submission and flung up the veil. The old man softly stepped away into. the sand, toward the farther tents. His chuckle trailed back as he went. Afar the night-bird called; the dun batted flitted anear. Pierre watched until the woman raised her head, seeking in the dim moonlight for a clearer view of her face. His own, he felt, was well illuminated to the eyes of one of the desert-born by the rays of the lowering sickle. The warmth of the red drink was work- ing through and through La Forge’s being, and he felt bold—overbold. “Tell me of yourself,” the pleaded, bend- ing farther toward her. She did not draw back. ‘Tell me of your life. Have you been here often to dance before the dead Marabout?”’ : ' “No, O stranger! Never before. From earliest maidenhood I was set apart; taught the dance by the elder women of our small tribe. But one girl of the tribe is so set apart at a time—she whom the old man elects.”’ “Ts he, then, not your father?” ‘““ Yes, the father of us all.” She fell on silence then, musing, her chin cupped in one slender hand. Pierre saw, with many glances, that in that light her face had the appearance of rounded health, was satisfying: The eyes, burning, deep, under heavily marked brows, held him for ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. many seconds. As he gazed so, unrebuked, the drum pulsed; the pipes wailed, and the desire in him mounted as the taste of the red liquor warmed his throat’s depths. “Tell me,” he said suddenly, “ where you get the pomegranates from which you make your sherbet? The flavor of them is most sweet.” _ She laughed, deep-throated, easily, and Pierre shuddered, as for a fleeting second her laughter seemed like that of the old man. ‘We brought them from our own oasis —far to the south.” ‘“* And it is called?” ‘“‘ Ask my father.” She became silent again, toying with the folds of her robe. As La Forge watched her the felt more and more drawn to her. “See,” she said, “‘ the slave forgot to remove the cup he brought for my father. If you wish it, drink his sherbet as well. Or shall I send for another .cup?”’ She leaned forward quickly and picked up the forgotten cup from the mat’s edge. He received it from her hand, his own trem- bling. He placed the cup to his lips— drained it at a-draft. He heard the jackal howl distantly. The desire in him mounted anew as the red liquid went down. He fought himself to keep from doing or saying something he should not. He cast the drained cup from. him with a reckless laugh. ‘Doubtless your father has betrothed you to some strong, handsome young sheik?” he felt himself saying, against all customs. 3 : ‘““No; I am not to be wed. I am the tribe’s dancer.”’ “Ah!” and his breath drew in sharply. .““ But tell me of yourself,” she pleaded, bending over toward “him. He began to talk, of this life, his calling, _ his partnership with ’Leesah, their success- es, wanderings. ‘“ And this woman—is she beautiful, lov- ing?” . ) “ Beautiful enough,” he laugKed: “ but loving? No! We are but earning our liv- ing by being together thus.” “Tt would be strange if a woman could be with you and not have thought of—” comiclbool But the thought passed as she said: | C©