She felt that they needed a protector in this mob of shouting brown and
black men, who clamoured about them like savages, exposing bare legs and
arms, even bare chests, in a most barbarous manner.

"We are going to the Hotel du Desert," Domini continued. "Is it far?"

"Only a few minutes, Madame."

"I shall like to walk there."

Suzanne collapsed. Her bones became as wax with apprehension. She saw
herself toiling over leagues of sand towards some nameless hovel.

"Suzanne, you can get into the omnibus and take the handbags."

At the sweet word omnibus a ray of hope stole into the maid's heart, and
when a nicely-dressed man, in a long blue coat and indubitable trousers,
assisted her politely into a vehicle which was unmistakable she almost
wept for joy.

Meanwhile Domini, escorted serenely by the poet, walked towards the long
gardens of Beni-Mora. She passed over a wooden bridge. White dust was
flying from the road, along which many of the Arab aristocracy were
indolently strolling, carrying lightly in their hands small red roses or
sprigs of pink geranium. In their white robes they looked, she thought,
like monks, though the cigarettes many of them were smoking fought
against the illusion. Some of them were dressed like Batouch in
pale-coloured cloth. They held each other's hands loosely as they
sauntered along, chattering in soft contralto voices. Two or three were
attended by servants, who walked a pace or two behind them on the left.