see inside a circle of Arab Bedouins crouching over a fire. There
seemed no hilarity, their faces were solemn as the grave.

Presently, in the narrowest and darkest street, there was a sound of
tom-toms, strains of weird music and voices, and through the chinks of
the half-opened shutters light streamed across the road--while a small
crowd of Arabs were grouped about the gate in the wall holding donkeys
and a camel.

"A wedding," said the young man. "They have escorted the bride. What
pleasure to raise a veil and see a black face! But each one to his
taste."

Tamara looked up at the window. She wondered what could be happening
within--were the other wives there as well? She would have liked to
have asked.

The young man saw her hesitation and said laconically--

"Well?"

"They are having a party," Tamara replied, with lame obviousness.

"Of course," said the young man. "Weddings and funerals--equally good
occasions for company. They are so wise they leave all to fate; they do
not tear their eyes out for something they cannot have--and fight after
disappointment. They are philosophers, these Arabs."

The little crowd round the gate now barred the road, half good
humoredly, half with menace.