Among the Faithful Read Free Page A

knots, smoking and conversing , – magnificent bronzed creatures swathed all in white; from the stench of oranges and tobacco they must have been there for hours. The occupants of the benches were, for the most part, types less distinctive and striking. Their brilliantly coloured robes opened upon embroidered vests, their headgear was the fez or the turban, and most of them affected Paris garters and Continental shoes. A time was to come when I would be able to tell by the tassel of a man’s fez or the coils of his turban his city as well as his trade or profession; now, however, it was evident only that our bench companions were town Arabs, from which we concluded that the others must be bedouins.
    For quite a while we followed the shore-line, making prodigious stops at villages constituted, so far as we could see, of names made up entirely of consonants and of white, block-like stations. Camels in caravan, camels yoked to ploughs, camels pasturing, or turning ancient waterwheels, cactus hedges, olive trees, vineyards, orange orchards, and almond groves. After we left the sea we journeyed for hours over a vast plateau featureless of any growth save cactus and stubble, and enlivened only occasionally by a flock of earth-coloured sheep or a cluster of black tents.
    We fell to discussing what our procedure would be upon our arrival. First of all we must locate the cheapest hotel in town. ‘Do you mind bed-bugs?’ said Beatrice. I did, horribly, but I told her I guessed I could get used to them. She laughed and said I’d probably have to. Then we must avoid guides. They would besiege us upon our arrival, but we would have none of them. Guides were stupid and costly; wewere not tourists, we were here to work, and we’d see what there was to see during the course of a whole winter.
    Just before the train pulls into Kairouan you are given a flash of it, a momentary glimpse of a dead-white city within battlemented ramparts. My heart was pounding as we approached the station. True to her prediction, we hardly set foot off the train when the guides accosted and strove to attach themselves to us, but in the face of every grace and stratagem we stoutly maintained that we had no need of them. Scores of urchins clamoured to carry our luggage, for a few sous we engaged a couple of them, and with the heaviest bags on their heads, we set out to find an hotel.
    There was not a wide range of choice. The Hôtel Splendide was naturally out, the small Hôtel de la Gare, which appeared to be a roistering hang-out for soldiers, was crowded, much to my relief; we had no alternative but to register at another hotel. Madame the patronne emerged from her cups to show us our rooms, which were light and spacious enough, if not over clean. Then Beatrice asked the price. Madame, not too drunk to have sized us up for Americans, named one that would have been exorbitant for a whole suite at the Splendide. We had prepared ourselves for the usual contest. This, however, lengthened to a siege. At last Madame, with a gesture of accepting defeat, came down five francs apiece, and left us faced with the appalling fact that our living would cost us each a dollar a day. But since, for the time being anyway, there was nothing to do about it, we started forth to see the town.
    The French quarter was negligible – pseudo-Moorish buildings on broad streets lined with stuffy palms and eucalyptus trees. Beyond the crenellated walls was the real Kairouan. A gate like a massive key-hole admitted us to the main street. It was broad at first and shaded by pepper trees, the deep fringe of which hung so low that camels in passing bit off garlands to munch along the way. On either side the mysterious life of the shops and coffee-houses flowed on, as ignorant of us as if we had walked invisible. We mingled with the traffic and, like chips in a stream, were carried along we knew not where. Donkey drivers cleared their way with incessant ‘ Burra! Burra! Burra! ’ from