There were times, then and later on, when the Maalem seemed to be some
Moorish connection of Captain Kettle's family, and after reflecting upon
my experience among hard-swearing men of many nations, seafarers,
land-sharks, beach-combers and the rest, I award the Maalem pride of
place. You will find him to-day in Djedida, baking his bread with the aid
of the small apprentice who looks after the shop when he goes abroad, or
enjoying the dreams of the haschisch eater when his work is done. He is no
man's enemy, and the penalty of his shortcomings will probably fall upon
no body or soul save his own. A picturesque figure, passionate yet a
philosopher, patiently tolerant of blinding heat, bad roads, uncomfortable
sleeping quarters and short commons, the Maalem will remain alive and real
in my memory long after the kaids and wazeers and other high dignitaries
of his country are no more than dimly splendid shadows, lacking altogether
in individuality.
I learned to enjoy Djedida by night. Then the town was almost as silent as
our camp below Mediunah had been. The ramparts left by the Portuguese and
the white walls of the city itself became all of a piece, indistinct and
mysterious as the darkness blended them.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55