THE "CITIES" OF KUFARA 209 



as profound as the stillness of the desert. Words, even 

 smiles, would have been out of place during the little 

 ceremony, while rose-water or mint was being measured 

 gravely by the sensitive fingers of our host. Beyond the 

 circle of light cast by a solitary candle in a high silver 

 sconce were only vague forms of cushions or huge chests 

 looming in remote corners. Within it was a dark, thin- 

 faced young sheikh, all in white, from his silken kufiya 

 to his flowing jerd and beside him our grave, reflective 

 host, with a vivid green shawl bordered in purple 

 framing his bronzed face and drooping over a long 

 green jubba, which showed the richly embroidered sedairi 

 beneath. A jewelled hand slowly poured drop after 

 drop of essence into the amber glasses, while the scented 

 smoke of a little brazier drifted gently across the picture. 

 One heard Time pause to catch the shadows of thoughts 

 that wavered between the light and the dark, so mystic 

 was the silence. Then suddenly and startlingly clear 

 came the sound that perfected the harmony — the cry of 

 the muezzin for the evening prayer! 



Next day a small and somewhat forlorn party 

 descended one of the steep defiles into the wadi. It 

 consisted of Hassanein and myself, mounted on micro- 

 scopic yet exceedingly unrulj^ donkeys, the Commandant 

 of the Gendarmerie, resplendent in pale grey uniform 

 slashed and faced with red and an immense tasselled 

 kufiya, with four fully armed soldiers and a most pic- 

 turesque Zouia sheikh, Mohammed Teifaitah, the only 

 tribesman who was brave enough to accompany us. H^ 

 was splendidly mounted on a white Arab horse, curved 

 of neck and long of pastern, with a scarlet saddle, bow- 

 pommelled, five different coloured saddle-cloths, and 

 silver stirrups rather like sharp coal scuttles. 



Kufara is narrow at the eastern end and with a break 

 in the southern wall of cliff, where a broad space runs 



