The Arab boy, they will tell you, is full of guile, and must be repressed.
Granted, but----
A colony, furthermore, is _not an orchid_.
Granted.
Q.E.D.
_Chapter IX_
_SOME OF OUR GUESTS_
I shall be glad to leave for Metlaoui and the Djerid. Gafsa is losing its
flavour; the novelty and pungency are gone. The same old faces, the same
old _bouts de conversation_; quickly, indeed, does one live oneself into a
place and learn, or think to learn, all its little secrets.
The hotel, too, has suddenly become an insufferable menagerie. Mysterious
inspectors come and go, and commercial travellers of unappetizing looks
and habits are far more frequent than formerly. But I shall regret the
earth-convulsing laughter of the Greek doctor, who has latterly taken to
putting in an appearance at meal-time. He is a gruff, jovial personage,
and so huge in bulk that he can barely squeeze into the door of his little
shop in the _souk_ where he sits, surrounded by unguents and embrocations,
to treat the natives for their multifarious distempers. He is quite
straightforward about the business.
Pages:
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95