At last the boy returned breathless, and the precious stuff was
poured on her hair and hands. Then she stood up radiant and the
women sighed and smiled by turns as she went out, preceded by the
old slave. A long narrow passage, lighted overhead by swinging
coloured lamps, divided the women's from the men's apartments, and
through this they passed noiselessly over the matting-covered
floor. At the end fell heavy curtains, concealing the door and some
steps. Here the slave left the girl, and Dilama went through the
curtains alone. She mounted the steps and passed through the door.
All was quite silent here, and the passage unlighted, except that
through a tiny window high up above her head a streak of moonlight
fell across her way. Dilama paused oppressed, she knew not by what
feeling. Only a short passage and another curtained door divided
her now from Ahmed's presence. Her breath came fast, her pulses
beat nervously, and her feet dragged; slowly and unwillingly she
crept onward, harassed by cold, vague fears. Before the door itself
she trembled, and her soft hands and wrists hardly availed to push
it open. It yielded slowly, and fell to behind her in silence.
The room was full of light; a silver blaze of moonlight illumined
it from end to end. The great windows, over which usually the
curtains were drawn, stood uncovered and wide open to the soft
Damascus air.
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