«Couldn’t be better,» he answered, pleased that she understood so well.
«That’s the beautiful. Come from God». She pointed casually upward. He was a little embarrassed, as he always was when a serious reference to God was made. Now he was not sure whether she had really understood him or not.
«Well, let’s eat». He bit into a sandwich.
«Bismil ’lah,» said Hadija, doing likewise.
«What’s that mean? Good appetite?»
«It mean we eat for God».
«Oh».
«You say».
She repeated it several times and made him say it until he had pronounced it to her satisfaction. Then they ate.
After lunch he went out and climbed among the rocks for a few minutes. It pleased him to see that there was not a soul in sight in either direction along the shore; he had half expected the gang of youths to follow them and perhaps continue their antics below on the rocks. But there was no one. When he returned to the cave he sat down outside it and called to Hadija.
«Come on out and sit here. It’s too dark inside».
She obeyed. In a moment they were lying locked in each other’s arms. When she complained of the cold rock beneath her, he got his jacket from inside the cave, put it under her, and lay down again.
«D’you know what I want?» he said, looking at the tiny black knob his head made against the sky in her eyes.
«You want?»
«Yes. D’you know what I want? I want to live with you. All the time. So we can be like this every night, every morning. You know? You understand?»
«Oh, yes».
«I’ll get you a little room, a good room. You live in it and I’ll come and see you every day. Would you like that?»
«I come every day?»
«No!» He moved one arm out from under her and gestured, pointing. «I pay for the room. You live in it. I come and see you every night. Yes?»
She smiled. «All right». It was as if he had said: «What do you say to starting back in about an hour?» As this occurred to him, he did say: «Want to start back pretty soon?»
«O.K».
His heart sank a little. He was right: it was the same voice, the same smile. He sighed. Still, she had agreed.
«But you promise?»
«What?»
«You’ll live in the room?»
«Oh, yes». She took his head between her hands and kissed him on each cheek. «You come today?»
«Come where? The room?» He was about to begin again, to explain that he had not yet rented the room for her.
«No. No my room. Miss Goode. You come I take you. She very good friend. She got room Hotel Metropole».
«No. I don’t want to go there. What would I want to do that for? You go if you want».
«She tell me you bring you drink whiskey».
Dyar laughed. «I don’t think she said that, Hadija».
«Sure she say that».
«She’s never heard of me and I’ve never heard of her. Who is she, anyway?»
«She got one little radio. I said you before. You know. Miss Goode. She got room Hotel Metropole. You come. I take you».
«You’re crazy!»
Hadija tried to sit up. She looked very much upset. «I crazy? You crazy! You think I’m lie?» She pushed him in the chest with all her might, struggling to rise.
He was a little alarmed. To placate her he said: «I’ll come! I’ll come! Don’t get so excited, for God’s sake! What’s the matter with you? If you want me to stop by and see her, I’M stop by and see her, I don’t care».
«I no care. She tell me you bring you drink whiskey. You like whiskey?»
«Yes, yes. Sure. Now you lie back down there. I’ve got something to tell you».
«What?» she asked ingenuously, settling back, her great eyes wide.
«This». He kissed her. «I love you». His open lips touched hers all the way around as he said the words.
Hadija did not seem surprised to hear it. «Again?» she said, smiling.
«Huh?»
«You love me again now? This time quick one, yes? This time take few minutes. No take pants off. Then we go Hotel Metropole».
IX
On Saturday Hadija had told Eunice Goode that she would be out all the next day with a friend. After a certain amount of questioning Eunice had got an admission from her that it was the American gentleman and that they were going on a picnic. She did not think it wise to express any objections. For one thing Hadija had already made it clear that she did not by any means consider this sojourn at the Hotel Metropole a permanent arrangement, and that she would leave any time she felt like it. (What she hoped to be given eventually was an apartment of her own on the Boulevard.) And then, Eunice realized that in such a situation she was incapable herself of offering a quiet argument; she would straightway be precipitated into a violent scene. With her sometimes painfully acute objective sense she knew she would be the loser in any such quarreclass="underline" she was supremely conscious of being a comic figure. She knew which of her attributes operated against her, and they were several. Her voice, while pleasant and easily modulated when used with low dynamics, became a thin screech as soon as it was called upon to be more than mildly expressive. Her torso bulged in rather the same fashion as that of a portly old gentleman, her arms and legs were gigantic, and her hypersensitive skin was always irritated and purplish, so that her face often looked as though she had just finished climbing to the summit of a mountain. She told herself she did not rnind being a comic character; she accepted the fact and used it to insulate herself from the too-near, ever-threatening world. Dressed in a manner which accentuated the deficiencies of her body, wherever she went she was a thing rather than a person; she was determined to enjoy to the full the benefits of that exemption.
From the first she had been an object of interest in the streets of Tangier; now, appearing regularly in public with Hadija, whom a great number of the lower-class native inhabitants knew and the rest swiftly learned about, she became a full-fledged legendary figure in the Zoco Chico. The Arabs in the cafés there were delighted: it was a new variation on human behavior.
In these four days Hadija had forced her to lead a much more active life than was her wont, dragging her to all the bars and night clubs the girl had always wanted to see. Eunice had met several people she knew at these places. To them she had presented Hadija as Miss Kumari from Nicosia. She thought it unlikely that they would come across anyone who spoke modern Greek, and even if they did, she planned to explain that the dialect of Cyprus was altogether a different language.
Notwithstanding her outward coolness, Eunice was greatly disturbed when Hadija announced her projected outing. She lay back against the pillows watching the harbor as usual, saying to herself very firmly that action must be taken. It could not be against Hadija, so it must be against the American. (Since she loathed travel, and Mme. Papaconstante had so far given no sign that she was going to try and get Hadija back, she had renounced the idea of spiriting the girl away to Europe.) Going on from there, it was clear that one had to know what one was fighting. She thought of dwelling on the idea that the man had no money, but then she decided that there was no line of reasoning which would carry any weight with Hadija, and she had best keep still. And for all she knew, perhaps he did have money, although she had reconsidered the overheard conversation at the Bar Lucifer and decided that the man’s reluctance to part with his money had not been due to viciousness. And he had had to borrow the extra sum from his friend. It seemed reasonable to think that he was not too well off. She hoped that was the case; it could be strongly in her favor. Poverty in other people generally was.