The Hidden Treasure
affair I carried in my saddle-bag. The daughter of the house
had a velvet coat too, full skirted and left open in the front.
She had a turquoise and gold ring in her nose, over the tattoo
mark on her Hp; her hands and feet were tattooed with thin
blue branches of palm leaf, not unbecoming; and on her wrists
she wore heavy silver bangles which flashed in the firelight
as she kneaded the dough for our supper.
I wondered if among their poets, who still sing in the old
manner about the things they know, there is not someone
who has told the splendour of his beloved's hands with their
silver bracelets, as she tosses the bread from one to the other
with swift and lovely movement in this most beautiful of
household tasks. When the flour was kneaded, a sort of convex
shield of metal called the saj was laid above the flames, the
pancakes of dough were thrown upon it one at a time, and the
bread, warm and rather sodden, was ready in a minute or so.
But this was not all our supper. The tomatoes were
cooking in a pot while our hunger in the meanwhile was
being stayed with raw cucumbers. Our meal was evidently
looked on in the nature of a banquet. Every now and then
the mother of the family gave it a stir, tasted it, and nodded
with an appreciation beyond mere powers of speech. Four
little boys, subdued with expectation, sat in a silent row,
while a smaller infant amused himself with two lambs, tied
up in the tent near the fire out of the way of wolves, and
evidently used to being treated as members of die family.
The little daughter, the prettiest woman's eldest child, busied
herself with household jobs, knowing well that her chance of
the feast was remote.
And presently the dinner was cooked: the tomatoes were
poured out steaming: they had dwindled, alas, and now only
just looked presentable on three small pewter plates, one for
me, one for the Philosopher, and one for the two muleteers.
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