“She is here.”

“Well, if you have the sentiments of most men, I desire you to bring her here, I want to see her.”

“I will do what you ask. If she’ll come, I’ll bring her. If not, I will return and tell you.”

He set out, and, arriving at the house of the lady, he saw some people, and said “Good-evening” to them.

“Come dine with us,” they said to him.

“I have but just now eaten and am not hungry.” He pretended to amuse himself with them to shorten the night, in reality to put to sleep their vigilance. These people went away to amuse themselves while he met the lady.

“A man sends me to you,” he said, “a Targui, who wants to marry you. He is as handsome as you are, his eyes are fine, his nose is fine, his mouth is fine.”

“Well, I will marry him.” She went to him and married him, and they set out on a camel together. When the first husband returned, he found that she had gone. He said to himself: “She is at my father’s or perhaps my uncle’s.” When day dawned he said to his sister, “Go see if she is in thy father’s house or thy uncle’s.” She went, and did not find her there. He went out to look for her, and perceived the camel’s traces. Then he saddled his own camel.

The women came out and said: “Stay! Do not go; we will give thee our own daughters to marry.”

“No,” he replied, “I want to find my wife.” He goes out, he follows the tracks of the camel, here, here, here, until the sun goes down. He spends the night upon the trail. His camel is a runner of five years. When the sun rises he starts and follows the trail again.

About four o’clock he arrives at an encampment of the Touareg, and finds some shepherds with their flocks. He confides in one of these men, and says to him: “A word, brave man, brother of beautiful women, I would say a word to thee which thou wilt not repeat.”

“Speak.”

“Did a woman arrive at this place night before last?”

“She did.”

“Hast thou the sentiments of a man of heart?”

“Truly.”

“I desire to talk to her.”

“I will take thee to her. Go, hide thy camel; tie him up. Change thy clothing. Thou wilt not then be recognized among the sheep. Bring thy sabre and come. Thou shalt walk as the sheep walk.”

“I will walk toward you, taking the appearance of a sheep, so as not to be perceived.”

“The wedding-festival is set for to-night, and everybody will be out of their houses. When I arrive at the tent of this lady I will strike a stake with my stick. Where I shall strike, that is where she lives.”

He waits and conceals himself among the flocks, and the women come out to milk. He looks among the groups of tents. He finds his wife and bids her come with him.

“I will not go with thee, but if thou art hungry, I will give thee food.”

“Thou’lt come with me or I will kill thee!”

She goes with him. He finds his camel, unfastens him, dons his ordinary clothing, takes his wife upon the camel’s back with him, and departs. The day dawns. She says:

“O thou who art the son of my paternal uncle, I am thirsty.” Now she planned a treachery.

He said to her: “Is there any water here?”

“The day the Targui took me off we found some in that pass.” They arrived at the well.

“Go down into the well,” said the Soufi.

“I’m only a woman. I’m afraid. Go down thyself.” He goes down. He draws the water. She drinks. He draws more water for the camel, which is drinking, when she pours the water on the ground.

“Why dost thou turn out the water?”

“I did not turn it out; thy camel drank it.” And nevertheless she casts her glances and sees a dust in the distance. The Targui is coming. The woman says:

“Now I have trapped him for thee.”

“Brava!” he cries, and addressing the Soufi: “Draw me some water that I may drink.” He draws the water, and the Targui drinks. The woman says to him: “Kill him in the well. He is a good shot. Thou art not stronger than he is.”

“No,” he answered, “I do not want to soil a well of the tribes. I’ll make him come up.” The Soufi comes up till his shoulders appear. They seize him, hoist and bind him, and tie his feet together. Then they seize and kill his camel.

“Bring wood,” says the Targui to the woman; “we’ll roast some meat.” She brings him some wood. He cooked the meat and ate it, while she roasted pieces of fat till they dripped upon her cousin.

“Don’t do that,” says the Targui.

She says, “He drew his sword on me, crying, ‘Come with me or I will kill thee.'”

“In that case do as you like.” She dropped the grease upon his breast, face, and neck until his skin was burnt. While she was doing this, the Targui felt sleep coming upon him, and said to the woman, “Watch over him, lest he should slip out of our hands.”

While he slept the Soufi speaks: “Word of goodness, O excellent woman, bend over me that I may kiss thy mouth or else thy cheek.” She says: “God make thy tent empty. Thou’lt die soon, and thou thinkest of kisses?”

“Truly I am going to die, and I die for thee. I love thee more than the whole world. Let me kiss thee once. I’ll have a moment of joy, and then I’ll die.” She bends over him, and he kisses her.

She says, “What dost thou want?”

“That thou shalt untie me.” She unties him. He says to her: “Keep silent. Do not speak a word.” Then he unfastens the shackles that bind his feet, puts on his cloak, takes his gun, draws out the old charge and loads it anew, examines the flint-lock and sees that it works well. Then he says to the woman, “Lift up the Targui.” The latter awakes.

“Why,” says he, “didst thou not kill me in my sleep?”

“Because thou didst not kill me when I was in the well. Get up. Stand down there, while I stand here.”

The Targui obeys, and says to the Soufi: “Fire first.”

“No, I’ll let thee fire first.”

The woman speaks: “Strike, strike, O Targui, thou art not as strong as the Soufi.”

The Targui rises, fires, and now the woman gives voice to a long “you–you.” It strikes the chechias that fly above his head. At his turn the Soufi prepares himself and says:

“Stand up straight now, as I did for thee.” He fires, and hits him on the forehead. His enemy dead, he flies at him and cuts his throat.

He then goes to the camel, cuts some meat, and says to the woman: “Go, find me some wood, I want to cook and eat.”

“I will not go,” she says. He approaches, threatening her, and strikes her. She gets up then and brings him some wood. He cooks the meat and eats his fill. He thinks then of killing the woman, but he fears that the people of his tribe will say, “Thou didst not bring her back.” So he takes her on the camel and starts homeward. His cousins are pasturing their flocks on a hill. When he had nearly arrived a dust arose. He draws near, and they see that it is he. His brother speaks, “What have they done to thee?”

He answers, “The daughter of my uncle did all this.”

Then they killed the woman and cut her flesh in strips and threw it on a jujube-tree. And the jackals and birds of prey came and passed the whole day eating it, until there was none left.

Running and expanding this site requires resources: from maintaining our digital platform to sourcing and curating new content. With your help, we can grow our collection, improve accessibility, and bring these incredible narratives to an even wider audience. Your sponsorship enables us to keep the world’s stories alive and thriving. ♦ Visit our Support page