Before Sunset I Came Up With An Encampment Of Arabs (The Encampment
From Which My Camels Had Been Brought), And My Tent Was Pitched
Amongst Theirs.
I was now amongst the true Bedouins.
Almost every
man of this race closely resembles his brethren. Almost every man
has large and finely-formed features; but his face is so thoroughly
stripped of flesh, and the white folds from his headgear fall down
by his haggard cheeks so much in the burial fashion, that he looks
quite sad and ghastly. His large dark orbs roll slowly and
solemnly over the white of his deep-set eyes; his countenance shows
painful thought and long-suffering, the suffering of one fallen
from a high estate. His gait is strangely majestic, and he marches
along with his simple blanket as though he were wearing the purple.
His common talk is a series of piercing screams and cries, {29}
more painful to the ear than the most excruciating fine music that
I ever endured.
The Bedouin women are not treasured up like the wives and daughters
of other Orientals, and indeed they seemed almost entirely free
from the restraints imposed by jealousy. The feint which they made
of concealing their faces from me was always slight. They never, I
think, wore the yashmak properly fixed. When they first saw me
they used to hold up a part of their drapery with one hand across
their faces, but they seldom persevered very steadily in subjecting
me to this privation.
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