400
CAIRO TO DAMASCUS
variety of mood, such earthy suggestiveness, that words were
unnecessary. ... I looked around. Hostesses of the Garden
of the Orient were busy under the fig trees drinking with and
entertaining the amorous Arabs. The blue lights and the starlight and the small bulb lighting the stage cast a tropical glow
on everything about me. A warm desert wind rustled through
the trees. The rhythmic beat of the tom-tom sounded like the
far-off" call to a mystic ritual.
"Arak! Waiter, more arak!"
"A toast to the dancer!"
"T