He went thoughtfully out of the noisy, reeking ballroom into the warm
luster of the Algerian night; as he went, Cigarette, who had been nearer
than he knew, flashed full in his eyes the fury of her own sparkling
ones, while, with a contemptuous laugh, she struck him on the lips with
the cigar she hurled at him.
"Unsexed? Pouf! If you have a woman's face, may I not have a man's soul?
It is only a fair exchange. I am no kitten, bon zig; take care of my
talons!"
The words were spoken with the fierceness of Africa; she had too much
in her of the spirit of the Zephyrs and the Chacals, with whom her youth
had been spent from her cradle up, not to be dangerous when roused; she
was off at a bound, and in the midst of the mad whirl again before he
could attempt to soften or efface the words she had overheard, and the
last thing he saw of her was in a cloud of Zouaves and Spahis with the
wild uproar of the music shaking riotous echoes from the rafters.
But when he had passed out of sight Cigarette shook herself free from
the dancers with petulant impatience; she was not to be allured by
flattery or drawn by entreaty back amongst them; she set her delicate
pearly teeth tight, and vowed with a reckless, contemptuous, impetuous
oath that she was tired; that she was sick of them; that she was no
strolling player to caper for them with a tambourine; and with that
declaration made her way out alone into the little open court under
the stars, so cool, so still after the heat, and riot, and turbulence
within.
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