ABSTRACT
IT was the day after our return. Faris and I were lying on a hillock, idly watching his father’s roaming herds. He spoke of his sweetheart with emotion and somewhat quaintly: “She who approaches in the camel litter”—“she who is hidden behind the veils of the riding tent”—“the guarded one”—“the strong dhalul shall carry her through the deep shadowy valley until the rising sun reddens her cheeks with its radiance——”
