Page:Algeria from Within.pdf/78

"You are very young," he said at last, "but you have the wisdom of a great marabout."

He spoke no more, and sat fingering the coral beads from Mecca, deep in meditation. I sat quiet, too, contemplating the amazing scene before me. The dark blue and red carpets, the flickering candles casting grotesque shadows on the ceiling, the flaming colors of the girls’ dresses as they sat in a semi-circle contemplating their noble guest, while their bracelets and anklets gleamed in the dark corners of the room.

Suddenly the old man turned to me again.

"You have a great doctor called Voronoff, have you not?" he asked.

"Well, he does not come from my country, but he is a European," I replied.

"I have studied his teaching," went on the old man. "Can he really rejuvenate the old?"

"For a short time I believe," I said, "but I have really not gone deeply into the question. Personally I do not quite see the value of being made to live beyond our appointed time."

The old man smiled.

"You are wise, but you are young. When you feel the weight of years weighing on you, you will wish again to have all your vitality, all your faculties. And yet our death is destined, and what can a human do? Mektoub!"

He bowed his head and seemed again lost in meditation.

"Youth fades rapidly, and old age lasts long," he said at last. Then, rising, he moved toward the door. Outside a warm breeze struck our faces, the stars seemed large and bright in the dark heavens; over there, down the street, one could hear the deep notes of the Arab flute drawing out its plaintive tune, the rhythmical beat of the tam-tam struck our ears.