A naked sword leaned against a stool by the side of a shield; whips of hippopotamus leather, cymbals, bells, and necklaces were displayed pell-mell on baskets of esparto-grass; a felt rug lay soiled with crumbs of black bread; some copper money was carelessly heaped upon a round stone in a corner, and through the rents in the canvas the wind brought the dust from without, together with the smell of the elephants, which might be heard eating and shaking their chains.
"Who are you ?" said Matho.
She looked slowly around her without replying; then her eyes were arrested in the background, where something bluish and sparkling fell upon a bed of palm-branches.
She advanced quickly.

A cry escaped her.

Matho stamped his foot behind her.
"Who brings you here?
why do you come ?" "To take it!" she replied, pointing to the zaimph, and with the other hand she tore the veils from her head.

He drew back with his elbows behind him, gaping, almost terrified.
She felt as if she were leaning on the might of the gods; and looking at him face to face she asked him for the zaimph; she demanded it in words abundant and superb.
Matho did not hear; he was gazing at her, and in his eyes her garments were blended with her body.

The clouding of the stuffs, like the splendour of her skin, was something special and belonging to her alone.
Her eyes and her diamonds sparkled; the polish of her nails continued the delicacy of the stones which loaded her fingers; the two clasps of her tunic raised her breasts somewhat and brought them closer together, and he in thought lost himself in the narrow interval between them whence there fell a thread holding a plate of emeralds which could be seen lower down beneath the violet gauze.