day between night and morning: for while he was
driving the cows to the spring, one cow strayed into a neighboring vineyard, and no sooner had he turned into the vineyard to bring her back than there came a fierce barking and a shouted call from afar:
— Who's that tramping through the vineyard?!...
Husni turned, and there at the edge of the vineyard stood a watchman's hut of boughs, and at its door a dark girl, slender of figure, the wind puffing out her thin dress and playing with her long hair; beside her a white dog, still wagging its tail and stretching out its neck with barks that reached him along with the call:
— Who's that in the vineyard?!... Man or cattle?!...
— A neighbor of yours... a near neighbor...
— A neighbor of ours?!... How many neighbors there are!... Come, out of the vineyard, or else draw near the hut... or 'Baroud' will set upon you and tear you to pieces... Who are you?!...
— Husni... Husni, son of Abu Husni... herdsman of the cows. I was taking them to the spring... and one cow strayed... but she has not nibbled a single leaf off a vine... She's a sensible one... and gives a ratl of milk a day... two ratls... Don't you like cow's milk?!...
— Why, I like no milk but it!...
— Then bring a bowl... and this one's milk is not like any other milk... and you shall have a bowl every day...
— Is this the first time you've taken this path?!...
— Why, every morning and every evening... but I never caught sight of you before... and I never knew there was a dark neighbor girl in the valley... just as I do not know this neighbor's name!...
— Rihana... Rihana, daughter of Abu al-Fahd, and sister of al-Fahd...
— What a lovely name!... Like the breath of the vineyards... O dark one!...
— Dark one?!... No, I'm no dark one!... But my family made me keeper of the vineyards, and the sun has browned me and the wind scorched me... Won't you stay a little, and wet your throat with a cluster of grapes and a fig?... Our clusters are dewy... and our figs delicious!...
And Husni felt as if the flavor of grapes and figs still clung to his mouth... But he kept passing by the hut on every going and every returning; he would fill the bowl of milk for her, and she would make ready the basket of grapes and figs for him, and they would eat until they were full, and drink until their thirst was quenched, and laugh and sing until they tired... So, day after day... until it chanced that they met one noon on the bridge of the spring, and Rihana called to him:
— Where to from here, Husni?
— To the other bank... to the spring and the pasture... And you, where to?
— To the other bank... to the vineyard... Is there anything but the vineyard?!...
— How far the vineyard is from the pasture... and the one bank from the other... were it not for this bridge!...
— There will always be a bridge there!...
— Who knows?!... The torrent may sweep it away when winter comes and the river floods!...
— But we shall trace it out again... There must be a bridge there... for the vineyard longs for the pasture, and the bank yearns for the other bank... and were it not for this river... Listen, I have an idea... You take a handful of our soil and scatter it in your soil, and I take a handful of your soil and scatter it in ours...
And Husni felt that he was still clutching a handful of earth, its dust still staining his palm... But he kept passing by the hut and waiting on the bridge, the
two of them between eating and drinking, laughter and song and play... So... day after day, and week after week... until the late afternoon of that day, when he was sitting on the old smooth rock, beneath the ancient oak towering on the shoulder of the knoll, and Rihana came up behind him stealing on tiptoe, then drew near, clapped her palms over his eyes and pressed, and he cried out in fright:
— Who?!...
— ...
— Who?!... How am I to guess?!... What teasing is this, and what jesting?!... Who?!
— ...
— Oof... what a droll one!...
But his hands went feeling and probing, and found slender soft fingers, a thin flowing dress, a slim slender waist, long tumbling hair, a smooth cheek, a lip — two lips... So he said, holding fast to her and turning about:
— It's you, you little devil!... You... who else!
Then he wrapped her in his arms and drew her to him, in something of playfulness and something of reproach; but she said, trying to slip loose and escape:
— And what is this, sitting here all alone?!... Perhaps you have a rendezvous!...
— Do you see this land, Rihana?!...
— This land?! What do I see but land upon land?!...
— All this land is ours... and it shall become a paradise... become a world... from the rocks of the rough ground to the riverbank... from the bridge of the spring to the vineyard of grape and fig... All this land is ours!...
And it seemed to Husni that he was still sitting on the rock, with Rihana all but slipping from between his arms... But he kept passing by the hut, and waiting on the bridge, and sitting on the rock,
the two