Instead of going away, Babalatchi, unconscious of Aissa's eyes, often sat again by the fire, in a long and deep meditation.

Aissa looked with respect on that wise and brave man--she was accustomed to see at her father's side as long as she could remember--sitting alone and thoughtful in the silent night by the dying fire, his body motionless and his mind wandering in the land of memories, or--who knows ?--perhaps groping for a road in the waste spaces of the uncertain future.
Babalatchi noted the arrival of Willems with alarm at this new accession to the white men's strength.

Afterwards he changed his opinion.

He met Willems one night on the path leading to Omar's house, and noticed later on, with only a moderate surprise, that the blind Arab did not seem to be aware of the new white man's visits to the neighbourhood of his dwelling.

Once, coming unexpectedly in the daytime, Babalatchi fancied he could see the gleam of a white jacket in the bushes on the other side of the brook.