There was a fountain in the middle of the patio, and at the farther end of it, within an alcove that opened out of a horseshoe arch, beneath ceilings hung with stalactites, against walls covered with silken haities, and on Rabat rugs of many colours, sat Ben Aboo and his Christian bride.
It was there that Israel saw the Spaniard for the first time, and at the instant of recognition he shivered as with cold.

She was a handsome woman, but plainly a heartless one--selfish, vain, and vulgar.
Ben Aboo hailed Israel with welcomes and peace-blessings, and Katrina drew Naomi to her side.
"So this is the little maid of whom wonderful rumours are so rife ?" said Katrina.
Israel bent his head and shuddered at seeing the child at the woman's feet.
"The darling is as fair as an angel," said Katrina, and she kissed Naomi.
The kiss seemed to Israel to smite his own cheeks like a blow.
Then the performances of the children began, and truly they made a pretty and affecting sight; the white walls, the deep blue sky, the black shadows of the gallery, the bright sunlight, the grown people massed around the patio, and these sweet little faces coming and going in the middle of it.

First, a line of Moorish girls in their embroidered hazzams dancing after their native fashion, bending and rising, twisting and turning, but keeping their feet in the same place constantly.

Then, a line of Jewish girls in their kilted skirts dancing after the Jewish manner tripping on their slippered toes, whirling and turning around with rapid motions, and playing timbrels and tambourines held high above their heads by their shapely arms and hands.

Then passages of the Koran chanted by a group of Moorish boys in their jellabs, purple and chocolate and white, peaked above their red tarbooshes.