Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VI. Tangiers
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120 DAYS IN THE SUN
point in the air. My eyes saw something red, like
blood, a faint purple glow seemed to hover above the
spot where the head had been.
I was speechless with astonishment, my blood was
banging away in my veins. Explanations swarmed
through my brain.
The bloody speck had just disappeared from my
eyes when I beheld the great crowd parting on one side
of the street while a fanatical figure in crouching
posture, like that of the traditional American Indian,
darted out of the circle with an ax in its hand. A
veiled Moorish woman was fleeing from this creature
in great panic. The woman became entangled in her
long head-cloth and fell to the ground with a scream.
Two men armed with heavy canes seized her pursuer
just as he was raising his ax over her head; they took
away his ax and pushed him back into the crowd. He
permitted himself to be led by them without opposi-
tion and walked along as stiffly and inanimately as a
sleep-walker. His close-shorn head hung down over
his breast and bobbed up and down with each step he
took, as if it was but loosely attached to his body; he
was covered with dark red patches: coagulated blood.
Two hours have already passed since this crowd be-
gan flowing in through the market gate, so slow is its
advance; now the crowd is directly in front of the
house on which I stand, and I can see every detail of
it. At the head of the multitude there dance a few
savage figures with open wounds on their heads, their
faces covered with blood, and blood also is on their
chests and garments. They have thin-bladed axes in
their hands, which they clash together over their heads
with the beat of the music. A few sedate—almost in-
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