A little later, however, when the Arab stirred slightly, the schoolmaster was still not
asleep. When the prisoner made a second move, he stiffened, on the alert. The Arab was
lifting himself slowly on his arms with almost the motion of a sleepwalker. Seated
upright in bed, he waited motionless without turning his head toward Daru, as if he were
listening attentively. Daru did not stir; it had just occurred to him that the revolver was
still in the drawer of his desk. It was better to act at once. Yet he continued to observe the
prisoner, who, with the same slithery motion, put his feet on the ground, waited again,
then began to stand up slowly. Daru was about to call out to him when the Arab began to
walk, in a quite natural but extraordinarily silent way. He was heading toward the door at
the end of the room that opened into the shed. He lifted the latch with precaution and
went out, pushing the door behind him but without shutting it. Daru had not stirred. "He
is running away," he merely thought. "Good riddance!" Yet he listened attentively. The
hens were not fluttering; the guest must be on the plateau. A faint sound of water reached
him, and he didn't know what it was until the Arab again stood framed in the doorway,
closed the door carefully, and came back to bed without a sound. Then Daru turned his
back on him and fell asleep. Still later he seemed, from the depths of his sleep, to hear
furtive steps around the schoolhouse. "I'm dreaming! I'm dreaming!" he repeated to
himself. And he went on sleeping.