midnight
Soon they faded . The lights went out , and the wonderful silence of night in the desert came in to its heritage . I sat on the edge of an old stone well before the Bordj , while Safti smoked his keef . Near midnight , quivering across the sands , came the faint sound of a flute moving from the village towards the deep obscurity of the palm gardens . I knew that air , those trills , those little runs , those grace notes . `` It is Smaïn , '' I said to Safti . `` Yes , Sidi .