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that dreamed； perhaps； of distant things。 But now that she danced that
fled； and the gleam of flame…lit steel was in her eyes。
Tangled and vital impressions came to Domini as she watched。 Now she
saw Jael and the tent； and the nails driven into the temples of the
sleeping warrior。 Now she saw Medea in the moment before she tore to
pieces her brother and threw the bloody fragments in Aetes's path；
Clytemnestra's face while Agamemnon was passing to the bath； Delilah's
when Samson lay sleeping on her knee。 But all these imagined faces of
named women fled like sand grains on a desert wind as the dance went
on and the recurrent melody came back and back and back with a savage
and glorious persistence。 They were too small； too individual； and
pinned the imagination down too closely。 This dagger dance let in upon
her a larger atmosphere； in which one human being was as nothing； even
a goddess or a siren prodigal of enchantments was a little thing not
without a narrow meanness of physiognomy。
She looked and listened till she saw a grander procession troop by；
garlanded with mystery and triumph： War as a shape with woman's eyes：
Night； without poppies； leading the stars and moon and all the
vigorous dreams that must come true： Love of woman that cannot be set
aside； but will govern the world from Eden to the abyss into which the
nations fall to the outstretched hands of God： Death as Life's leader；
with a staff from which sprang blossoms red as the western sky： Savage
Fecundity that crushes all barren things into the silent dust： and
then the Desert。
That came in a pale cloud of sand； with a pale crowd of worshippers；
those who had received gifts from the Desert's hands and sought for
more： white…robed Marabouts who had found Allah in his garden and
become a guide to the faithful through all the circling years：
murderers who had gained sanctuary with barbaric jewels in their
blood…stained hands： once tortured men and women who had cast away
terrible recollections in the wastes among the dunes and in the
treeless purple distances； and who had been granted the sweet oases of
forgetfulness to dwell in： ardent beings who had striven vainly to
rest content with the world of hills and valleys； of sea…swept verges
and murmuring rivers； and who had been driven； by the labouring soul；
on and on towards the flat plains where roll for ever the golden
wheels of the chariot of the sun。 She saw； too； the winds that are the
Desert's best…loved children： Health with shining eyes and a skin of
bronze： Passion； half faun； half black…browed Hercules： and Liberty
with upraised arms； beating cymbals like monstrous spheres of fire。
And she saw palm trees waving； immense palm trees in the south。 It
seemed to her that she travelled as far away from Beni…Mora as she had
travelled from England in coming to Beni…Mora。 She made her way
towards the sun； joining the pale crowd of the Desert's worshippers。
And always； as she travelled； she heard the clashing of the cymbals of
Liberty。 A conviction was born in her that Fate meant her to know the
Desert well； strangely well； that the Desert was waiting calmly for
her to come to it and receive that which it had to give to her； that
in the Desert she would learn more of the meaning of life than she
could ever learn elsewhere。 It seemed to her suddenly that she
understood more clearly than hitherto in what lay the intense； the
over…mastering and hypnotic attraction exercised already by the Desert
over her nature。 In the Desert there must be； there wasshe felt it
not only light to warm the body； but light to illuminate the dark
places of the soul。 An almost fatalistic idea possessed her。 She saw a
figureone of the Messengersstanding with her beside the corpse of
her father and whispering in her ear 〃Beni…Mora〃； taking her to the
map and pointing to the word there； filling her brain and heart with
suggestions； tillas she had thought almost without reason； and at
haphazardshe chose Beni…Mora as the place to which she would go in
search of recovery； of self…knowledge。 It had been pre…ordained。 The
Messenger had been sent。 The Messenger had guided her。 And he would
come again； when the time was ripe； and lead her on into the Desert。
She felt it。 She knew it。
She looked round at the Arabs。 She was as much a fatalist as any one
of them。 She looked at the stranger。 What was he？
Abruptly in her imagination a vision rose。 She gazed once more into
the crowd that thronged about the Desert having received gifts at the
Desert's hands； and in it she saw the stranger。
He was kneeling； his hands were stretched out； his head was bowed； and
he was praying。 And； while he prayed； Liberty stood by him smiling；
and her fiery cymbals were like the aureoles that illumine the
beautiful faces of the saints。
For some reason that she could not understand her heart began to beat
fast； and she felt a burning sensation behind her eyes。
She thought that this extraordinary music； that this amazing dance；
excited her too much。
The white bundle at Suzanne's side stirred。 Irena； holding the daggers
above her head； had sprung from the little platform and was dancing on
the earthen floor in the midst of the Arabs。
Her thin body shook convulsively in time to the music。 She marked the
accents with her shudders。 Excitement had grown in her till she seemed
to be in a feverish passion that was half exultant； half despairing。
In her expression； in her movements； in the way she held herself；
leaning backwards with her face looking up； her breast and neck
exposed as if she offered her life； her love and all the mysteries in
her； to an imagined being who dominated her savage and ecstatic soul；
there was a vivid suggestion of the two elements in Passionrapture
and melancholy。 In her dance she incarnated passion whole by conveying
the two halves that compose it。 Her eyes were nearly closed； as a
woman closes them when she has seen the lips of her lover descending
upon hers。 And her mouth seemed to be receiving the fiery touch of
another mouth。 In this moment she was a beautiful woman because she
looked like womanhood。 And Domini understood why the Arabs thought her
more beautiful than the other dancers。 She had what they had not
genius。 And genius； under whatever form； shows to the world at moments
the face of Aphrodite。
She came slowly nearer； and those by the platform turned round to
follow her with their eyes。 Hadj's hood had slipped completely down
over his face； and his chin was sunk on his chest。 Batouch noticed it
and looked angry； but Domini had forgotten both the comedy of the two
cousins and the tragedy of Irena's love for Hadj。 She was completely
under the fascination of this dance and of the music that accompanied
it。 Now that Irena was near she was able to see that； without her
genius； there would have been no beauty in her face。 It was painfully
thin； painfully long and haggard。 Her life had written a fatal
inscription across it as their life writes upon the faces of poor
street…bred children the one wordWant。 As they have too little this
dancing woman had had too much。 The sparkle of her robe of gold tissue
covered with golden coins was strong in the lamplight。 Domini looked
at it and at the two sharp knives above her head； looked at her
violent； shuddering movements； and shuddered too； thinking of
Batouch's story of murdered dancers。 It was dangerous to have too much
in Beni…Mora。
Irena was quite close now。 She seemed so wrapped in the ecstasy of the
dance that it did not occur to Domini at first that she was imitating
the Ouled Nail who had laid her greasy head upon the stranger's knees。
The abandonment of her performance was so great that it was difficult
to remember its money value to her and to Tahar； the fair Kabyle。 Only
when she was actually opposite to them and stayed there； still
performing her shuddering dance； still holding the daggers above her
head； did Domini realise that those half…closed； passionate eyes had
marked the stranger woman； and that she must add one to the stream of
golden coins。 She took out her purse but did not give the money at
once。 With the pitiless scrutiny of her sex she noticed all the
dancer's disabilities。 She was certainly young； but she was very worn。
Her mouth drooped。 At the corners of her eyes there were tiny lines
tending downward。 Her forehead had what Domini secretly called a
martyred look。 Nevertheless； she was savage and triumphant。 Her thin
body suggested force； the way she held herself consuming passion。 Even
so near at hand； even while she was pausing for money； and while her
eyes were； doubtless； furtively reading Domini； she shed round her a
powerful atmosphere； which stirred the blood； and made the heart leap；
and created longing for unknown and violent things。 As Domini watched
her she felt that Irena must have lived at moments magnificently； that
despite her almost shattered condition and permanent wearinessonly
cast aside for the moment of the danceshe must have known intense
joys； that so long as she lived she would possess the capacity for
knowing them again。 There was something burning within her that would
burn on so long as she was alive； a sp