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prayer had stirred them to a young longing for excess。 The spirit of
emulation flickered through them and turned their worship into war。
In a second and smaller court before the portal of the mosque men were
learning the Koran。 Dressed in white they sat in circles； holding
squares of some material that looked like cardboard covered with
minute Arab characters； pretty； symmetrical curves and lines； dots and
dashes。 The teachers squatted in the midst； expounding the sacred text
in nasal voices with a swiftness and vivacity that seemed pugnacious。
There was violence within these courts。 Domini could imagine the
worshippers springing up from their knees to tear to pieces an
intruding dog of an unbeliever； then sinking to their knees again
while the blood trickled over the sun…dried pavement and the lifeless
body； lay there to rot and draw the flies。
〃Allah！ Allah！ Allah！〃
There was something imperious in such ardent； such concentrated and
untiring worship； a demand which surely could not be overlooked or set
aside。 The tameness； the half…heartedness of Western prayer and
Western praise had no place here。 This prayer was hot as the sunlight；
this praise was a mounting fire。 The breath of this human incense was
as the breath of a furnace pouring forth to the gates of the Paradise
of Allah。 It gave to Domini a quite new conception of religion； of the
relation between Creator and created。 The personal pride which； like
blood in a body； runs through all the veins of the mind of
Mohammedanism； that measureless hauteur which sets the soul of a
Sultan in the twisted frame of a beggar at a street corner； and makes
impressive； even almost majestical； the filthy marabout； quivering
with palsy and devoured by disease； who squats beneath a holy bush
thick with the discoloured rags of the faithful； was not abased at the
shrine of the warrior； Zerzour； was not cast off in the act of
adoration。 These Arabs humbled themselves in the body。 Their foreheads
touched the stones。 By their attitudes they seemed as if they wished
to make themselves even with the ground； to shrink into the space
occupied by a grain of sand。 Yet they were proud in the presence of
Allah； as if the firmness of their belief in him and his right
dealing； the fury of their contempt and hatred for those who looked
not towards Mecca nor regarded Ramadan； gave them a patent of
nobility。 Despite their genuflections they were all as men who knew；
and never forgot； that on them was conferred the right to keep on
their head…covering in the presence of their King。 With their closed
eyes they looked God full in the face。 Their dull and growling murmur
had the majesty of thunder rolling through the sky。
Mustapha had disappeared within the mosque； leaving Domini and
Androvsky for the moment alone in the midst of the worshippers。 From
the shadowy interior came forth a ceaseless sound of prayer to join
the prayer without。 There was a narrow stone seat by the mosque door
and she sat down upon it。 She felt suddenly weary； as one being
hypnotised feels weary when the body and spirit begin to yield to the
spell of the operator。 Androvsky remained standing。 His eyes were
fixed on the ground； and she thought his face looked almost phantom…
like； as if the blood had sunk away from it； leaving it white beneath
the brown tint set there by the sun。 He stayed quite still。 The dark
shadow cast by the towering mosque fell upon him； and his immobile
figure suggested to her ranges of infinite melancholy。 She sighed as
one oppressed。 There was an old man praying near them at the threshold
of the door； with his face turned towards the interior。 He was very
thin； almost a skeleton； was dressed in rags through which his copper…
coloured body； sharp with scarce…covered bones； could be seen； and had
a scanty white beard sticking up； like a brush； at the tip of his
pointed chin。 His face； worn with hardship and turned to the likeness
of parchment by time and the action of the sun； was full of senile
venom； and his toothless mouth； with its lips folded inwards； moved
perpetually； as if he were trying to bite。 With rhythmical regularity；
like one obeying a conductor； he shot forth his arms towards the
mosque as if he wished to strike it； withdrew them； paused； then shot
them forth again。 And as his arms shot forth he uttered a prolonged
and trembling shriek； full of weak； yet intense； fury。
He was surely crying out upon God； denouncing God for the evils that
had beset his nearly ended life。 Poor； horrible old man！ Androvsky was
closer to him than she was； but did not seem to notice him。 Once she
had seen him she could not take her eyes from him。 His perpetual
gesture； his perpetual shriek； became abominable to her in the midst
of the bowing bodies and the humming voices of prayer。 Each time he
struck at the mosque and uttered his piercing cry she seemed to hear
an oath spoken in a sanctuary。 She longed to stop him。 This one
blasphemer began to destroy for her the mystic atmosphere created by
the multitudes of adorers； and at last she could no longer endure his
reiterated enmity。
She touched Androvsky's arm。 He started and looked at her。
〃That old man；〃 she whispered。 〃Can't you speak to him？〃
Androvsky glanced at him for the first time。
〃Speak to him； Madame？ Why？〃
〃Hehe's horrible！〃
She felt a sudden disinclination to tell Androvsky why the old man was
horrible to her。
〃What do you wish me to say to him？〃
〃I thought perhaps you might be able to stop him from doing that。〃
Androvsky bent down and spoke to the old man in Arabic。
He shot out his arms and reiterated his trembling shriek。 It pierced
the sound of prayer as lightning pierces cloud。
Domini got up quickly。
〃I can't bear it；〃 she said； still in a whisper。 〃It's as if he were
cursing God。〃
Androvsky looked at the old man again； this time with profound
attention。
〃Isn't it？〃 she said。 〃Isn't it as if he were cursing God while the
whole world worshipped？ And that one cry of hatred seems louder than
the praises of the whole world。〃
〃We can't stop it。〃
Something in his voice made her say abruptly：
〃Do you wish to stop it？〃
He did not answer。 The old man struck at the mosque and shrieked。
Domini shuddered。
〃I can't stay here；〃 she said。
At this moment Mustapha appeared； followed by the guardian of the
mosque； who carried two pairs of tattered slippers。
〃Monsieur and Madame must take off their boots。 Then I will show the
mosque。〃
Domini put on the slippers hastily； and went into the mosque without
waiting to see whether Androvsky was following。 And the old man's
furious cry pursued her through the doorway。
Within there was space and darkness。 The darkness seemed to be
praying。 Vistas of yellowish…white arches stretched away in front； to
right and left。 On the floor； covered with matting； quantities of
shrouded figures knelt and swayed； stood up suddenly； knelt again；
bowed down their foreheads。 Preceded by Mustapha and the guide； who
walked on their stockinged feet； Domini slowly threaded her way among
them； following a winding path whose borders were praying men。 To
prevent her slippers from falling off she had to shuffle along without
lifting her feet from the ground。 With the regularity of a beating
pulse the old man's shriek； fainter now； came to her from without。 But
presently； as she penetrated farther into the mosque； it was swallowed
up by the sound of prayer。 No one seemed to see her or to know that
she was there。 She brushed against the white garments of worshippers；
and when she did so she felt as if she touched the hem of the garments
of mystery； and she held her habit together with her hands lest she
should recall even one of these hearts that were surely very far off。
Mustapha and the guardian stood still and looked round at Domini。
Their faces were solemn。 The expression of greedy anxiety had gone out
of Mustapha's eyes。 For the moment the thought of money had been
driven out of his mind by some graver pre…occupation。 She saw in the
semi…darkness two wooden doors set between pillars。 They were painted
green and red； and fastened with clamps and bolts of hammered copper
that looked enormously old。 Against them were nailed two pictures of
winged horses with human heads； and two more pictures representing a
fantastical town of Eastern houses and minarets in gold on a red
background。 Balls of purple and yellow glass； and crystal chandeliers；
hung from the high ceiling above these doors； with many ancient lamps；
and two tattered and dusty banners of pale pink and white silk；
fringed with gold and powdered with a gold pattern of flowers； were
tied to the pillars with thin cords of camel's hair。
〃This is the tomb of Sidi…Zerzour；〃 whispered Mustapha。 〃It is opened
once a year。〃
The guardian of the mosque fell on his knees before the tomb。
〃That is Mecca。〃
Mustapha pointed to the pictures of the city。 Then he； too； dropped
down and pressed his forehead against the matting。 Domini glanced
round for Androvsky。 He was not there。 She stood alone before the tomb
of Zerzour； the only human being in the great； dim building who was
not worshipping。 And she felt a terr