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grains； Domini saw his lean face pitted with small…pox； his eyes；
blazing with an intelligence that was demoniacal； fixed upon her； the
long wound that stretched from his cheek to his forehead。 The pleading
that had been mingled with the almost tyrannical command of his
demeanour had vanished now。 He looked ferocious； arbitrary； like a
savage of genius full of some frightful message of warning or rebuke。
As the camel rose he cried aloud some words in Arabic。 Domini heard
his voice； but could not understand the words。 Laying his hands on the
stuff of the palanquin he shouted again； then took away his hands and
shook them above his head towards the desert； still staring at Domini
with his fanatical eyes。
The wind shrieked； the sand grains whirled in spirals about his body；
the camel began to move away from the church slowly towards the
village。
〃A…ah！〃 cried the camel…driver。 〃A…ah！〃
In the storm his call sounded like a wail of despair。
CHAPTER XVII
As the voice of the Diviner fainted away on the wind； and the vision
of his wounded face and piercing eyes was lost in the whirling sand
grains； Androvsky stretched out his hand and drew together the heavy
curtains of the palanquin。 The world was shut out。 They were alone for
the first time as man and wife； moving deliberately on this beast they
could not see； but whose slow and monotonous gait swung them gently to
and fro； out from the last traces of civilisation into the life of the
sands。 With each soft step the camel took they went a little farther
from Beni…Mora； came a little nearer to that liberty of which Domini
sometimes dreamed； to the smiling eyes and the lifted spheres of fire。
She shut her eyes now。 She did not want to see her husband or to touch
his hand。 She did not want to speak。 She only wanted to feel in the
uttermost depths of her spirit this movement； steady and persistent；
towards the goal of her earthly desires； to realise absolutely the
marvellous truth that after years of lovelessness； and a dreaminess
more benumbing than acute misery； happiness more intense than any she
had been able to conceive of in her moments of greatest yearning was
being poured into her heart； that she was being taken to the place
where she would be with the one human being whose presence blotted out
even the memory of the false world and gave to her the true。 And
whereas in the dead years she had sometimes been afraid of feeling too
much the emptiness and the desolation of her life； she was now afraid
of feeling too little its fulness and its splendour； was afraid of
some day looking back to this superb moment of her earthly fate； and
being conscious that she had not grasped its meaning till it was gone；
that she had done that most terrible of all thingsrealised that she
had been happy to the limits of her capacity for happiness only when
her happiness was numbered with the past。
But could that ever be？ Was Time； such Time as this； not Eternity？
Could such earthly things as this intense joy ever have been and no
longer be？ It seemed to her that it could not be so。 She felt like one
who held Eternity's hand； and went out with that great guide into the
endlessness of supreme perfection。 For her； just then； the Creator's
scheme was rounded to a flawless circle。 All things fell into order；
stars and men； the silent growing things； the seas； the mountains and
the plains； fell into order like a vast choir to obey the command of
the canticle： Benedicite； omnia opera！〃
〃Bless ye the Lord！〃 The roaring of the wind about the palanquin
became the dominant voice of this choir in Domini's ears。
〃Bless ye the Lord！〃 It was obedient； not as the slave； but as the
free will is obedient； as her heart； which joined its voice with this
wind of the desert was obedient； because it gloriously chose with all
its powers； passions； aspirations to be so。 The real obedience is only
love fulfilling its last desire； and this great song was the
fulfilling of the last desire of all created things。 Domini knew that
she did not realise the joy of this moment of her life now when she
felt no longer that she was a woman； but only that she was a living
praise winging upward to God。
A warm； strong hand clasped hers。 She opened her eyes。 In the dim
twilight of the palanquin she saw the darkness of Androvsky's tall
figure sitting in the crouched attitude rendered necessary by the
peculiar seat； and swaying slightly to the movement of the camel。 The
light was so obscure that she could not see his eyes or clearly
discern his features； but she felt that he was gazing at her shadowy
figure； that his mind was passionately at work。 Had he； too； been
silently praising God for his happiness； and was he now wishing the
body to join in the soul's delight？
She left her hand in his passively。 The sense of her womanhood； lost
for a moment in the ecstasy of worship； had returned to her； but with
a new and tremendous meaning which seemed to change her nature。
Androvsky forcibly pressed her hand with his； let it go； then pressed
it again； repeating the action with a regularity that seemed suggested
by some guidance。 She imagined him pressing her hand each time his
heart pulsed。 She did not want to return the pressure。 As she felt his
hand thus closing and unclosing over hers； she was conscious that she；
who in their intercourse had played a dominant part； who had even
deliberately brought about that intercourse by her action on the
tower； now longed to be passive and； forgetting her own power and the
strength and force of her nature； to lose herself in the greater
strength and force of this man to whom she had given herself。 Never
before had she wished to be anything but strong。 Nor did she desire
weakness now； but only that his nature should rise above hers with
eagle's wings； that when she looked up she should see him； never when
she looked down。 She thought that to see him below her would kill her；
and she opened her lips to say so。 But something in the windy darkness
kept her silent。 The heavy curtains of the palanquin shook
perpetually； and the tall wooden rods on which they were slung
creaked； making a small； incessant noise like a complaining； which
joined itself with the more distant but louder noise made by the
leaves of the thousands of palm trees dashed furiously together。 From
behind came the groaning of one of the camels； borne on the gusts of
the wind； and faint sounds of the calling voices of the Arabs who
accompanied them。 It was not a time to speak。
She wondered where they were； in what part of the oasis； whether they
had yet gained the beginning of the great route which had always
fascinated her； and which was now the road to the goal of all her
earthly desires。 But there was nothing to tell her。 She travelled in a
world of dimness and the roar of wind； and in this obscurity and
uproar； combined with perpetual though slight motion； she lost all
count of time。 She had no idea how long it was since she had come out
of the church door with Androvsky。 At first she thought it was only a
few minutes； and that the camels must be just coming to the statue of
the Cardinal。 Then she thought that it might be an hour； even more；
that Count Anteoni's garden was long since left behind； and that they
were passing； perhaps； along the narrow streets of the village of old
Beni…Mora； and nearing the edge of the oasis。 But even in this
confusion of mind she felt that something would tell her when the last
palms had vanished in the sand mist and the caravan came out into the
desert。 The sound of the wind would surely be different when they met
it on the immense flats； where there was nothing to break its fury。 Or
even if it were not different； she felt that she would know； that the
desert would surely speak to her in the moment when； at last； it took
her to itself。 It could not be that they would be taken by the desert
and she not know it。 But she wanted Androvsky to know it too。 For she
felt that the moment when the desert took them； man and wife； would be
a great moment in their lives； greater even than that in which they
met as they came into the blue country。 And she set herself to listen；
with a passionate expectation； with an attention so close and
determined that it thrilled her body； and even affected her muscles。
What she was listening for was a rising of the wind； a crescendo of
its voice。 She was anticipating a triumphant cry from the Sahara；
unlimited power made audible in a sound like the blowing of the
clarion of the sands。
Androvsky's hand was still on hers； but now it did not move as if
obeying the pulsations of his heart。 It held hers closely； warmly； and
sent his strength to her； and presently； for an instant； taking her
mind from the desert； she lost herself in the mystery and the wonder
of human companionship。 She realised that the touch of Androvsky's
hand on hers altered for her herself； and the whole universe as it was
presented to her； as she observed and felt it。 Nothing remained as it
was when he did not touch her。 There was something stupefying in the
thought； something almost terrible。 The wonder that is alive in the
tiny things of love； and that makes tremend