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open air； as if the tent roof above his head oppressed him。
Trevignac turned to Domini。
〃In this case； Madame； you were the lonely watcher； and I was the
something terrible that came。〃
She laughed。 While she laughed De Trevignac noticed that Androvsky
looked at her with a sort of sad intentness； not reproachful or
wondering； as an older person might look at a child playing at the
edge of some great gulf into which a false step would precipitate it。
He strove to interpret this strange look； so obviously born in the
face of his host in connection with himself。 It seemed to him that he
must have met Androvsky； and that Androvsky knew it； knewwhat he did
not yet knowwhere it was and when。 It seemed to him； too； that
Androvsky thought of him as the 〃something terrible〃 that had come to
this woman who sat between them out of the desert。
But how could it be？
A profound curiosity was roused in him and he mentally cursed his
treacherous memoryif it were treacherous。 For possibly he might be
mistaken。 He had perhaps never met his host before； and this strange
manner of his might be due to some inexplicable cause； or perhaps to
some cause explicable and even commonplace。 This Monsieur Androvsky
might be a very jealous man； who had taken this woman away into the
desert to monopolise her； and who resented even the chance intrusion
of a stranger。 De Trevignac knew life and the strange passions of men；
knew that there are Europeans with the Arab temperament； who secretly
long that their women should wear the veil and live secluded in the
harem。 Androvsky might be one of these。
When she had laughed Domini said：
〃On the contrary； Monsieur； you have turned my thoughts into a happier
current by your coming。〃
〃How so？〃
〃You made me think of what are called the little things of life that
are more to us women than to you men； I suppose。〃
〃Ah；〃 he said。 〃This food； this wine； this chair with a cushion； this
gay lightMadame； they are not little things I have to be grateful
for。 When I think of the dunes they seem to methey seem〃
Suddenly he stopped。 His gay voice was choked。 She saw that there were
tears in his blue eyes； which were fixed on her with an expression of
ardent gratitude。 He cleared his throat。
〃Monsieur；〃 he said to Androvsky； 〃you will not think me presuming on
an acquaintance formed in the desert if I say that till the end of my
life Iand my mencan only think of Madame as of the good Goddess of
the desolate Sahara！〃
He did not know how Androvsky would take this remark； he did not care。
For the moment in his impulsive nature there was room only for
admiration of the woman and； gratitude for her frank kindness。
Androvsky said：
〃Thank you； Monsieur。〃
He spoke with an intensity； even a fervour； that were startling。 For
the first time since they had been together his voice was absolutely
natural； his manner was absolutely unconstrained； he showed himself as
he was； a man on fire with love for the woman who had given herself to
him； and who received a warm word of praise of her as a gift made to
himself。 De Trevignac no longer wondered that Domini was his wife。
Those three words； and the way they were spoken； gave him the man and
what he might be in a woman's life。 Domini looked at her husband
silently。 It seemed to her as if her heart were flooded with light； as
if desolate Mogar were the Garden of Eden before the angel came。 When
they spoke again it was on some indifferent topic。 But from that
moment the meal went more merrily。 Androvsky seemed to lose his
strange uneasiness。 De Trevignac met him more than half…way。 Something
of the gaiety round the camp fire had entered into the tent。 A chain
of sympathy had been forged between these three people。 Possibly； a
touch might break it； but for the moment it seemed strong。
At the end of the dinner Domini got up。
〃We have no formalities in the desert；〃 she said。 〃But I'm going to
leave you together for a moment。 Give Monsieur de Trevignac a cigar；
Boris。 Coffee is coming directly。〃
She went out towards the camp fire。 She wanted to leave the men
together to seal their good fellowship。 Her husband's change from
taciturnity to cordiality had enchanted her。 Happiness was dancing
within her。 She felt gay as a child。 Between the fire and the tent she
met Ouardi carrying a tray。 On it were a coffee…pot； cups； little
glasses and a tall bottle of a peculiar shape with a very thin neck
and bulging sides。
〃What's that； Ouardi？〃 she asked； touching it with her finger。
〃That is an African liqueur； Madame； that you have never tasted。
Batouch told me to bring it in honour of Monsieur the officer。 They
call it〃
〃Another surprise of Batouch's！〃 she interrupted gaily。 〃Take it in！
Monsieur the officer will think we have quite a cellar in the desert。〃
He went on； and she stood for a few minutes looking at the blaze of
the fire； and at the faces lit up by it； French and Arab。 The happy
soldiers were singing a French song with a chorus for the delectation
of the Arabs； who swayed to and fro； wagging their heads and smiling
in an effort to show appreciation of the barbarous music of the
Roumis。 Dreary； terrible Mogar and its influences were being defied by
the wanderers halting in it。 She thought of Androvsky's words about
the human will overcoming the influence of place； and a sudden desire
came to her to go as far as the tower where she had felt sad and
apprehensive； to stand in its shadow for an instant and to revel in
her happiness。
She yielded to the impulse； walked to the tower； and stood there
facing the darkness which hid the dunes； the white plains； the phantom
sea； seeing them in her mind； and radiantly defying them。 Then she
began to return to the camp； walking lightly； as happy people walk。
When she had gone a very short way she heard someone coming towards
her。 It was too dark to see who it was。 She could only hear the steps
among the stones。 They were hasty。 They passed her and stopped behind
her at the tower。 She wondered who it was； and supposed it must be one
of the soldiers come to fetch something； or perhaps tired and
hastening to bed。
As she drew near to the camp she saw the lamplight shining in the
tent； where doubtless De Trevignac and Androvsky were smoking and
talking in frank good fellowship。 It was like a bright star； she
thought； that gleam of light that shone out of her home； the brightest
of all the stars of Africa。 She went towards it。 As she drew near she
expected to hear the voices of the two men； but she heard nothing。 Nor
did she see the blackness of their forms in the circle of the light。
Perhaps they had gone out to join the soldiers and the Arabs round the
fire。 She hastened on； came to the tent； entered it； and was
confronted by her husband； who was standing back in an angle formed by
the canvas； in the shadow； alone。 On the floor near him lay a quantity
of fragments of glass。
〃Boris！〃 she said。 〃Where is Monsieur de Trevignac？〃
〃Gone；〃 replied Androvsky in a loud； firm voice。
She looked up at him。 His face was grim and powerful； hard like the
face of a fighting man。
〃Gone already？ Why？〃
〃He's tired out。 He told me to make his excuses to you。〃
〃But〃
She saw in the table the coffee cups。 Two of them were full of coffee。
The third； hers； was clean。
〃But he hasn't drunk his coffee！〃 she said。
She was astonished and showed it。 She could not understand a man who
had displayed such warm； even touching； appreciation of her kindness
leaving her without a word； taking the opportunity of her momentary
absence to disappear； to shirk awayfor she put it like that to
herself。
〃Nohe did not want coffee。〃
〃But was anything the matter？〃
She looked down at the broken glass； and saw stains upon the ground
among the fragments。
〃What's this？〃 she said。 〃Oh； the African liqueur！〃
Suddenly Androvsky put his arm round her with an iron grip； and led
her away out of the tent。 They crossed the space to the sleeping…tent
in silence。 She felt governed； and as if she must yield to his will；
but she also felt confused； even almost alarmed mentally。 The
sleeping…tent was dark。 When they reached it Androvsky took his arm
from her； and she heard him searching for the matches。 She was in the
tent door and could see that there was a light in the tower。 De
Trevignac must be there already。 No doubt it was he who had passed her
in the night when she was returning to the camp。 Androvsky struck a
match and lit a candle。 Then he came to the tent door and saw her
looking at the light in the tower。
〃Come in； Domini；〃 he said； taking her by the hand； and speaking
gently； but still with a firmness that hinted at command。
She obeyed； and he quickly let down the flap of canvas； and shut out
the night。
〃What is it； Boris？〃 she asked。
She was standing by one of the beds。
〃What has happened？〃
〃Whyhappened？〃
〃I don't understand。 Why did Monsieur de Trevignac go away so
suddenly？〃
〃Domini； do you care whether he is here or gone？ Do you care？〃 He sat
on the edge of the bed and drew her down beside him。
〃Do you want anyone to be with us； to break in upon our lives？ Aren't
we happier alone？〃
〃Bor