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She looked at him steadily； but without curiosity。
〃I feel that you are happy now。〃
〃Yes； I am happy。 The world I used to know； my world and yours； would
laugh at me； would say that I was crazy； that it was a whim； that I
wished for a new sensation。 Simply it had to be。 For years I have been
tending towards itwho knows why？ Who knows what obscure influences
have been at work in me； whether there is not perhaps far back； some
faint strain of Arab blood mingled with the Sicilian blood in my
veins？ I cannot understand why。 What I can understand is that at last
I have fulfilled my destiny！ After years of unrest I am suddenly and
completely at peace。 It is a magical sensation。 I have been wandering
all my life and have come upon the open door of my home。〃
He spoke very quietly； but she heard the joy in his voice。
〃I remember you saying； 'I like to see men praying in the desert。'〃
〃Yes。 When I looked at them I was longing to be one of them。 For years
from my garden wall I watched them with a passion of envy； with
bitterness； almost with hatred sometimes。 They had something I had
not； something that set them above me； something that made their lives
plain through any complication； and that gave to death a meaning like
the meaning at the close of a great story that is going to have a
sequel。 They had faith。 And it was difficult not to hate them。 But now
I am one of them。 I can pray in the desert。〃
〃That was why you left Beni…Mora。〃
〃Yes。 I had long been wishing to become a Mohammedan。 I came here to
be with the marabout； to enter more fully into certain questions； to
see if I had any lingering doubts。〃
〃And you have none？〃
〃None。〃
She looked at his bright eyes and sighed； thinking of her husband。
〃You will go back to Beni…Mora？〃 she asked。
〃I don't think so。 I am inclined to go farther into the desert；
farther among the people of my own faith。 I don't want to be
surrounded by French。 Some day perhaps I may return。 But at present
everything draws me onward。 Tell me〃he dropped the earnest tone in
which he had been speaking； and she heard once more the easy； half…
ironical man of the world〃do you think me a half…crazy eccentric？〃
〃No！〃
〃You look at me very gravely； even sadly。〃
〃I was thinking of the men who cannot pray；〃 she said； 〃even in the
desert。〃
〃They should not come into the Garden of Allah。 Don't you remember
that day by the garden wall； when〃
He suddenly checked himself。
〃Forgive me；〃 he said simply。 〃And now tell me about yourself。 You
never wrote that you were going to be married。〃
〃I knew you would know it in timewhen we met again。〃
〃And you knew we should meet again？〃
〃Did not you？〃
He nodded。
〃In the heart of the desert。 And youwhere are you going？ You are not
returning to civilisation？〃
〃I don't know。 I have no plans。 I want to do what my husband wishes。〃
〃And he？〃
〃He loves the desert。 He has suggested our buying an oasis and setting
up as date merchants。 What do you think of the idea？〃
She spoke with a smile； but her eyes were serious； even sad。
〃I cannot judge for others；〃 he answered。
When he got up to go he held her hand fast for a moment。
〃May I speak what is in my heart？〃 he asked。
〃Yesdo。〃
〃I feel as if what I have told you to…day about myself； about my
having come to the open door of a home I had long been wearily
seeking； had made you sad。 Is it so？〃
〃Yes；〃 she answered frankly。
〃Can you tell me why？〃
〃It has made me realise more sharply than perhaps I did before what
must be the misery of those who are still homeless。〃
There was in her voice a sound as if she suppressed a sob。
〃Hope for them； remembering my many years of wandering。〃
〃Yes； yes。〃
〃Good…bye。〃
〃Will you come again？〃
〃You are here for long？〃
〃Some days； I think。〃
〃Whenever you ask me I will come。〃
〃I want you and my husband to meet again。 I want that very much。〃 She
spoke with a pressure of eagerness。
〃Send for me and I will come at any hour。〃
〃I will sendsoon。〃
When he was gone； Domini sat in the shadow of the tent。 From where she
was she could see the Arab cemetery at a little distance； a quantity
of stones half drowned in the sand。 An old Arab was wandering there
alone； praying for the dead in a loud； persistent voice。 Sometimes he
paused by a grave； bowed himself in prayer； then rose and walked on
again。 His voice was never silent。 The sound of it was plaintive and
monotonous。 Domini listened to it； and thought of homeless men； of
those who had lived and died without ever coming to that open door
through which Count Anteoni had entered。 His words and the changed
look in his face had made a deep impression upon her。 She realised
that in the garden； when they were together； his eyes； even when they
twinkled with the slightly ironical humour peculiar to him； had always
held a shadow。 Now that shadow was lifted out of them。 How deep was
the shadow in her husband's eyes。 How deep had it been in the eyes of
her father。 He had died with that terrible darkness in his eyes and in
his soul。 If her husband were to die thus！ A terror came upon her。 She
looked out at the stones in the sand and imagined herself thereas
the old Arab waspraying for Androvsky buried there； hidden from her
on earth for ever。 And suddenly she felt； 〃I cannot wait； I must act。〃
Her faith was deep and strong。 Nothing could shake it。 But might it
not shake the doubt from another's soul； as a great； pure wind shakes
leaves that are dead from a tree that will blossom with the spring？
Hitherto a sense of intense delicacy had prevented her from ever
trying to draw near definitely to her husband's sadness。 But her
interview with Count Anteoni； and the sound of this voice praying；
praying for the dead men in the sand； stirred her to an almost fierce
resolution。 She had given herself to Androvsky。 He had given himself
to her。 They were one。 She had a right to draw near to his pain； if by
so doing there was a chance that she might bring balm to it。 She had a
right to look closer into his eyes if hers； full of faith； could lift
the shadow from them。
She leaned back in the darkness of the tent。 The old Arab had wandered
further on among the graves。 His voice was faint in the sand； faint
and surely piteous； as if； even while he prayed； he felt that his
prayers were useless； that the fate of the dead was pronounced beyond
recall。 Domini listened to him no more。 She was praying for the living
as she had never prayed before； and her prayer was the prelude not to
patience but to action。 It was as if her conversation with Count
Anteoni had set a torch to something in her soul； something that gave
out a great flame； a flame that could surely burn up the sorrow； the
fear； the secret torture in her husband's soul。 All the strength of
her character had been roused by the sight of the peace she desired
for the man she loved； enthroned in the heart of this other man who
was only her friend。
The voice of the old Arab died away in the distance； but before it
died away Domini had ceased from hearing it。
She heard only a voice within her； which said to her； 〃If you really
love be fearless。 Attack this sorrow which stands like a figure of
death between you and your husband。 Drive it away。 You have a weapon
faith。 Use it。〃
It seemed to her then that through all their intercourse she had been
a coward in her love； and she resolved that she would be a coward no
longer。
CHAPTER XXV
Domini had said to herself that she would speak to her husband that
night。 She was resolved not to hesitate； not to be influenced from her
purpose by anything。 Yet she knew that a great difficulty would stand
in her waythe difficulty of Androvsky's intense； almost passionate；
reserve。 This reserve was the dominant characteristic in his nature。
She thought of it sometimes as a wall of fire that he had set round
about the secret places of his soul to protect them even from her
eyes。 Perhaps it was strange that she； a woman of a singularly frank
temperament； should be attracted by reserve in another； yet she knew
that she was so attracted by the reserve of her husband。 Its existence
hinted to her depths in him which； perhaps； some day she might sound；
she alone； strength which was hidden for her some day to prove。
Now； alone with her purpose； she thought of this reserve。 Would she be
able to break it down with her love？ For an instant she felt as if she
were about to enter upon a contest with her husband； but she did not
coldly tell over her armoury and select weapons。 There was a heat of
purpose within her that beckoned her to the unthinking； to the
reckless way； that told her to be self…reliant and to trust to the
moment for the method。
When Androvsky returned to the camp it was towards evening。 A lemon
light was falling over the great white spaces of the sand。 Upon their
little round hills the Arab villages glowed mysteriously。 Many
horsemen were riding forth from the city to take the cool of the
approaching night。 From the desert the caravans were coming in。 The
nomad children played； half…naked； at Cora before the tents； calling
shrilly to each other through the light silenc