the garden of allah-第17章

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pretty　curves　with　interest。

〃Oh；　yes；　I　am　more　than　half　African；　though　my　father　was　a　Sicilian
and　my　mother　a　Roman。〃

He　gave　her　the　card；　took　off　his　hat　and　bowed。　When　the　tall　white
door　was　softly　shut　by　Smain；　Domini　felt　rather　like　a　new　Eve
expelled　from　Paradise；　without　an　Adam　as　a　companion　in　exile。

〃Well；　Madame？〃　said　Batouch。　〃Have　I　spoken　the　truth？〃

〃Yes。　No　European　garden　can　be　so　beautiful　as　that。　Now　I　am　going
straight　home。〃

She　smiled　to　herself　as　she　said　the　last　word。

Outside　the　hotel　they　found　Hadj　looking　ferocious。　He　exchanged　some
words　with　Batouch；　accompanying　them　with　violent　gestures。　When　he
had　finished　speaking　he　spat　upon　the　ground。

〃What　is　the　matter　with　him？〃　Domini　asked。

〃The　Monsieur　who　is　staying　here　would　not　take　him　to…day；　but　went
into　the　desert　alone。　Hadj　wishes　that　the　nomads　may　cut　his　throat；
and　that　his　flesh　may　be　eaten　by　jackals。　Hadj　is　sure　that　he　is　a
bad　man　and　will　come　to　a　bad　end。〃

〃Because　he　does　not　want　a　guide　every　day！　But　neither　shall　I。〃

〃Madame　is　quite　different。　I　would　give　my　life　for　Madame。〃

〃Don't　do　that；　but　go　this　afternoon　and　find　me　a　horse。　I　don't
want　a　quiet　one；　but　something　with　devil；　something　that　a　Spahi
would　like　to　ride。〃

The　desert　spirits　were　speaking　to　her　body　as　well　as　to　her　mind。　A
physical　audacity　was　stirring　in　her；　and　she　longed　to　give　it　vent。

〃Madame　is　like　the　lion。　She　is　afraid　of　nothing。〃

〃You　speak　without　knowing；　Batouch。　Don't　come　for　me　this　afternoon；
but　bring　round　a　horse；　if　you　can　find　one；　to…morrow　morning。〃

〃This　very　evening　I　will〃

〃No；　Batouch。　I　said　to…morrow　morning。〃

She　spoke　with　a　quiet　but　inflexible　decision　which　silenced　him。
Then　she　gave　him　ten　francs　and　went　into　the　dark　house；　from　which
the　burning　noonday　sun　was　carefully　excluded。　She　intended　to　rest
after　/dejeuner/；　and　towards　sunset　to　go　to　the　big　hotel　and　mount
alone　to　the　summit　of　the　tower。

It　was　half…past　twelve；　and　a　faint　rattle　of　knives　and　forks　from
the　/salle…a…manger/　told　her　that　/dejeuner/　was　ready。　She　went
upstairs；　washed　her　face　and　hands　in　cold　water；　stood　still　while
Suzanne　shook　the　dust　from　her　gown；　and　then　descended　to　the　public
room。　The　keen　air　had　given　her　an　appetite。

The　/salle…a…manger/　was　large　and　shady；　and　was　filled　with　small
tables；　at　only　three　of　which　were　people　sitting。　Four　French
officers　sat　together　at　one。　A　small；　fat；　perspiring　man　of　middle
age；　probably　a　commercial　traveller；　who　had　eyes　like　a　melancholy
toad；　was　at　another；　eating　olives　with　anxious　rapidity；　and　wiping
his　forehead　perpetually　with　a　dirty　white　handkerchief。　At　the　third
was　the　priest　with　whom　Domini　had　spoken　in　the　church。　His　napkin
was　tucked　under　his　beard；　and　he　was　drinking　soup　as　he　bent　well
over　his　plate。

A　young　Arab　waiter；　with　a　thin；　dissipated　face；　stood　near　the　door
in　bright　yellow　slippers。　When　Domini　came　in　he　stole　forward　to
show　her　to　her　table；　making　a　soft；　shuffling　sound　on　the　polished
wooden　floor。　The　priest　glanced　up　over　his　napkin；　rose　and　bowed。
The　French　officers　stared　with　an　interest　they　were　too　chivalrous
to　attempt　to　conceal。　Only　the　fat　little　man　was　entirely
unconcerned。　He　wiped　his　forehead；　stuck　his　fork　deftly　into　an
olive；　and　continued　to　look　like　a　melancholy　toad　entangled　by　fate
in　commercial　pursuits。

Domini's　table　was　by　a　window；　across　which　green　Venetian　shutters
were　drawn。　It　was　at　a　considerable　distance　from　the　other　guests；
who　did　not　live　in　the　house；　but　came　there　each　day　for　their
meals。　Near　it　she　noticed　a　table　laid　for　one　person；　and　so
arranged　that　if　he　came　to　/dejeuner/　he　would　sit　exactly　opposite
to　her。　She　wondered　if　it　was　for　the　man　at　whom　she　had　just　been
looking　through　Count　Anteoni's　field…glasses；　the　man　who　had　fled
from　prayer　in　the　〃Garden　of　Allah。〃　As　she　glanced　at　the　empty
chair　standing　before　the　knives　and　forks；　and　the　white　cloth；　she
was　uncertain　whether　she　wished　it　to　be　filled　by　the　traveller　or
not。　She　felt　his　presence　in　Beni…Mora　as　a　warring　element。　That　she
knew。　She　knew　also　that　she　had　come　there　to　find　peace；　a　great
calm　and　remoteness　in　which　she　could　at　last　grow；　develop；　loose
her　true　self　from　cramping　bondage；　come　to　an　understanding　with
herself；　face　her　heart　and　soul；　andas　it　werelook　them　in　the
eyes　and　know　them　for　what　they　were；　good　or　evil。　In　the　presence
of　this　total　stranger　there　was　something　unpleasantly　distracting
which　she　could　not　and　did　not　ignore；　something　which　roused　her
antagonism　and　which　at　the　same　time　compelled　her　attention。　She　had
been　conscious　of　it　in　the　train；　conscious　of　it　in　the　tunnel　at
twilight；　at　night　in　the　hotel；　and　once　again　in　Count　Anteoni's
garden。　This　man　intruded　himself；　no　doubt　unconsciously；　or　even
against　his　will；　into　her　sight；　her　thoughts；　each　time　that　she　was
on　the　point　of　giving　herself　to　what　Count　Anteoni　called　〃the
desert　spirits。〃　So　it　had　been　when　the　train　ran　out　of　the　tunnel
into　the　blue　country。　So　it　had　been　again　when　she　leaned　on　the
white　wall　and　gazed　out　over　the　shining　fastnesses　of　the　sun。　He
was　there　like　an　enemy；　like　something　determined；　egoistical；　that
said　to　her；　〃You　would　look　at　the　greatness　of　the　desert；　at
immensity；　infinity；　God！Look　at　me。〃　And　she　could　not　turn　her
eyes　away。　Each　time　the　man　had；　as　if　without　effort；　conquered　the
great　competing　power；　fastened　her　thoughts　upon　himself；　set　her
imagination　working　about　his　life；　even　made　her　heart　beat　faster
with　some　thrill　ofwhat？　Was　it　pity？　Was　it　a　faint　horror？　She
knew　that　to　call　the　feeling　merely　repugnance　would　not　be　sincere。
The　intensity；　the　vitality　of　the　force　shut　up　in　a　human　being
almost　angered　her　at　this　moment　as　she　looked　at　the　empty　chair　and
realised　all　that　it　had　suddenly　set　at　work。　There　was　something
insolent　in　humanity　as　well　as　something　divine；　and　just　then　she
felt　the　insolence　more　than　the　divinity。　Terrifically　greater；　more
overpowering　than　man；　the　desert　was　yet　also　somehow　less　than　man；
feebler；　vaguer。　Or　else　how　could　she　have　been　grasped；　moved；
turned　to　curiosity；　surmise；　almost　to　a　sort　of　dreadall　at　the
desert's　expenseby　the　distant　moving　figure　seen　through　the
glasses？

Yes；　as　she　looked　at　the　little　white　table　and　thought　of　all　this；
Domini　began　to　feel　angry。　But　she　was　capable　of　effort；　whether
mental　or　physical；　and　now　she　resolutely　switched　her　mind　off　from
the　antagonistic　stranger　and　devoted　her　thoughts　to　the　priest；
whose　narrow　back　she　saw　down　the　room　in　the　distance。　As　she　ate
her　fisha　mystery　of　the　seas　of　Robertvilleshe　imagined　his　quiet
existence　in　this　remote　place；　sunny　day　succeeding　sunny　day；　each
one　surely　so　like　its　brother　that　life　must　become　a　sort　of　dream；
through　which　the　voice　of　the　church　bell　called　melodiously　and　the
incense　rising　before　the　altar　shed　a　drowsy　perfume。　How　strange　it
must　be　really　to　live　in　Beni…Mora；　to　have　your　house；　your　work
here；　your　friendships　here；　your　duties　here；　perhaps　here　too　the
tiny　section　of　earth　which　would　hold　at　the　last　your　body。　It　must
be　strange　and　monotonous；　and　yet　surely　rather　sweet；　rather　safe。

The　officers　lifted　their　heads　from　their　plates；　the　fat　man　stared；
the　priest　looked　quietly　up　over　his　napkin；　and　the　Arab　waiter
slipped　forward　with　attentive　haste。　For　the　swing　door　of　the
/salle…a…manger/　at　this　moment　was　pushed　open；　and　the　travellerso
Domini　called　him　in　her　thoughtsentered　and　stood　looking　with
hesitation　from　one　table　to　another。

Domini　did　not　glance　up。　She　knew　who　it　was　and　kept　her　eyes
resolutely　on　her　plate。　She　heard　the　Arab　speak；　a　loud　noise　of
stout　boots　tramping　over　the　wooden　floor；　and　the　creak　of　a　chair
receiving　a　surely　tired　body。　The　traveller　sat　down　heavily。　She
went　on　slowly　eating　the　large　Robertville　fish；　which　was　like
something　between　a　trout　and　a　herring。　When　she　had　finished　it　she
gazed　straight　before　her　at　the　cloth；　and　strove　to　resume　her
thoughts　of　the　priest's　life　in　Beni…Mora。　But　she　could　not。　It
seemed　to　her　as　if　she　were　back　again　in　Count　Anteoni's　garden。　She
looked　once　more　through　the　glasses；　and　heard　the　four　cries　of　the
Mueddin；　and　saw　the　pacing　figure　in　the　burning　heat；　the　Arab　bent
in　prayer；　the　one　who　watched　him；　the　flight。　And　she　was　indignant
with　herself　for　her　strange　inability　to　govern　her　mind。　It　seemed
to　her　a　pitiful　thing　of　which　she　should　be　ashamed。

She　heard　the　waiter　set　down　a　plate　upon　the　traveller's　table；　and
then　the　noise　of　a　liquid　being　poured　into　a　glass。　She　could　not
keep　her　eyes　down　any　more。　Besides；　why　should　she？　Beni…Mora　was
breeding　in　her　a　self…consciousnessor　a　too　acute　consciousness　of
othersthat　was　unnatural　in　her。　She　had　never　been　sensitive　like
this　in　her　former　life；　but　the　fierce　African　sun　seemed　now　to　have
thawed　the　ice　of　her　indifference。　She　felt　everything　with　almost
unpleasant　acuteness。　All　her　senses　seemed　to　her　sharpened。　She　saw；
she　heard；　as　she　had　never　seen　and　heard　till　now。　Suddenly　she
remembered　her　almost　violent　prayer〃Let　me　be　alive！　Let　me　feel！〃
and　she　was　aware　that　such　a　prayer　might　have　an　answer　that　would
be　terrible。

Looking　up　thus　with　a　kind　of　severe　determination；　she　saw　the　man
again。　He　was　eating　and　was　not　looking　towards　her；　and　she　fancied
that　his　eyes　were　downcast　with　as　much　conscious　resolution　as　hers
had　been　a　moment　before。　He　wore　the　same　suit　as　he　had　worn　in　the
train；　but　now　it　was　flecked　with　desert　dust。　She　could　not　〃place〃
him　at　all。　He　was　not　of　the　small；　fat　man's　order。　They　would　have
nothing　in　common。　With　the　French　officers？　She　could　not　imagine　how
he　would　be　with　them。　The　only　other　man　in　the　roomthe　servant　had
gone　out　for　the　momentwas　the　priest。　He　and　the　priestthey　would
surely　be　antagonists。　Had　he　not　turned　aside　to　avoid　the　priest　in
the　tunnel？　Probably　he　was　one　of　those　many　men　who　actively　hate
the　priesthood；　to　whom　the　soutane　is　anathema。　Could　he　find
pleasant　companionship　with　such　a　man　as　Count　Anteoni；　an　original
man；　no　doubt；　but　also　a　cultivated　and　easy　man　of　the　world？　She
smiled　internally　at　the　mere　thought。　Whatever　this　stranger　might　be
she　felt　that　he　was　as　far　from　being　a　man　of　the　world　as　she　was
from　being　a　Cockney　sempstress　or　a　veiled　favourite　in　a　harem。　She
could　not；　she　found；　imagine　him　easily　at　home　with　any　type　of
human　being　with　which　she　was　acquainted。　Yet　no　doubt；　like　all　men；
he　had　somewhere　friends；　relations；　possibly　even　a　wife；　children。

No　doubtthen　why　could　she　not　believe　it？

The　man　had　finished　his　fish。　He　rested　his　broad；　burnt　hands　on　the
table　on　each　side　of　his　plate　and　looked　at　them　steadily。　Then　he
turned　his　head　and　glanced　sideways　at　the　priest；　who　was　behind　him
to　the　right。　Then　he　looked　again　at　hi