the garden of allah-第2章

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brick　floor　was　no　longer　heaving。　Two　of　the　books　that　she　called
her　〃bed…books〃　lay　within　easy　reach　of　her　hand。　One　was　Newman's
/Dream　of　Gerontius/；　the　other　a　volume　of　the　Badminton　Library。　She
chose　the　former　and　began　to　read。

Towards　two　o'clock　she　heard　a　long…continued　rustling。　At　first　she
supposed　that　her　tired　brain　was　still　playing　her　tricks。　But　the
rustling　continued　and　grew　louder。　It　sounded　like　a　noise　coming
from　something　very　wide；　and　spread　out　as　a　veil　over　an　immense
surface。　She　got　up；　walked　across　the　floor　to　the　open　window　and
unfastened　the　/persiennes/。　Heavy　rain　was　falling。　The　night　was
very　black；　and　smelt　rich　and　damp；　as　if　it　held　in　its　arms　strange
offeringsa　merchandise　altogether　foreign；　tropical　and　alluring。　As
she　stood　there；　face　to　face　with　a　wonder　that　she　could　not　see；
Domini　forgot　Newman。　She　felt　the　brave　companionship　of　mystery。　In
it　she　divined　the　beating　pulses；　the　hot；　surging　blood　of　freedom。

She　wanted　freedom；　a　wide　horizon；　the　great　winds；　the　great　sun；
the　terrible　spaces；　the　glowing；　shimmering　radiance；　the　hot；
entrancing　moons　and　bloomy；　purple　nights　of　Africa。　She　wanted　the
nomad's　fires　and　the　acid　voices　of　the　Kabyle　dogs。　She　wanted　the
roar　of　the　tom…toms；　the　dash　of　the　cymbals；　the　rattle　of　the
negroes'　castanets；　the　fluttering；　painted　figures　of　the　dancers。
She　wantedmore　than　she　could　express；　more　than　she　knew。　It　was
there；　want；　aching　in　her　heart；　as　she　drew　into　her　nostrils　this
strange　and　wealthy　atmosphere。

When　Domini　returned　to　her　bed　she　found　it　impossible　to　read　any
more　Newman。　The　rain　and　the　scents　coming　up　out　of　the　hidden　earth
of　Africa　had　carried　her　mind　away；　as　if　on　a　magic　carpet。　She　was
content　now　to　lie　awake　in　the　dark。

Domini　was　thirty…two；　unmarried；　and　in　a　singularly　independent
some　might　have　thought　a　singularly　lonelysituation。　Her　father；
Lord　Rens；　had　recently　died；　leaving　Domini；　who　was　his　only　child；
a　large　fortune。　His　life　had　been　a　curious　and　a　tragic　one。　Lady
Rens；　Domini's　mother；　had　been　a　great　beauty　of　the　gipsy　type；　the
daughter　of　a　Hungarian　mother　and　of　Sir　Henry　Arlworth；　one　of　the
most　prominent　and　ardent　English　Catholics　of　his　day。　A　son　of　his
became　a　priest；　and　a　famous　preacher　and　writer　on　religious
subjects。　Another　child；　a　daughter；　took　the　veil。　Lady　Rens；　who　was
not　clever；　although　she　was　at　one　time　almost　universally　considered
to　have　the　face　of　a　muse；　shared　in　the　family　ardour　for　the
Church；　but　was　far　too　fond　of　the　world　to　leave　it。　While　she　was
very　young　she　met　Lord　Rens；　a　Lifeguardsman　of　twenty…six；　who
called　himself　a　Protestant；　but　who　was　really　quite　happy　without
any　faith。　He　fell　madly　in　love　with　her　and；　in　order　to　marry　her；
became　a　Catholic；　and　even　a　very　devout　one；　aiding　his　wife's
Church　by　every　means　in　his　power；　giving　large　sums　to　Catholic
charities；　and　working；　with　almost　fiery　zeal；　for　the　spread　of
Catholicism　in　England。

Unfortunately；　his　new　faith　was　founded　only　on　love　for　a　human
being；　and　when　Lady　Rens；　who　was　intensely　passionate　and　impulsive；
suddenly　threw　all　her　principles　to　the　winds；　and　ran　away　with　a
Hungarian　musician；　who　had　made　a　furor　one　season　in　London　by　his
magnificent　violin…playing；　her　husband；　stricken　in　his　soul；　and
also　wounded　almost　to　the　death　in　his　pride；　abandoned　abruptly　the
religion　of　the　woman　who　had　converted　and　betrayed　him。

Domini　was　nineteen；　and　had　recently　been　presented　at　Court　when　the
scandal　of　her　mother's　escapade　shook　the　town；　and　changed　her
father　in　a　day　from　one　of　the　happiest　to　one　of　the　most　cynical；
embittered　and　despairing　of　men。　She；　who　had　been　brought　up　by　both
her　parents　as　a　Catholic；　who　had　from　her　earliest　years　been
earnestly　educated　in　the　beauties　of　religion；　was　now　exposed　to　the
almost　frantic　persuasions　of　a　father　who；　hating　all　that　he　had
formerly　loved；　abandoning　all　that；　influenced　by　his　faithless　wife；
he　had　formerly　clung　to；　wished　to　carry　his　daughter　with　him　into
his　new　and　most　miserable　way　of　life。　But　Domini；　who；　with　much　of
her　mother's　dark　beauty；　had　inherited　much　of　her　quick　vehemence
and　passion；　was　also　gifted　with　brains；　and　with　a　certain　largeness
of　temperament　and　clearness　of　insight　which　Lady　Rens　lacked。　Even
when　she　was　still　quivering　under　the　shock　and　shame　of　her　mother's
guilt　and　her　own　solitude；　Domini　was　unable　to　share　her　father's
intensely　egoistic　view　of　the　religion　of　the　culprit。　She　could　not
be　persuaded　that　the　faith　in　which　she　had　been　brought　up　was
proved　to　be　a　sham　because　one　of　its　professors；　whom　she　had　above
all　others　loved　and　trusted；　had　broken　away　from　its　teachings　and
defied　her　own　belief。　She　would　not　secede　with　her　father；　but
remained　in　the　Church　of　the　mother　she　was　never　to　see　again；　and
this　in　spite　of　extraordinary　and　dogged　efforts　on　the　part　of　Lord
Rens　to　pervert　her　to　his　own　Atheism。　His　mind　had　been　so　warped　by
the　agony　of　his　heart　that　he　had　come　to　feel　as　if　by　tearing　his
only　child　from　the　religion　he　had　been　led　to　by　the　greatest　sinner
he　had　known；　he　would　be；　in　some　degree　at　least；　purifying　his　life
tarnished　by　his　wife's　conduct；　raising　again　a　little　way　the　pride
she　had　trampled　in　the　dust。

Her　uncle；　Father　Arlworth；　helped　Domini　by　his　support　and　counsel
in　this　critical　period　of　her　life；　and　Lord　Rens　in　time　ceased　from
the　endeavour　to　carry　his　child　with　him　as　companion　in　his　tragic
journey　from　love　and　belief　to　hatred　and　denial。　He　turned　to　the
violent　occupations　of　despair；　and　the　last　years　of　his　life　were
hideous　enough；　as　the　world　knew　and　Domini　sometimes　suspected。　But
though　Domini　had　resisted　him　she　was　not　unmoved　or　wholly
uninfluenced　by　her　mother's　desertion　and　its　effect　upon　her　father。
She　remained　a　Catholic；　but　she　gradually　ceased　from　being　a　devout
one。　Although　she　had　seemed　to　stand　firm　she　had　in　truth　been
shaken；　if　not　in　her　belief；　in　a　more　precious　thingher　love。　She
complied　with　the　ordinances；　but　felt　little　of　the　inner　beauty　of
her　faith。　The　effort　she　had　made　in　withstanding　her　father's
assault　upon　it　had　exhausted　her。　Though　she　had　had　the　strength　to
triumph；　at　the　moment；　a　partial　and　secret　collapse　was　the　price
she　had　afterwards　to　pay。　Father　Arlworth；　who　had　a　subtle
understanding　of　human　nature；　noticed　that　Domini　was　changed　and
slightly　hardened　by　the　tragedy　she　had　known；　and　was　not　surprised
or　shocked。　Nor　did　he　attempt　to　force　her　character　back　into　its
former　way　of　beauty。　He　knew　that　to　do　so　would　be　dangerous；　that
Domini's　nature　required　peace　in　which　to　become　absolutely　normal
once　again　after　the　shock　it　had　sustained。

When　Domini　was　twenty…one　he　died；　and　her　safest　guide；　the　one　who
understood　her　best；　went　from　her。　The　years　passed。　She　lived　with
her　embittered　father；　and　drifted　into　the　unthinking　worldliness　of
the　life　of　her　order。　Her　home　was　far　from　ideal。　Yet　she　would　not
marry。　The　wreck　of　her　parents'　domestic　life　had　rendered　her
mistrustful　of　human　relations。　She　had　seen　something　of　the　terror
of　love；　and　could　not；　like　other　women；　regard　it　as　safety　and　as
sweetness。　So　she　put　it　from　her；　and　strove　to　fill　her　life　with
all　those　lesser　things　which　men　and　women　grasp；　as　the　Chinese
grasp　the　opium　pipe；　those　things　which　lull　our　comprehension　of
realities　to　sleep。

When　Lord　Rens　died；　still　blaspheming；　and　without　any　of　the
consolations　of　religion；　Domini　felt　the　imperious　need　of　change。
She　did　not　grieve　actively　for　the　dead　man。　In　his　last　years　they
had　been　very　far　apart；　and　his　death　relieved　her　from　the　perpetual
contemplation　of　a　tragedy。　Lord　Rens　had　grown　to　regard　his　daughter
almost　with　enmity　in　his　enmity　against　her　mother's　religion；　which
was　hers。　She　had　come　to　think　of　him　rather　with　pity　than　with
love。　Yet　his　death　was　a　shock　to　her。　When　he　could　speak　no　more；
but　only　lie　still；　she　remembered　suddenly　just　what　he　had　been
before　her　mother's　flight。　The　succeeding　period；　long　though　it　had
been　and　ugly；　was　blotted　out。　She　wept　for　the　poor；　broken　life　now
ended；　and　was　afraid　for　his　future　in　the　other　world。　His　departure
into　the　unknown　roused　her　abruptly　to　a　clear　conception　of　how　his
action　and　her　mother's　had　affected　her　own　character。　As　she　stood
by　his　bed　she　wondered　what　she　might　have　been　if　her　mother　had
been　true；　her　father　happy；　to　the　end。　Then　she　felt　afraid　of
herself；　recognising　partially；　and　for　the　first　time；　how　all　these
years　had　seen　her　long　indifference。　She　felt　self…conscious　too；
ignorant　of　the　real　meaning　of　life；　and　as　if　she　had　always　been；
and　still　remained；　rather　a　complicated　piece　of　mechanism　than　a
woman。　A　desolate　enervation　of　spirit　descended　upon　her；　a　sort　of
bitter；　and　yet　dull；　perplexity。　She　began　to　wonder　what　she　was；
capable　of　what；　of　how　much　good　or　evil；　and　to　feel　sure　that　she
did　not　know；　had　never　known　or　tried　to　find　out。　Once；　in　this
state　of　mind；　she　went　to　confession。　She　came　away　feeling　that　she
had　just　joined　with　the　priest　in　a　farce。　How　can　a　woman　who　knows
nothing　about　herself　make　anything　but　a　worthless　confession？　she
thought。　To　say　what　you　have　done　is　not　always　to　say　what　you　are。
And　only　what　you　are　matters　eternally。

Presently；　still　in　this　perplexity　of　spirit；　she　left　England　with
only　her　maid　as　companion。　After　a　short　tour　in　the　south　of　Europe；
with　which　she　was　too　familiar；　she　crossed　the　sea　to　Africa；　which
she　had　never　seen。　Her　destination　was　Beni…Mora。　She　had　chosen　it
because　she　liked　its　name；　because　she　saw　on　the　map　that　it　was　an
oasis　in　the　Sahara　Desert；　because　she　knew　it　was　small；　quiet；　yet
face　to　face　with　an　immensity　of　which　she　had　often　dreamed。　Idly
she　fancied　that　perhaps　in　the　sunny　solitude　of　Beni…Mora；　far　from
all　the　friends　and　reminiscences　of　her　old　life；　she　might　learn　to
understand　herself。　How？　She　did　not　know。　She　did　not　seek　to　know。
Here　was　a　vague　pilgrimage；　as　many　pilgrimages　are　in　this　world
the　journey　of　the　searcher　who　knew　not　what　she　sought。　And　so　now
she　lay　in　the　dark；　and　heard　the　rustle　of　the　warm　African　rain；
and　smelt　the　perfumes　rising　from　the　ground；　and　felt　that　the
unknown　was　very　near　herthe　unknown　with　all　its　blessed
possibilities　of　change。



CHAPTER　II

Long　before　dawn　the　Italian　waiter　rolled　off　his　little　bed；　put　a
cap　on　his　head；　and　knocked　at　Domini's　and　at　Suzanne　Charpot's
doors。

It　was　still　dark；　and　still　raining；　when　the　two　women　came　out　to
get　into　the　carriage　that　was　to　take　them　to　the　station。　The　place
de　la　Marine　was　a　sea　of　mud；　brown　and　sticky　as　nougat。　Wet　palms
dripped　by　the　railing　near　a　desolate　kiosk　painted　green　and　blue。
The　sky　was　grey　and　low。　Curtains　of　tarpaulin　were　let　down　on　each
side　of　the　carriage；　and　the　coachman；　who　looked　like　a　Maltese；