the garden of allah-第65章

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added　to　it；　a　calm；　a　completeness；　a　mystical　tenderness；　a
passionate　serenity。　She　thought　of　the　sea　as　a　soul　striving　to
fulfil　its　noblest　aspirations；　to　be　the　splendid　thing　it　knew　how
to　dream　of。　But　she　thought　of　the　desert　as　a　soul　that　need　strive
no　more；　having　attained。　And　she；　like　the　Arabs；　called　it　always　in
her　heart　the　Garden　of　Allah。　For　in　this　wonderful　calm；　bright　as
the　child's　idea　of　heaven；　clear　as　a　crystal　with　a　sunbeam　caught
in　it；　silent　as　a　prayer　that　will　be　answered　silently；　God　seemed
to　draw　very　near　to　His　wandering　children。　In　the　desert　was　the
still；　small　voice；　and　the　still；　small　voice　was　the　Lord。

Often　at　dawn　or　sundown；　when；　perhaps　in　the　distance　of　the　sands；
or　near　at　hand　beneath　the　shade　of　the　palms　of　some　oasis　by　a
waterspring；　she　watched　the　desert　men　in　their　patched　rags；　with
their　lean；　bronzed　faces　and　eagle　eyes　turned　towards　Mecca；　bowing
their　heads　in　prayer　to　the　soil　that　the　sun　made　hot；　she
remembered　Count　Anteoni's　words；　〃I　like　to　see　men　praying　in　the
desert；〃　and　she　understood　with　all　her　heart　and　soul　why。　For　the
life　of　the　desert　was　the　most　perfect　liberty　that　could　be　found　on
earth；　and　to　see　men　thus　worshipping　in　liberty　set　before　her　a
vision　of　free　will　upon　the　heights。　When　she　thought　of　the　world
she　had　known　and　left；　of　the　men　who　would　always　live　in　it　and
know　no　other　world；　she　was　saddened　for　a　moment。　Could　she　ever
find　elsewhere　such　joy　as　she　had　found　in　the　simple　and　unfettered
life　of　the　wastes？　Could　she　ever　exchange　this　life　for　another
life；　even　with　Androvsky？

One　day　she　spoke　to　him　of　her　intense　joy　in　the　wandering　fate；　and
the　pain　that　came　to　her　whenever　she　thought　of　exchanging　it　for　a
life　of　civilisation　in　the　midst　of　fixed　groups　of　men。

They　had　halted　for　the　noonday　rest　at　a　place　called　Sidi…Hamdam；
and　in　the　afternoon　were　going　to　ride　on　to　a　Bordj　called　Mogar；
where　they　meant　to　stay　two　or　three　days；　as　Batouch　had　told　them
it　was　a　good　halting　place；　and　near　to　haunts　of　the　gazelle。　The
tents　had　already　gone　forward；　and　Domini　and　Androvsky　were　lying
upon　a　rug　spread　on　the　sand；　in　the　shadow　of　the　grey　wall　of　a
traveller's　house　beside　a　well。　Behind　them　their　horses　were
tethered　to　an　iron　ring　in　the　wall。　Batouch　and　Ali　were　in　the
court　of　the　house；　talking　to　the　Arab　guardian　who　dwelt　there；　but
their　voices　were　not　audible　by　the　well；　and　absolute　silence
reigned；　the　intense　yet　light　silence　that　is　in　the　desert　at
noontide；　when　the　sun　is　at　the　zenith；　when　the　nomad　sleeps　under
his　low…pitched　tent；　and　the　gardeners　in　the　oasis　cease　even　from
pretending　to　work　among　the　palms。　From　before　the　well　the　ground
sank　to　a　plain　of　pale　grey　sand；　which　stretched　away　to　a　village
hard　in　aspect；　as　if　carved　out　of　bronze　and　all　in　one　piece。　In
the　centre　of　it　rose　a　mosque　with　a　minaret　and　a　number　of　cupolas；
faintly　gilded　and　shining　modestly　under　the　fierce　rays　of　the　sun。

At　the　foot　of　the　village　the　ground　was　white　with　saltpetre；　which
resembled　a　covering　of　new…fallen　snow。　To　right　and　left　of　it　were
isolated　groups　of　palms　growing　in　threes　and　fours；　like　trees　that
had　formed　themselves　into　cliques　and　set　careful　barriers　of　sand
between　themselves　and　their　despised　brethren。　Here　and　there　on　the
grey　sand　dark　patches　showed　where　nomads　had　pitched　their　tents。
But　there　was　no　movement　of　human　life。　No　camels　were　visible。　No
guard　dogs　barked。　The　noon　held　all　things　in　its　golden　grip。

〃Boris！〃　Domini　said；　breaking　a　long　silence。

〃Yes；　Domini？〃

He　turned　towards　her　on　the　rug；　stretching　his　long；　thin　body
lazily　as　if　in　supreme　physical　contentment。

〃You　know　that　saying　of　the　Arabs　about　forgetting　everything　in　the
desert？〃

〃Yes；　Domini；　I　know　it。〃

〃How　long　shall　we　stay　in　this　world　of　forgetfulness？〃

He　lifted　himself　up　on　his　elbow　quickly；　and　fixed　his　eyes　on　hers。

〃How　long！〃

〃Yes。〃

〃Butdo　you　wish　to　leave　it？　Are　you　tired　of　it？〃

There　was　a　note　of　sharp　anxiety　in　his　voice。

〃I　don't　answer　such　a　question；〃　she　said；　smiling　at　him。

〃Ah；　then；　why　do　you　try　to　frighten　me？〃

She　put　her　hand　in　his。

〃How　burnt　you　are！〃　she　said。　〃You　are　like　an　Arab　of　the　South。〃

〃Let　me　become　more　like　one。　There's　health　here。〃

〃And　peace；　perfect　peace。〃

He　said　nothing。　He　was　looking　down　now　at　the　sand。

She　laid　her　lips　on　his　warm　brown　hand。

〃There's　all　I　want　here；〃　she　added。

〃Let　us　stay　here。〃

〃But　some　day　we　must　go　back；　mustn't　we？〃

〃Why？〃

〃Can　anything　be　lifelongeven　our　honeymoon？〃

〃Suppose　we　choose　that　it　shall　be？〃

〃Can　we　choose　such　a　thing？　Is　anybody　allowed　to　choose　to　live
always　quite　happily　without　duties？　Sometimes　I　wonder。　I　love　this
wandering　life　so　much；　I　am　so　happy　in　it；　that　I　sometimes　think　it
cannot　last　much　longer。〃

He　began　to　sift　the　sand　through　his　fingers　swiftly。

〃Duties？〃　he　said　in　a　low　voice。

〃Yes。　Oughtn't　we　to　do　something　presently；　something　besides　being
happy？〃

〃What　do　you　mean；　Domini？〃

〃I　hardly　know；　I　don't　know。　You　tell　me。〃

There　was　an　urging　in　her　voice；　as　if　she　wanted；　almost　demanded；
something　of　him。

〃You　mean　that　a　man　must　do　some　work　in　his　life　if　he　is　to　keep
himself　a　man；〃　he　said；　not　as　if　he　were　asking　a　question。

He　spoke　reluctantly　but　firmly。

〃You　know；〃　he　added；　〃that　I　have　worked　hard　all　my　life；　hard　like
a　labourer。〃

〃Yes；　I　know；〃　she　said。

She　stroked　his　hand；　that　was　worn　and　rough；　and　spoke　eloquently　of
manual　toil　it　had　accomplished　in　the　past。

〃I　know。　Before　we　were　married；　that　day　when　we　sat　in　the　garden；
you　told　me　your　life　and　I　told　you　mine。　How　different　they　have
been！〃

〃Yes；〃　he　said。

He　lit　a　cigar　and　watched　the　smoke　curling　up　into　the　gold　of　the
sunlit　atmosphere。

〃Mine　in　the　midst　of　the　world　and　yours　so　far　away　from　it。　I　often
imagine　that　little　place；　El　Krori；　the　garden；　your　brother；　your
twin…brother　Stephen；　that　one…eyed　Arab　servantwhat　was　his　name？〃

〃El　Magin。〃

〃Yes；　El　Magin；　who　taught　you　to　play　Cora　and　to　sing　Arab　songs；
and　to　eat　cous…cous　with　your　fingers。　I　can　almost　see　Father　Andre；
from　whom　you　learnt　to　love　the　Classics；　and　who　talked　to　you　of
philosophy。　He's　dead　too；　isn't　he；　like　your　mother？〃

〃I　don't　know　whether　Pere　Andre　is　dead。　I　have　lost　sight　of　him；〃
Androvsky　said。

He　still　looked　steadily　at　the　rings　of　smoke　curling　up　into　the
golden　air。　There　was　in　his　voice　a　sound　of　embarrassment。　She
guessed　that　it　came　from　the　consciousness　of　the　pain　he　must　have
caused　the　good　priest　who　had　loved　him　when　he　ceased　from
practising　the　religion　in　which　he　had　been　brought　up。　Even　to　her
he　never　spoke　frankly　on　religious　subjects；　but　she　knew　that　he　had
been　baptised　a　Catholic　and　been　educated　for　a　time　by　priests。　She
knew；　too；　that　he　was　no　longer　a　practising　Catholic；　and　that；　for
some　reason；　he　dreaded　any　intimacy　with　priests。　He　never　spoke
against　them。　He　had　scarcely　ever　spoken　of　them　to　her。　But　she
remembered　his　words　in　the　garden；　〃I　do　not　care　for　priests。〃　She
remembered；　too；　his　action　in　the　tunnel　on　the　day　of　his　arrival　in
Beni…Mora。　And　the　reticence　that　they　both　preserved　on　the　subject
of　religion；　and　its　reason；　were　the　only　causes　of　regret　in　this
desert　dream　of　hers。　Even　this　regret；　too；　often　faded　in　hope。　For
in　the　desert；　the　Garden　of　Allah；　she　had　it　borne　in　upon　her　that
Androvsky　would　discover　what　he　must　surely　secretly　be　seekingthe
truth　that　each　man　must　find　for　himself；　truth　for　him　of　the
eventual　existence　in　which　the　mysteries　of　this　present　existence
will　be　made　plain；　and　of　the　Power　that　has　fashioned　all　things。

And　she　was　able　to　hope　in　silence；　as　women　do　for　the　men　they
love。

〃Don't　think　I　do　not　realise　that　you　have　worked；〃　she　went　on　after
a　pause。　〃You　told　me　how　you　always　cultivated　the　land　yourself；
even　when　you　were　still　a　boy；　that　you　directed　the　Spanish
labourers　in　the　vineyards；　thatyou　have　earned　a　long　holiday。　But
should　it　last　for　ever？〃

〃You　are　right。　Well；　let　us　take　an　oasis；　let　us　become　palm
gardeners　like　that　Frenchman　at　Meskoutine。〃

〃And　build　ourselves　an　African　house；　white；　with　a　terrace　roof。〃

〃And　sell　our　dates。　We　can　give　employment　to　the　Arabs。　We　can
choose　the　poorest。　We　can　improve　their　lives。　After　all；　if　we　owe　a
debt　to　anyone　it　is　to　them；　to　the　desert。　Let　us　pay　our　debt　to
the　desert　men　and　live　in　the　desert。〃

〃It　would　be　an　ideal　life；〃　she　said　with　her　eyes　shining　on　his。

〃And　a　possible　life。　Let　us　live　it。　I　could　not　bear　to　leave　the
desert。　Where　should　we　go？〃

〃Where　should　we　go！〃　she　repeated。

She　was　still　looking　at　him；　but　now　the　expression　of　her　eyes　had
quite　changed。　They　had　become　grave；　and　examined　him　seriously　with
a　sort　of　deep　inquiry。　He　sat　upon　the　Arab　rug；　leaning　his　back
against　the　wall　of　the　traveller's　house。

〃Why　do　you　look　at　me　like　that；　Domini？〃　he　asked　with　a　sudden
stirring　of　something　that　was　like　uneasiness。

〃I！　I　was　wondering　what　you　would　like；　what　other　life　would　suit
you。〃

〃Yes？〃　he　said　quickly。　〃Yes？〃

〃It's　very　strange；　Boris；　but　I　cannot　connect　you　with　anything　but
the　desert；　or　see　you　anywhere　but　in　the　desert。　I　cannot　even
imagine　you　among　your　vines　in　Tunisia。〃

〃They　were　not　altogether　mine；〃　he　corrected；　still　with　a　certain
excitement　which　he　evidently　endeavoured　to　repress。　〃II　had　the
right；　the　duty　of　cultivating　the　land。〃

〃Well；　however　it　was；　you　were　always　at　work；　you　were　responsible；
weren't　you？〃

〃Yes。〃

〃I　can't　see　you　even　in　the　vineyards　or　the　wheat…fields。　Isn't　it
strange？〃

She　was　always　looking　at　him　with　the　same　deep　and　wholly
unselfconscious　inquiry。

〃And　as　to　London；　Paris〃

Suddenly　she　burst　into　a　little　laugh　and　her　gravity　vanished。

〃I　think　you　would　hate　them；〃　she　said。　〃And　theythey　wouldn't　like
you　because　they　wouldn't　understand　you。〃

〃Let　us　buy　our　oasis；〃　he　said　abruptly。　〃Build　our　African　house；
sell　our　dates　and　remain　in　the　desert。　I　hear　Batouch。　It　must　be
time　to　ride　on　to　Mogar。　Batouch！　Batouch！〃

Batouch　came　from　the　courtyard　of　the　house　wiping　the　remains　of　a
cous…cous　from　his　languid　lips。

〃Untie　the　horses；〃　said　Androvsky。

〃But；　Monsieur；　it　is　still　too　hot　to　travel。　Look！　No　one　is
stirring。　All　the　village　is　asleep。〃

He　waved　his　enormous　hand；　with　henna…tinted　nails；　towards　the
distant　town；　carved　surely　out　of　one　huge　piece　of　bronze。

〃Untie　the　horses。　There　are　gazelle　in　the　plain　near　Mogar。　Didn't
you　tell　me？〃

〃Yes；　Monsieur；　but〃

〃We'll　get　there　early　and　go　out　after　them　at　sunset。　Now；　Domini。〃

They　rode　away　in　the　burning　heat　of　the　noon　towards　the　southwest
across　the　vast　plains　of　grey　sand；　followed　at　a　short　distance　by
Batouch　and　Ali。

〃Monsieur　is　mad　to　start　in　the　noon；〃　grum