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 his hands。 And Domini knew that
all the time he was thinking about her； as she was thinking about him。
She felt the violence of his thought like the violence of a hand
striking her。
The Arab waiter brought her some ragout of mutton and peas； and she
looked down again at her plate。
As she left the room after /dejeuner/ the priest again got up and
bowed。 She stopped for a moment to speak to him。 All the French
officers surveyed her tall； upright figure and broad； athletic
shoulders with intent admiration。 Domini knew it and was indifferent。
If a hundred French soldiers had been staring at her critically she
would not have cared at all。 She was not a shy woman and was in nowise
uncomfortable when many eyes were fixed upon her。 So she stood and
talked a little to the priest about Count Anteoni and her pleasure in
his garden。 And as she did so； feeling her present calm self…
possession； she wondered secretly at the wholly unnatural turmoilshe
called it that； exaggerating her feeling because it was unusualin
which she had been a few minutes before as she sat at her table。
The priest spoke well of Count Anteoni。
〃He is very generous；〃 he said。
Then he paused； twisting his napkin； and added：
〃But I never have any real intercourse with him； Madame。 I believe he
comes here in search of solitude。 He spends days and even weeks alone
shut up in his garden。〃
〃Thinking；〃 she said。
The priest looked slightly surprised。
〃It would be difficult not to think； Madame； would it not？〃
〃Oh； yes。 But Count Anteoni thinks rather as a Bashi…Bazouk fights； I
fancy。〃
She heard a chair creak in the distance and glanced over her shoulder。
The traveller had turned sideways。 At once she bade the priest good…
bye and walked away and out through the swing door。
All the afternoon she rested。 The silence was profound。 Beni…Mora was
enjoying a siesta in the heat。 Domini revelled in the stillness。 The
fatigue of travel had quite gone from her now and she began to feel
strangely at home。