of Zerzour； the only human being in the great； dim building who was
not worshipping。 And she felt a terrible isolation； as if she were
excommunicated； as if she dared not pray； for a moment almost as if
the God to whom this torrent of worship flowed were hostile to her
alone。
Had her father ever felt such a sensation of unutterable solitude？
It passed quickly； and； standing under the votive lamps before the
painted doors； she prayed too； silently。 She shut her eyes and
imagined a church of her religionthe little church of Beni…Mora。 She
tried to imagine the voice of prayer all about her； the voice of the
great Catholic Church。 But that was not possible。 Even when she saw
nothing； and turned her soul inward upon itself； and strove to set
this new world into which she had come far off； she heard in the long
murmur that filled it a sound that surely rose from the sand； from the
heart and the spirit of the sand； from the heart and the spirit of
desert places； and that went up in the darkness of the mosque and
floated under the arches through the doorway； above the palms and the
flat…roofed houses； and that winged its fierce way； like a desert
eagle； towards the sun。
Mustapha's hand was on her arm。 The guardian； too； had risen from his
knees and drawn from his robe and lit a candle。 She came to a tiny
doorway； passed through it and began to mount a winding stair。 The
sound of prayer mounted with her from the mosque； and when she came
out upon the platform enclosed in the summit of the minaret she heard
it still and it was multiplied。 For all the voices from the outside
courts joined it； and many voices from the roofs of the houses round
about。
Men were praying there too； praying in the glare of the sun upon their
housetops。 She saw them from the minaret； and she saw the town that
had sprung up round the tomb of the saint； and all the palms of the
oasis； and beyond them immeasurable spaces of desert。
〃Allah…Akbar！ Allah…Akbar！〃
She was above the eternal cry now。 She had mounted like a prayer
towards the sun； like a living； pulsing prayer； like the soul of
prayer。 She gazed at the far…off desert and saw prayer travelling； the
soul of prayer travellingwhither？ Where was the end？ Where was the
halting…place； with at last the pitched tent； the camp fires； and the
long； the long repose？
* * * * * *
When she came down and reached the court she found the old man still
striking at the mosque and shrieking out his trembling imprecation。
And she found Androvsky still standing by him with fascinated eyes。
She had mounted with the voice of prayer into the sunshine； surely a
little way towards God。
Androvsky had remained in the dark shadow with a curse。
It was foolish； perhapsa woman's vagrant fancybut she wished he
had mounted with her。
BOOK III。 THE GARDEN
CHAPTER X
It was noon in the desert。
The voice of the Mueddin died away on the minaret； and the golden
silence that comes out of the heart of the sun sank down once more
softly over everything。 Nature seemed unnaturally still in the heat。
The slight winds were not at play； and the palms of Beni…Mora stood
motionless as palm trees in a dream。 The day was like a dream； intense
and passionate； yet touched with something unearthly； something almost
spiritual。 In the cloudless blue of the sky there seemed a magical
depth； regions of colour infinitely prolonged。 In the vision of the
distances； where desert blent with sky； earth surely curving up to
meet the downward curving heaven； the dimness was like a voice
whispering strange petitions。 The ranges of mountains slept in the
burning sand； and the light slept in their clefts like the languid in
cool places。 For there was a glorious languor even in the light； as if
the sun were faintly oppressed by the marvel of his power。 The
clearness of the atmosphere in the remote desert was not obscured； but
was impregnated with the mystery that is the wonder child of shadows。
The far…off gold that kept it seemed to contain a secret darkness。 In
the oasis of Beni…Mora men； who had slowly roused themselves to pray；
sank down to sleep again in the warm twilight of shrouded gardens or
the warm night of windowless rooms。
In the garden of Count Anteoni Larbi's flute was silent。
〃It is like noon in a mirage；〃 Domini said softly。
Count Anteoni nodded。
〃I feel as if I were looking at myself a long way off；〃 she added。 〃As
if I saw myself as I saw the grey sea and the islands on the way to
Sidi…Zerzour。 What magic there is here。 And I can't get accustomed to
it。 Each day I wonder at it more and find it more inexplicable。 It
almost frightens me。〃
〃You could be frightened？〃
〃Not easily by outside thingsit least I hope not。〃
〃But what then？〃
〃I scarcely know。 Sometimes I think all the outside things； which do
what are called the violent deeds in life； are tame； and timid； and
ridiculously impotent in comparison with the things we can't see；
which do the deeds we can't describe。〃
〃In the mirage of this land you begin to see the exterior life as a
mirage？ You are learning； you are learning。〃
There was a creeping sound of something that was almost impish in his
voice。
〃Are you a secret agent？〃 Domini asked him。
〃Of whom； Madame？〃
She was silent。 She seemed to be considering。 He watched her with
curiosity in his bright eyes。
〃Of the desert；〃 she answered at length； quite seriously。
〃A secret agent has always a definite object。 What is mine？〃
〃How can I know？ How can I tell what the desert desires？〃
〃Already you personify it！〃
The network of wrinkles showed itself in his brown face as he smiled；
surely with triumph。
〃I think I did that from the first；〃 she answered gravely。 〃I know I
did。〃
〃And what sort of personage does the desert seem to you？〃
〃You ask me a great many questions to…day。〃
〃Mirage questions； perhaps。 Forgive me。 Let us listen to the question
or is it the demand？of the desert in this noontide hour； the
greatest hour of all the twenty…four in such a land as this。〃
They were silent again； watching the noon； listening to it； feeling
it； as they had been silent when the Mueddin's nasal voice rose in the
call to prayer。
Count Anteoni stood in the sunshine by the low white parapet of the
garden。 Domini sat on a low chair in the shadow cast by a great
jamelon tree。 At her feet was a bush of vivid scarlet geraniums；
against which her white linen dress looked curiously blanched。 There
was a half…drowsy； yet imaginative light in her gipsy eyes； and her
motionless figure； her quiet hands； covered with white gloves； lying
loosely in her lap； looked attentive and yet languid； as if some spell
began to bind her but had not completed its work of stilling all the
pulses of life that throbbed within her。 And in truth there was a
spell upon her； the spell of the golden noon。 By turns she gave
herself to it consciously； then consciously strove to deny herself to
its subtle summons。 And each time she tried to withdraw it seemed to
her that the spell was a little stronger； her power a little weaker。
Then her lips curved in a smile that was neither joyous nor sad； that
was perhaps rather part perplexed and part expectant。
After a minute of this silence Count Anteoni drew back from the sun
and sat down in a chair beside Domini。 He took out his watch。
〃Twenty…five minutes；〃 he said； 〃and my guests will be here。〃
〃Guests！〃 she said with an accent of surprise。
〃I invited the priest to make an even number。〃
〃Oh！〃
〃You don't dislike him？〃
〃I like him。 I respect him。〃
〃But I'm afraid you aren't pleased？〃
Domini looked him straight in the face。
〃Why did you invite Father Roubier？〃 she said。
〃Isn't four better than three？〃
〃You don't want to tell me。〃
〃I am a little malicious。 You have divined it； so why should I not
acknowledge it？ I asked Father Roubier because I wished to see the man
of prayer with the man who fled from prayer。〃
〃Mussulman prayer；〃 she said quickly。
〃Prayer；〃 he said。
His voice was peculiarly harsh at that moment。 It grated like an
instrument on a rough surface。 Domini knew that secretly he was
standing up for the Arab faith； that her last words had seemed to
strike against the religion of the people whom he loved with an odd；
concealed passion whose fire she began to feel at moments as she grew
to know him better。
It was plain from their manner to each other that their former slight
acquaintance had moved towards something like a pleasant friendship。
Domini looked as if she were no longer a wonder…stricken sight…seer in
this marvellous garden of the sun； but as if she had become familiar
with it。 Yet her wonder was not gone。 It was only different。 There was
less sheer amazement； more affection in it。 As she had said； she had
not become accustomed to the magic of Africa。 Its strangeness； its
contrasts still startled and moved her。 But she began to feel as if
she belonged to Beni…Mora； as if Beni…Mora would perhaps miss her a
little if she went away。
Ten days had passed since the ride to Sidi…Zerzourdays rather like a
dream to Domini。
What she had sought in coming to Beni…Mora she was surely