free； Monsieur Androvsky。 Good…bye。〃
As she spoke she felt that the air was clearing； the clouds were
flying。 Constraint at least was at an end。 And she had really the
sensation of setting a captive at liberty。 She turned to leave him；
but he said：
〃Please； stop； Madame。〃
〃Why？〃
〃You have made a mistake。〃
〃In what？〃
〃I do want to see this garden。〃
〃Really？ Well； then； you can wander through it。〃
〃I do not wish to see it alone。〃
〃Larbi shall guide you。 For half a franc he will gladly give up his
serenading。〃
〃Madame； if you will not show me the garden I will not see it at all。
I will go now and will never come into it again。 I do not pretend。〃
〃Ah！〃 she said； and her voice was quite changed。 〃But you do worse。〃
〃Worse！〃
〃Yes。 You lie in the face of Africa。〃
She did not wish or mean to say it； and yet she had to say it。 She
knew it was monstrous that she should speak thus to him。 What had his
lies to do with her？ She had been told a thousand； had heard a
thousand told to others。 Her life had been passed in a world of which
the words of the Psalmist； though uttered in haste； are a clear…cut
description。 And she had not thought she cared。 Yet really she must
have cared。 For； in leaving this world； her soul had； as it were；
fetched a long breath。 And now； at the hint of a lie； it instinctively
recoiled as from a gust of air laden with some poisonous and
suffocating vapour。
〃Forgive me；〃 she added。 〃I am a fool。 Out here I do love truth。〃
Androvsky dropped his eyes。 His whole body expressed humiliation； and
something that suggested to her despair。
〃Oh； you must think me mad to speak like this！〃 she exclaimed。 〃Of
course people must be allowed to arm themselves against the curiosity
of others。 I know that。 The fact is I am under a spell here。 I have
been living for many； many years in the cold。 I have been like a woman
in a prison without any light； and〃
〃You have been in a prison！〃 he said； lifting his head and looking at
her eagerly。
〃I have been living in what is called the great world。〃
〃And you call that a prison？〃
〃Now that I am living in the greater world； really living at last。 I
have been in the heart of insincerity； and now I have come into the
heart； the fiery heart of sincerity。 It's therethere〃she pointed
to the desert。 〃And it has intoxicated me； I think it has made me
unreasonable。 I expect everyonenot an Arabto be as it is； and
every little thing that isn't quite frank； every pretence； is like a
horrible little hand tugging at me； as if trying to take me back to
the prison I have left。 I think； deep down； I have always loathed
lies； but never as I have loathed them since I came here。 It seems to
me as if only in the desert there is freedom for the body； and only in
truth there is freedom for the soul。〃
She stopped； drew a long breath； and added：
〃You must forgive me。 I have worried you。 I have made you do what you
didn't want to do。 And then I have attacked you。 It is unpardonable。〃
〃Show me the garden； Madame；〃 he said in a very low voice。
Her outburst over； she felt a slight self…consciousness。 She wondered
what he thought of her and became aware of her unconventionality。 His
curious and persistent reticence made her frankness the more marked。
Yet the painful sensation of oppression and exasperation had passed
away from her and she no longer thought of his personality as
destructive。 In obedience to his last words she walked on； and he kept
heavily beside her； till they were in the deep shadows of the closely…
growing trees and the spell of the garden began to return upon her；
banishing the thought of self。
〃Listen！〃 she said presently。
Larbi's flute was very near。
〃He is always playing；〃 she whispered。
〃Who is he？〃
〃One of the gardeners。 But he scarcely ever works。 He is perpetually
in love。 That is why he plays。〃
〃Is that a love…tune then？〃 Androvsky asked。
〃Yes。 Do you think it sounds like one？〃
〃How should I know； Madame？〃
He stood looking in the direction from which the music came； and now
it seemed to hold him fascinated。 After his question； which sounded to
her almost childlike； and which she did not answer； Domini glanced at
his attentive face； to which the green shadows lent a dimness that was
mysterious； at his tall figure； which always suggested to her both
weariness and strength； and remembered the passionate romance to whose
existence she awoke when she first heard Larbi's flute。 It was as if a
shutter； which had closed a window in the house of life； had been
suddenly drawn away； giving to her eyes the horizon of a new world。
Was that shutter now drawn back for him？ No doubt the supposition was
absurd。 Men of his emotional and virile type have travelled far in
that world； to her mysterious； ere they reach his length of years。
What was extraordinary to her； in the thought of it alone； was
doubtless quite ordinary to him； translated into act。 Not ignorant；
she was nevertheless a perfectly innocent woman； but her knowledge
told her that no man of Androvsky's strength； power and passion is
innocent at Androvsky's age。 Yet his last dropped…out question was
very deceptive。 It had sounded absolutely natural and might have come
from a boy's pure lips。 Again he made her wonder。
There was a garden bench close to where they were standing。 〃If you
like to listen for a moment we might sit down；〃 she said。
He started。
〃Yes。 Thank you。〃
When they were sitting side by side； closely guarded by the gigantic
fig and chestnut trees which grew in this part of the garden； he
added：
〃Whom does he love？〃
〃No doubt one of those native women whom you consider utterly without
attraction；〃 she answered with a faint touch of malice which made him
redden。
〃But you come here every day？〃 he said。
〃I！〃
〃Yes。 Has he ever seen you？〃
〃Larbi？ Often。 What has that to do with it？〃
He did not reply。
Odd and disconnected as Larbi's melodies were； they created an
atmosphere of wild tenderness。 Spontaneously they bubbled up out of
the heart of the Eastern world and； when the player was invisible as
now； suggested an ebon faun couched in hot sand at the foot of a palm
tree and making music to listening sunbeams and amorous spirits of the
waste。
〃Do you like it？〃 she said presently in an under voice。
〃Yes； Madame。 And you？〃
〃I love it； but not as I love the song of the freed negroes。 That is a
song of all the secrets of humanity and of the desert too。 And it does
not try to tell them。 It only says that they exist and that God knows
them。 But； I remember； you do not like that song。〃
〃Madame；〃 he answered slowly； and as if he were choosing his words； 〃I
see that you understood。 The song did move me though I said not。 But
no； I do not like it。〃
〃Do you care to tell me why？〃
〃Such a song as that seems to me anit is like an intrusion。 There
are things that should be let alone。 There are dark places that should
be left dark。〃
〃You mean that all human beings hold within them secrets； and that no
allusion even should ever be made to those secrets？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃I understand。〃
After a pause he said； anxiously； she thought：
〃Am I right； Madame； or is my thought ridiculous？〃
He asked it so simply that she felt touched。
〃I'm sure you could never be ridiculous；〃 she said quickly。 〃And
perhaps you are right。 I don't know。 That song makes me think and
feel； and so I love it。 Perhaps if you heard it alone〃
〃Then I should hate it；〃 he interposed。
His voice was like an uncontrolled inner voice speaking。
〃And not thought and feeling〃 she began。
But he interrupted her。
〃They make all the misery that exists in the world。〃
〃And all the happiness。〃
〃Do they？〃
〃They must。〃
〃Then you want to think deeply； to feel deeply？〃
〃Yes。 I would rather be the central figure of a world…tragedy than die
without having felt to the uttermost； even if it were sorrow。 My whole
nature revolts against the idea of being able to feel little or
nothing really。 It seems to me that when we begin to feel acutely we
begin to grow； like the palm tree rising towards the African sun。〃
〃I do not think you have ever been very unhappy；〃 he said。 The sound
of his voice as he said it made her suddenly feel as if it were true；
as if she had never been utterly unhappy。 Yet she had never been
really happy。 Africa had taught her that。
〃Perhaps not；〃 she answered。 〃Butsome day〃
She stopped。
〃Yes； Madame？〃
〃Could one stay long in such a world as this and not be either
intensely happy or intensely unhappy？ I don't feel as if it would be
possible。 Fierceness and fire beat upon one day after day andone
must learn to feel here。〃
As she spoke a sensation of doubt； almost of apprehension； came to
her。 She was overtaken by a terror of the desert。 For a moment it
seemed to her that he was right； that it were better never to be the
prey of any deep emotion。
〃If one does not wish to feel one should never come to such a place as
this；〃 she added。
And she longed to ask him why he was here； he； a man whose philosophy
told him to avoid the heights and depths； to shun the ardours of
nature and of life。
〃Or； having come；