It was empty。 She went softly to a /prie…dieu/ near the altar； knelt
down and covered her eyes with her hands。
At first she did not pray； or even think consciously； but just rested
in the attitude which always seems to bring humanity nearest its God。
And； almost immediately； she began to feel a quietude of spirit； as if
something delicate descended upon her； and lay lightly about her；
shrouding her from the troubles of the world。 How sweet it was to have
the faith that brings with it such tender protection； to have the
trust that keeps alive through the swift passage of the years the
spirit of the little child。 How sweet it was to be able to rest。 There
was at this moment a sensation of deep joy within her。 It grew in the
silence of the church； and； as it grew； brought with it presently a
growing consciousness of the lives beyond those walls； of other
spirits capable of suffering； of conflict； and of peace； not far away；
till she knew that this present blessing of happiness came to her； not
only from the scarce…realised thought of God； but also from the
scarce…realised thought of man。
Close by； divided from her only by a little masonry； a few feet of
sand； a few palm trees； Androvsky was with the priest。
Still kneeling； with her face between her hands； Domini began to think
and pray。 The memory of her petition to Notre Dame de la Garde came
back to her。 Before she knew Africa she had prayed for men wandering；
and perhaps unhappy； there； for men whom she would probably never see
again； would never know。 And now that she was growing familiar with
this land； divined something of its wonders and its dangers； she
prayed for a man in it whom she did not know； who was very near to her
making a sacrifice of his prejudices； perhaps of his fears； at her
desire。 She prayed for Androvsky without words； making of her feelings
of gratitude to him a prayer； and presently； in the darkness framed by
her hands； she seemed to see Liberty once more； as in the shadows of
the dancing…house； standing beside a man who prayed far out in the
glory of the desert。 The storm； spoken of by the Diviner； did not
always rage。 It was stilled to hear his prayer。 And the darkness had
fled； and the light drew near to listen。 She pressed her face more
strongly against her hands； and began to think more definitely。
Was this interview with the priest the first step taken by Androvsky
towards the gift the desert held for him？
He must surely be a man who hated religion； or thought he hated it。
Perhaps he looked upon it as a chain； instead of as the hammer that
strikes away the fetters from the slave。
Yet he had worn a crucifix。
She lifted her head； put her hand into her breast； and drew out the
crucifix。 What was its history？ She wondered as she looked at it。 Had
someone who loved him given it to him； someone； perhaps； who grieved
at his hatred of holiness； and who fancied that this very humble
symbol might one day； as the humble symbols sometimes do； prove itself
a little guide towards shining truth？ Had a woman given it to him？
She laid the cross down on the edge of the /prie…dieu/。
There was red fire gleaming now on the windows of the church。 She
realised the pageant that was marching up the west； the passion of the
world as well as the purity which lay beyond the world。 Her mind was
disturbed。 She glanced from the red radiance on the glass to the dull
brown wood of the cross。 Blood and agony had made it the mystical
symbol that it wasblood and agony。
She had something to think out。 That burden was still upon her mind；
and now again she felt its weight； a weight that her interview with
the priest had not lifted。 For she had not been able to be quite frank
with the priest。 Something had held her back from absolute sincerity；
and so he had not spoken quite plainly all that was in his mind。 His
words had been a little vague； yet she had understood the meaning that
lay behind them。
Really； he had warned her against Androvsky。 There were two men of
very different types。 One was unworldly as a child。 The other knew the
world。 Neither of them had any acquaintance with Androvsky's history；
and both had warned her。 It was instinct then that had spoken in them；
telling them that he was a man to be shunned； perhaps feared。 And her
own instinct？ What had it said？ What did it say？
For a long time she remained in the church。 But she could not think
clearly； reason calmly； or even pray passionately。 For a vagueness had
come into her mind like the vagueness of twilight that filled the
space beneath the starry roof； softening the crudeness of the
ornaments； the garish colours of the plaster saints。 It seemed to her
that her thoughts and feelings lost their outlines； that she watched
them fading like the shrouded forms of Arabs fading in the tunnels of
Mimosa。 But as they vanished surely they whispered； 〃That which is
written is written。〃
The mosques of Islam echoed these words； and surely this little church
that bravely stood among them。
〃That which is written is written。〃
Domini rose from her knees； hid the wooden cross once more in her
breast； and went out into the evening。
As she left the church door something occurred which struck the
vagueness from her。 She came upon Androvsky and the priest。 They were
standing together at the latter's gate； which he was in the act of
opening to an accompaniment of joyous barking from Bous…Bous。 Both men
looked strongly expressive； as if both had been making an effort of
some kind。 She stopped in the twilight to speak to them。
〃Monsieur Androvsky has kindly been paying me a visit；〃 said Father
Roubier。
〃I am glad；〃 Domini said。 〃We ought all to be friends here。〃
There was a perceptible pause。 Then Androvsky lifted his hat。
〃Good…evening； Madame；〃 he said。 〃Good…evening； Father。〃 And he walked
away quickly。
The priest looked after him and sighed profoundly。
〃Oh； Madame！〃 he exclaimed； as if impelled to liberate his mind to
someone； 〃what is the matter with that man？ What is the matter？〃
He stared fixedly into the twilight after Androvsky's retreating form。
〃With Monsieur Androvsky？〃
She spoke quietly； but her mind was full of apprehension； and she
looked searchingly at the priest。
〃Yes。 What can it be？〃
〃ButI don't understand。〃
〃Why did he come to see me？〃
〃I asked him to come。〃
She blurted out the words without knowing why； only feeling that she
must speak the truth。
〃You asked him！〃
〃Yes。 I wanted you to be friendsand I thought perhaps you might〃
〃Yes？〃
〃I wanted you to be friends。〃 She repeated it almost stubbornly。
〃I have never before felt so ill at ease with any human being；〃
exclaimed the priest with tense excitement。 〃And yet I could not let
him go。 Whenever he was about to leave me I was impelled to press him
to remain。 We spoke of the most ordinary things； and all the time it
was as if we were in a great tragedy。 What is he？ What can he be？〃 （He
still looked down the road。）
〃I don't know。 I know nothing。 He is a man travelling； as other men
travel。〃
〃Oh； no！〃
〃What do you mean； Father？〃
〃I mean that other travellers are not like this man。〃
He leaned his thin hands heavily on the gate； and she saw； by the
expression of his eyes； that he was going to say something startling。
〃Madame；〃 he said； lowering his voice； 〃I did not speak quite frankly
to you this afternoon。 You may； or you may not； have understood what I
meant。 But now I will speak plainly。 As a priest I warn you； I warn
you most solemnly； not to make friends with this man。〃
There was a silence； then Domini said：
〃Please give me your reason for this warning。〃
〃That I can't do。〃
〃Because you have no reason； or because it is not one you care to tell
me？〃
〃I have no reason to give。 My reason is my instinct。 I know nothing of
this manI pity him。 I shall pray for him。 He needs prayers； yes； he
needs them。 But you are a woman out here alone。 You have spoken to me
of yourself； and I feel it my duty to say that I advise you most
earnestly to break off your acquaintance with Monsieur Androvsky。〃
〃Do you mean that you think him evil？〃
〃I don't know whether he is evil； I don't know what he is。〃
〃I know he is not evil。〃
The priest looked at her； wondering。
〃You knowhow？〃
〃My instinct；〃 she said； coming a step nearer； and putting her hand；
too； on the gate near his。 〃Why should we desert him？〃
〃Desert him； Madame！〃
Father Roubier's voice sounded amazed。
〃Yes。 You say he needs prayers。 I know it。 Father； are not the first
prayers； the truest； those that go most swiftly to Heavenacts？〃
The priest did not reply for a moment。 He looked at her and seemed to
be thinking deeply。
〃Why did you send Monsieur Androvsky to me this afternoon？〃 he said at
last abruptly。
〃I knew you were a good man； and I fancied if you became friends you
might help him。〃
His face softened。
〃A good man；〃 he said。 〃Ah！〃 He shook his head sadly； with a sound
that was like a little pathetic laugh。 〃Ia good man！ And I allow an
almost invincible personal feeling to conquer my inward sense of
right！ Madame； come into the garden for a moment。〃
He opened the gate；