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the only English here； and almost the only travellers。 It is too early
for many travellers yet。 They fear the heat。 And besides； few English
come here now。 What a pity！ They spend money； and like to see
everything。 Hadj is very anxious to buy a costume at Tunis for the
great /fete/ at the end of Ramadan。 It will cost fifty or sixty
francs。 He hopes the Englishman is rich。 But all the English are rich
and generous。〃
Here Batouch looked steadily at Domini with his large； unconcerned
eyes。
〃This one speaks Arabic a little。〃
Domini made no reply。 She was surprised by this piece of information。
There was something； she thought； essentially un…English about the
stranger。 He was certainly not dressed by an English tailor。 But it
was not only that which had caused her mistake。 His whole air and
look； his manner of holding himself； of sitting； of walkingyes；
especially of walkingwere surely foreign。 Yet； when she came to
think about it； she could not say that they were characteristic of any
other country。 Idly she had said to herself that the stranger might be
an Austrian or a Russian。 But she had been thinking of his colouring。
It happened that two /attaches/ of those two nations； whom she had met
frequently in London； had hair of that shade of rather warm brown。
〃He does not look like an Englishman；〃 she said presently。
〃He can talk in French and in Arabic； but Hadj says he is English。〃
〃How should Hadj know？〃
〃Because he has the eyes of the jackal； and has been with many
English。 We are getting near to the Catholic church； Madame。 You will
see it through the trees。 And there is Monsieur the Cure coming
towards us。 He is coming from his house； which is near the hotel。〃
At some distance in the twilight of the tunnel Domini saw a black
figure in a soutane walking very slowly towards them。 The stranger；
who had been covering the ground rapidly with his curious； shuffling
stride； was much nearer to it than they were； and； if he kept on at
his present pace； would soon pass it。 But suddenly Domini saw him
pause and hesitate。 He bent down and seemed to be doing something to
his boot。 Hadj dropped the green bag； and was evidently about to kneel
down； and assist him when he lifted himself up abruptly and looked
before him； as if at the priest who was approaching； then turned
sharply to the right into a path which led out of the garden to the
arcades of the Rue Berthe。 Hadj followed； gesticulating frantically；
and volubly explaining that the hotel was in the opposite direction。
But the stranger did not stop。 He only glanced swiftly back over his
shoulder once； and then continued on his way。
〃What a funny man that is！〃 said Batouch。 〃What does he want to do？〃
Domini did not answer him； for the priest was just passing them； and
she saw the church to the left among the trees。 It was a plain；
unpretending building； with a white wooden door set in an arch。 Above
the arch were a small cross； two windows with rounded tops； a clock；
and a white tower with a pink roof。 She looked at it； and at the
priest； whose face was dark and meditative； with lustrous； but sad；
brown eyes。 Yet she thought of the stranger。
Her attention was beginning to be strongly fixed upon the unknown man。
His appearance and manner were so unusual that it was impossible not
to notice him。
〃There is the hotel； Madame！〃 said Batouch。
Domini saw it standing at right angles to the church； facing the
gardens。 A little way back from the church was the priest's house； a
white building shaded by date palms and pepper trees。 As they drew
near the stranger reappeared under the arcade； above which was the
terrace of the hotel。 He vanished through the big doorway； followed by
Hadj。
While Suzanne was unpacking Domini came out on to the broad terrace
which ran along the whole length of the Hotel du Desert。 Her bedroom
opened on to it in front； and at the back communicated with a small
salon。 This salon opened on to a second and smaller terrace； from
which the desert could be seen beyond the palms。 There seemed to be no
guests in the hotel。 The verandah was deserted； and the peace of the
soft evening was profound。 Against the white parapet a small； round
table and a cane armchair had been placed。 A subdued patter of feet in
slippers came up the stairway； and an Arab servant appeared with a
tea…tray。 He put it down on the table with the precise deftness which
Domini had already observed in the Arabs at Robertville； and swiftly
vanished。 She sat down in the chair and poured out the tea； leaning
her left arm on the parapet。
Her head was very tired and her temples felt compressed。 She was
thankful for the quiet round her。 Any harsh voice would have been
intolerable to her just then。 There were many sounds in the village；
but they were vague； and mingled； flowing together and composing one
sound that was soothing； the restrained and level voice of Life。 It
hummed in Domini's ears as she sipped her tea； and gave an under…side
of romance to the peace。 The light that floated in under the round
arches of the terrace was subdued。 The sun had just gone down； and the
bright colours bloomed no more upon the mountains； which looked like
silent monsters that had lost the hue of youth and had suddenly become
mysteriously old。 The evening star shone in a sky that still held on
its Western border some last pale glimmerings of day； and； at its
signal； many dusky wanderers folded their loose garments round them；
slung their long guns across their shoulders； and prepared to start on
their journey； helped by the cool night wind that blows in the desert
when the sun departs。
Domini did not know of them； but she felt the near presence of the
desert； and the feeling quieted her nerves。 She was thankful at this
moment that she was travelling without any woman friend and was not
persecuted by any sense of obligation。 In her fatigue； to rest passive
in the midst of quiet； and soft light； calm in the belief； almost the
certainty； that this desert village contained no acquaintance to
disturb her； was to know all the joy she needed for the moment。 She
drank it in dreamily。 Liberty had always been her fetish。 What woman
had more liberty than she had； here on this lonely verandah； with the
shadowy trees below？
The bell of the church near by chimed softly； and the familiar sound
fell strangely upon Domini's ears out here in Africa； reminding her of
many sorrows。 Her religion was linked with terrible memories； with
cruel struggles； with hateful scenes of violence。 Lord Rens had been a
man of passionate temperament。 Strong in goodness when he had been led
by love； he had been equally strong in evil when hate had led him。
Domini had been forced to contemplate at close quarters the raw
character of a warped man； from whom circumstance had stripped all
tenderness； nearly all reticence。 The terror of truth was known to
her。 She had shuddered before it； but she had been obliged to watch it
during many years。 In coming to Beni…Mora she had had a sort of vague；
and almost childish； feeling that she was putting the broad sea
between herself and it。 Yet before she had started it had been buried
in the grave。 She never wished to behold such truth again。 She wanted
to look upon some other truth of lifethe truth of beauty； of calm；
of freedom。 Lord Rens had always been a slave； the slave of love； most
of all when he was filled with hatred； and Domini； influenced by his
example； instinctively connected love with a chain。 Only the love a
human being has for God seemed to her sometimes the finest freedom；
the movement of the soul upward into the infinite obedient to the call
of the great Liberator。 The love of man for woman； of woman for man；
she thought of as imprisonment； bondage。 Was not her mother a slave to
the man who had wrecked her life and carried her spirit beyond the
chance of heaven？ Was not her father a slave to her mother？ She shrank
definitely from the contemplation of herself loving； with all the
strength she suspected in her heart； a human being。 In her religion
only she had felt in rare moments something of love。 And now here； in
this tremendous and conquering land； she felt a divine stirring in her
love for Nature。 For that afternoon Nature； so often calm and
meditative； or gently indifferent； as one too complete to be aware of
those who lack completeness； had impetuously summoned her to worship；
had ardently appealed to her for something more than a temperate
watchfulness or a sober admiration。 There had been a most definite
demand made upon her。 Even in her fatigue and in this dreamy twilight
she was conscious of a latent excitement that was not lulled to sleep。
And as she sat there； while the darkness grew in the sky and spread
secretly along the sandy rills among the trees； she wondered how much
she held within her to give in answer to this cry to her of self…
confident Nature。 Was it only a little？ She did not know。 Perhaps she
was too tired to know。 But however much it was it must seem meagre。
What is even a woman's heart given to the desert or a woman's soul to
the sea？ What is the worship of anyone to the sunset among the hills；
or to the wind that lifts al