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it was her previous flight upward which had caused this descent into a
place which had surely never before been visited by a human soul。 All
the selflessness suddenly vanished from her； and was replaced by a
burning sense of her own personality； of what was due to it； of what
had been done to it； of what it now was。 She saw it like a cloth that
had been white and that now was stained with indelible filth。 And
anger came upon her； a bitter fury； in which she was inclined to cry
out； not only against man； but against God。 The strength of her nature
was driven into a wild bitterness； the sweet waters became acrid with
salt。 She had been able a moment before to say to Androvsky； almost
with tenderness； 〃Now at last you can pray。〃 Now she was on her knees
hating him； hatingyes； surely hatingGod。 It was a frightful
sensation。
Soul and body felt defiled。 She saw Androvsky coming into her clean
life； seizing her like a prey； rolling her in filth that could never
be cleansed。 And who had allowed him to do her this deadly wrong？ God。
And she was on her knees to this God who had permitted this！ She was
in the attitude of worship。 Her whole being rebelled against prayer。
It seemed to her as if she made a furious physical effort to rise from
her knees； but as if her body was paralysed and could not obey her
will。 She remained kneeling； therefore； like a woman tied down； like a
blasphemer bound by cords in the attitude of prayer； whose soul was
shrieking insults against heaven。
Presently she remembered that outside Androvsky was praying； that she
had meant to join with him in prayer。 She had contemplated； then； a
further； deeper union with him。 Was she a madwoman？ Was she a slave？
Was she as one of those women of history who； seized in a rape；
resigned themselves to love and obey their captors？ She began to hate
herself。 And still she knelt。 Anyone coming in at the tent door would
have seen a woman apparently entranced in an ecstasy of worship。
This great love of hers； to what had it brought her？ This awakening of
her soul； what was its meaning？ God had sent a man to rouse her from
sleep that she might look down into hell。 Again and again； with
ceaseless reiteration； she recalled the incidents of her passion in
the desert。 She thought of the night at Arba when Androvsky blew out
the lamp。 That night had been to her a night of consecration。 Nothing
in her soul had risen up to warn her。 No instinct； no woman's
instinct； had stayed her from unwitting sin。 The sand…diviner had been
wiser than she； Count Anteoni more far…seeing； the priest of Beni…Mora
more guided by holiness； by the inner flame that flickers before the
wind that blows out of the caverns of evil。 God had blinded her in
order that she might fall； had brought Androvsky to her in order that
her religion； her Catholic faith； might be made hideous to her for
ever。 She trembled all over as she knelt。 Her life had been sad； even
tormented。 And she had set out upon a pilgrimage to find peace。 She
had been led to Beni…Mora。 She remembered her arrival in Africa； its
spell descending upon her； her sensation of being far off； of having
left her former life with its sorrows for ever。 She remembered the
entrancing quiet of Count Anteoni's garden； how as she entered it she
seemed to be entering an earthly Paradise； a place prepared by God for
one who was weary as she was weary； for one who longed to be renewed
as she longed to be renewed。 And in that Paradise； in the inmost
recess of it； she had put her hands against Androvsky's temples and
given her life； her fate； her heart into his keeping。 That was why the
garden was there； that she might be led to commit this frightful
action in it。 Her soul felt physically sick。 As to her bodybut just
then she scarcely thought of the body。 For she was thinking of her
soul as of a body； as if it were the core of the body blackened；
sullied； destroyed for ever。 She was hot with shame； she was hot with
a fiery indignation。 Always； since she was a child； if she were
suddenly touched by anyone whom she did not love； she had had an
inclination to strike a blow on the one who touched her。 Now it was as
if an unclean hand had been laid on her soul。 And the soul quivered
with longing to strike back。
Again she thought of Beni…Mora； of all that had taken place there。 She
realised that during her stay there a crescendo of calm had taken
place within her； calm of the spirit； a crescendo of strength；
spiritual strength； a crescendo of faith and of hope。 The religion
which had almost seemed to be slipping from her she had grasped firmly
again。 Her soul had arrived in Beni…Mora an invalid and had become a
convalescent。
It had been reclining wearily； fretfully。 In Beni…Mora it had stood
up； walked； sung as the morning stars sang together。 But thenwhy？ If
this was to be the endwhywhy？
And at this question she paused； as before a great portal that was
shut。 She went back。 She thought again of this beautiful crescendo； of
this gradual approach to the God from whom she had been if not
entirely separated at any rate set a little apart。 Could it have been
only in order that her catastrophe might be the more complete； her
downfall the more absolute？
And then； she knew not why； she seemed to see in the hands that were
pressed against her face words written in fire； and to read them
slowly as a child spelling out a great lesson； with an intense
attention； with a labour whose result would be eternal recollection：
〃Love watcheth； and sleeping； slumbereth not。 When weary it is not
tired； when straitened it is not constrained； when frightened it is
not disturbed； but like a vivid flame and a burning torch it mounteth
upwards and securely passeth through all。 Whosover loveth knoweth the
cry of this voice。〃
The cry of this voice！ At that moment； in the vast silence of the
desert； she seemed to hear it。 And it was the cry of her own voice。 It
was the cry of the voice of her own soul。 Startled； she lifted her
face from her hands and listened。 She did not look out at the tent
door； but she saw the moonlight falling upon the matting that was
spread upon the sand within the tent； and she repeated； 〃Love
watchethLove watchethLove watcheth；〃 moving her lips like the
child who reads with difficulty。 Then came the thought； 〃I am
watching。〃
The passion of personal anger had died away as suddenly as it had
come。 She felt numb and yet excited。 She leaned forward and once more
laid her face in her hands。
〃Love watchethI am watching。〃 Then a momentthen〃God is watching
me。〃
She whispered the words over again and again。 And the numbness began
to pass away。 And the anger was dead。 Always she had felt as if she
had been led to Africa for some definite end。 Did not the freed
negroes； far out in the Desert； sing their song of the deeper
mysteries〃No one but God and I knows what is in my heart〃？ And had
not she heard it again and again； and each time with a sense of awe？
She had always thought that the words were wonderful and beautiful。
But she had thought that perhaps they were not true。 She had said to
Androvsky that he knew what was in her heart。 And now； in this night；
in its intense stillness； close to the man who for so long had not
dared to pray but who now was praying； again she thought that they
were not quite true。 It seemed to her that she did not know what was
in her heart； and that she was waiting there for God to come and tell
her。 Would He come？ She waited。 Patience entered into her。
The silence was long。 Night was travelling； turning her thoughts to a
distant world。 The moon waned； and a faint breath of wind that was
almost cold stole over the sands； among the graves in the cemetery； to
the man and the woman who were keeping vigil upon their knees。 The
wind died away almost ere it had risen； and the rigid silence that
precedes the dawn held the desert in its grasp。 And God came to Domini
in the silence； Allah through Allah's garden that was shrouded still
in the shadows of night。 Once； as she journeyed through the roaring of
the storm； she had listened for the voice of the desert。 And as the
desert took her its voice had spoken to her in a sudden and magical
silence； in a falling of the wind。 Now； in a more magical silence； the
voice of God spoke to her。 And the voice of the desert and of God were
as one。 As she knelt she heard God telling her what was in her heart。
It was a strange and passionate revelation。 She trembled as she heard。
And sometimes she was inclined to say； 〃It is not so。〃 And sometimes
she was afraid； afraid of what thisall this that was in her heart
would lead her to do。 For God told her of a strength which she had not
known her heart possessed； whichso it seemed to hershe did not
wish it to possess； of a strength from which something within her
shrank； against which something within her protested。 But God would
not be denied。 He told her she had this strength。 He told her that she
must use it。 He told her that she would use it。 And she began to
understand something of the mystery of the purposes of God in relation
to herself； and to understand； with it； how closely companioned even
those who strive after effacement of