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disappeared among the trees。
〃I hope you will allow me to accompany you through the rest of the
garden；〃 he said； turning again to Domini。 〃It will give me great
pleasure。〃
〃It is very kind of you。〃
The way in which the change of companion had been effected made it
seem a pleasant； inevitable courtesy； which neither implied nor
demanded anything。
〃This is my little retreat；〃 Count Anteoni continued； standing aside
from the doorway that Domini might enter。
She drew a long breath when she was within。
The floor was of fine sand； beaten flat and hard； and strewn with
Eastern rugs of faint and delicate hues； dim greens and faded rose
colours； grey…blues and misty topaz yellows。 Round the white walls ran
broad divans； also white； covered with prayer rugs from Bagdad； and
large cushions； elaborately worked in dull gold and silver thread；
with patterns of ibises and flamingoes in flight。 In the four angles
of the room stood four tiny smoking…tables of rough palm wood； holding
hammered ash…trays of bronze； green bronze torches for the lighting of
cigarettes； and vases of Chinese dragon china filled with velvety red
roses； gardenias and sprigs of orange blossom。 Leather footstools；
covered with Tunisian thread…work； lay beside them。 From the arches of
the window…spaces hung old Moorish lamps of copper； fitted with small
panes of dull jewelled glass； such as may be seen in venerable church
windows。 In a round copper brazier； set on one of the window…seats；
incense twigs were drowsily burning and giving out thin； dwarf columns
of scented smoke。 Through the archways and the narrow doorway the
dense walls of leafage were visible standing on guard about this airy
hermitage； and the hot purple blossoms of the bougainvillea shed a
cloud of colour through the bosky dimness。
And still the flute of Larbi showered soft； clear； whimsical music
from some hidden place close by。
Domini looked at her host； who was standing by the doorway； leaning
one arm against the ivory…white wall。
〃This is my first day in Africa；〃 she said simply。 〃You may imagine
what I think of your garden； what I feel in it。 I needn't tell you。
Indeed； I am sure the travellers you so kindly let in must often have
worried you with their raptures。〃
〃No；〃 he answered； with a still gravity which yet suggested kindness；
〃for I leave nearly always before the travellers come。 That sounds a
little rude？ But you would not be in Beni…Mora at this season； Madame；
if it could include you。〃
〃I have come here for peace；〃 Domini replied simply。
She said it because she felt as if it was already understood by her
companion。
Count Anteoni took down his arm from the white wall and pulled a
branch of the purple flowers slowly towards him through the doorway。
〃There is peacewhat is generally called so； at leastin Beni…Mora；〃
he answered rather slowly and meditatively。 〃That is to say； there is
similarity of day with day； night with night。 The sun shines
untiringly over the desert； and the desert always hints at peace。〃
He let the flowers go； and they sprang softly back； and hung quivering
in the space beyond his thin figure。 Then he added：
〃Perhaps one should not say more than that。〃
〃No。〃
Domini sat down for a moment。 She looked up at him with her direct
eyes and at the shaking flowers。 The sound of Larbi's flute was always
in her ears。
〃But may not one think； feel a little more？〃 she asked。
〃Oh； why not？ If one can； if one must？ But how？ Africa is as fierce
and full of meaning as a furnace； you know。〃
〃Yes； I knowalready；〃 she replied。
His words expressed what she had already felt here in Beni…Mora；
surreptitiously and yet powerfully。 He said it； and last night the
African hautboy had said it。 Peace and a flame。 Could they exist
together； blended； married？
〃Africa seems to me to agree through contradiction；〃 she added；
smiling a little； and touching the snowy wall with her right hand。
〃But then； this is my first day。〃
〃Mine was when I was a boy of sixteen。〃
〃This garden wasn't here then？〃
〃No。 I had it made。 I came here with my mother。 She spoilt me。 She let
me have my whim。〃
〃This garden is your boy's whim？〃
〃It was。 Now it is a man's〃
He seemed to hesitate。
〃Paradise；〃 suggested Domini。
〃I think I was going to say hiding…place。〃
There was no bitterness in his odd； ugly voice； yet surely the words
implied bitterness。 The wounded； the fearful； the disappointed； the
condemned hide。 Perhaps he remembered this； for he added rather
quickly：
〃I come here to be foolish； Madame； for I come here to think。 This is
my special thinking place。〃
〃How strange！〃 Domini exclaimed impulsively； and leaning forward on
the divan。
〃Is it？〃
〃I only mean that already Beni…Mora has seemed to me the ideal place
for that。〃
〃For thought？〃
〃For finding out interior truth。〃
Count Anteoni looked at her rather swiftly and searchingly。 His eyes
were not large； but they were bright； and held none of the languor so
often seen in the eyes of his countrymen。 His face was expressive
through its mobility rather than through its contours。 The features
were small and refined； not noble； but unmistakably aristocratic。 The
nose was sensitive； with wide nostrils。 A long and straight moustache；
turning slightly grey； did not hide the mouth； which had unusually
pale lips。 The ears were set very flat against the head； and were
finely shaped。 The chin was pointed。 The general look of the whole
face was tense； critical； conscious； but in the defiant rather than in
the timid sense。 Such an expression belongs to men who would always be
aware of the thoughts and feelings of others concerning them； but who
would throw those thoughts and feelings off as decisively and
energetically as a dog shakes the waterdrops from its coat on emerging
from a swim。
〃And sending it forth； like Ishmael； to shift for itself in the
desert；〃 he said。
The odd remark sounded like neither statement nor question； merely
like the sudden exclamation of a mind at work。
〃Will you allow me to take you through the rest of the garden；
Madame？〃 he added in a more formal voice。
〃Thank you；〃 said Domini； who had already got up； moved by the
examining look cast at her。
There was nothing in it to resent； and she had not resented it； but it
had recalled her to the consciousness that they were utter strangers
to each other。
As they came out on the pale riband of sand which circled the little
room Domini said：
〃How wild and extraordinary that tune is！〃
〃Larbi's。 I suppose it is； but no African music seems strange to me。 I
was born on my father's estate； near Tunis。 He was a Sicilian； but
came to North Africa each winter。 I have always heard the tomtoms and
the pipes； and I know nearly all the desert songs of the nomads。〃
〃This is a love…song； isn't it？〃
〃Yes。 Larbi is always in love； they tell me。 Each new dancer catches
him in her net。 Happy Larbi！〃
〃Because he can love so easily？〃
〃Or unlove so easily。 Look at him； Madame。〃
At a little distance； under a big banana tree； and half hidden by
clumps of scarlet geraniums； Domini saw a huge and very ugly Arab；
with