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fancied that there was enmity in their eyes。 Beyond them； upon an
uneven pavement surrounded with lofty walls； more Arabs were gathered；
kneeling； bowing their heads to the ground； and muttering ceaseless
words in deep； almost growling； voices。 Their fingers slipped over the
beads of the chaplets they wore round their necks； and Domini thought
of her rosary。 Some prayed alone； removed in shady corners； with faces
turned to the wall。 Others were gathered into knots。 But each one
pursued his own devotions； immersed in a strange； interior solitude to
which surely penetrated an unseen ray of sacred light。 There were
young boys praying； and old； wrinkled men； eagles of the desert； with
fierce eyes that did not soften as they cried the greatness of Allah；
the greatness of his Prophet； but gleamed as if their belief were a
thing of flame and bronze。 The boys sometimes glanced at each other
while they prayed； and after each glance they swayed with greater
violence； and bowed down with more passionate abasement。 The vision of
prayer had stirred them to a young longing for excess。 The spirit of
emulation flickered through them and turned their worship into war。
In a second and smaller court before the portal of the mosque men were
learning the Koran。 Dressed in white they sat in circles； holding
squares of some material that looked like cardboard covered with
minute Arab characters； pretty； symmetrical curves and lines； dots and
dashes。 The teachers squatted in the midst； expounding the sacred text
in nasal voices with a swiftness and vivacity that seemed pugnacious。
There was violence within these courts。 Domini could imagine the
worshippers springing up from their knees to tear to pieces an
intruding dog of an unbeliever； then sinking to their knees again
while the blood trickled over the sun…dried pavement and the lifeless
body； lay there to rot and draw the flies。
〃Allah！ Allah！ Allah！〃
There was something imperious in such ardent； such concentrated and
untiring worship； a demand which surely could not be overlooked or set
aside。 The tameness； the half…heartedness of Western prayer and
Western praise had no place here。 This prayer was hot as the sunlight；
this praise was a mounting fire。 The breath of this human incense was
as the breath of a furnace pouring forth to the gates of the Paradise
of Allah。 It gave to Domini a quite new conception of religion； of the
relation between Creator and created。 The personal pride which； like
blood in a body； runs through all the veins of the mind of
Mohammedanism； that measureless hauteur which sets the soul of a
Sultan in the twisted frame of a beggar at a street corner； and makes
impressive； even almost majestical； the filthy marabout； quivering
with palsy and devoured by disease； who squats beneath a holy bush
thick with the discoloured rags of the faithful； was not abased at the
shrine of the warrior； Zerzour； was not cast off in the act of
adoration。 These Arabs humbled themselves in the body。 Their foreheads
touched the stones。 By their attitudes they seemed as if they wished
to make themselves even with the ground； to shrink into the space
occupied by a grain of sand。 Yet they were proud in the presence of
Allah； as if the firmness of their belief in him and his right
dealing； the fury of their contempt and hatred for those who looked
not towards Mecca nor regarded Ramadan； gave them a patent of
nobility。 Despite their genuflections they were all as men who knew；
and never forgot； that on them was conferred the right to keep on
their head…covering in the presence of their King。 With their closed
eyes they looked God full in the face。 Their dull and growling murmur
had the majesty of thunder rolling through the sky。
Mustapha had disappeared within the mosque； leaving Domini and
Androvsky for the moment alone in the midst of the worshippers。 From
the shadowy interior came forth a ceaseless sound of prayer to join
the prayer without。 There was a narrow stone seat by the mosque door
and she sat down upon it。 She felt suddenly weary； as one being
hypnotised feels weary when the body and spirit begin to yield to the
spell of the operator。 Androvsky remained standing。 His eyes were
fixed on the ground； and she thought his face looked almost phantom…
like； as if the blood had sunk away from it； leaving it white beneath
the brown tint set there by the sun。 He stayed quite still。 The dark
shadow cast by the towering mosque fell upon him； and his immobile
figure suggested to her ranges of infinite melancholy。 She sighed as
one oppressed。 There was an old man praying near them at the threshold
of the door； with his face turned towards the interior。 He was very
thin； almost a skeleton； was dressed in rags through which his copper…
coloured body； sharp with scarce…covered bones； could be seen； and had
a scanty white beard sticking up； like a brush； at the tip of his
pointed chin。 His face； worn with hardship and turned to the likeness
of parchment by time and the action of the sun； was full of senile
venom； and his toothless mouth； with its lips folded inwards； moved
perpetually； as if he were trying to bite。 With rhythmical regularity；
like one obeying a conductor； he shot forth his arms towards the
mosque as if he wished to strike it； withdrew them； paused； then shot
them forth again。 And as his arms shot forth he uttered a prolonged
and trembling shriek； full of weak； yet intense； fury。
He was surely crying out upon God； denouncing God for the evils that
had beset his nearly ended life。 Poor； horrible old man！ Androvsky was
closer to him than she was； but did not seem to notice him。 Once she
had seen him she could not take her eyes from him。 His perpetual
gesture； his perpetual shriek； became abominable to her in the midst
of the bowing bodies and the humming voices of prayer。 Each time he
struck at the mosque and uttered his piercing cry she seemed to hear
an oath spoken in a sanctuary。 She longed to stop him。 This one
blasphemer began to destroy for her the mystic atmosphere created by
the multitudes of adorers； and at last she could no longer endure his
reiterated enmity。
She touched Androvsky's arm。 He started and looked at her。
〃That old man；〃 she whispered。 〃Can't you speak to him？〃
Androvsky glanced at him for the first time。
〃Speak to him； Madame？ Why？〃
〃Hehe's horrible！〃
She felt a sudden disinclination to tell Androvsky why the old man was
horrible to her。
〃What do you wish me to say to him？〃
〃I thought perhaps you might be able to stop him from doing that。〃
Androvsky bent down and spoke to the old man in Arabic。
He shot out his arms and reiterated his trembling shriek。 It pierced
the sound of prayer as lightning pierces cloud。
Domini got up quickly。
〃I can't bear it；〃 she said； still in a whisper。 〃It's as if he were
cursing God。〃
Androvsky looked at the old man again； this time with profound
attention。
〃Isn't it？〃 she said。 〃Isn't it as if he were cursing God while the
whole world worshipped？ And that one cry of hatred seems louder than
the praises of the whole world。〃
〃We can't stop it。〃
Something in his voice made her say abruptly：
〃