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She stopped short。
〃Yes？〃 said the Count。
Both Father Roubier and Androvsky looked at her with expectancy。 But
she did not continue her sentence； and her failure to do so was
covered； or at the least excused； by a diversion that secretly she
blessed。 At this moment； from the ante…room； there came a sound of
African music； both soft and barbarous。 First there was only one
reiterated liquid note； clear and glassy； a note that suggested night
in a remote place。 Then； beneath it； as foundation to it； rose a
rustling sound as of a forest of reeds through which a breeze went
rhythmically。 Into this stole the broken song of a thin instrument
with a timbre rustic and antique as the timbre of the oboe； but
fainter； frailer。 A twang of softly…plucked strings supported its wild
and pathetic utterance； and presently the almost stifled throb of a
little tomtom that must have been placed at a distance。 It was like a
beating heart。
The Count and his guests sat listening in silence。 Domini began to
feel curiously expectant； yet she did not recognise the odd melody。
Her sensation was that some other music must be coming which she had
heard before； which had moved her deeply at some time in her life。 She
glanced at the Count and found him looking at her with a whimsical
expression； as if he were a kind conspirator whose plot would soon be
known。
〃What is it？〃 she asked in a low voice。
He bent towards her。
〃Wait！〃 he whispered。 〃Listen！〃
She saw Androvsky frown。 His face was distorted by an expression of
pain； and she wondered if he； like some Europeans； found the barbarity
of the desert music ugly and even distressing to the nerves。 While she
wondered a voice began to sing； always accompanied by the four
instruments。 It was a contralto voice； but sounded like a youth's。
〃What is that song？〃 she asked under her breath。 〃Surely I must have
heard it！〃
〃You don't know？〃
〃Wait！〃
She searched her heart。 It seemed to her that she knew the song。 At
some period of her life she had certainly been deeply moved by itbut
when？ where？ The voice died away； and was succeeded by a soft chorus
singing monotonously：
〃Wurra…Wurra。〃
Then it rose once more in a dreamy and reticent refrain； like the
voice of a soul communing with itself in the desert； above the
instruments and the murmuring chorus。
〃You remember？〃 whispered the Count。
She moved her head in assent but did not speak。 She could not speak。
It was the song the Arab had sung as he turned into the shadow of the
palm trees； the song of the freed negroes of Touggourt：
〃No one but God and I
Knows what is in my heart。〃
The priest leaned back in his chair。 His dark eyes were cast down； and
his thin； sun…browned hands were folded together in a way that
suggested prayer。 Did this desert song of the black men； children of
God like him as their song affirmed； stir his soul to some grave
petition that embraced the wants of all humanity？
Androvsky was sitting quite still。 He was also looking down and the
lids covered his eyes。 An expression of pain still lingered on his
face； but it was less cruel； no longer tortured； but melancholy。 And
Domini； as she listened； recalled the strange cry that had risen
within her as the Arab disappeared in the sunshine； the cry of the
soul in life surrounded by mysteries； by the hands； the footfalls； the
voices of hidden things〃What is going to happen to me here？〃 But
that cry had risen in her； found words in her； only when confronted by
the desert。 Before it had been perhaps hidden in the womb。 Only then
was it born。 And now the days had passed and the nights； and the song
brought with it the cry once more； the cry and suddenly something
else； another voice that； very far away； seemed to be making answer to
it。 That answer she could not hear。 The words of it were hidden in the
womb as； once； the words of her intense question。 Only she felt that
an answer had been made。 The future knew； and had begun to try to tell
her。 She was on the very edge of knowledge while she listened； but she
could not step into the marvellous land。
Presently Count Anteoni spoke to the priest。
〃You have heard this song； no doubt； Father？〃
Father Roubier shook his head。
〃I don't think so； but I can never remember the Arab music〃
〃Perhaps you dislike it？〃
〃No； no。 It is ugly in a way； but there seems a great deal of meaning
in it。 In this song especially there isone might almost call it
beauty。〃
〃Wonderful beauty；〃 Domini said in a low voice； still listening to the
song。
〃The words are beautiful；〃 said the Count； this time addressing
himself to Androvsky。 〃I don't know them all； but they begin like
this：
〃'The gazelle dies in the water；
The fish dies in the air；
And I die in the dunes of the desert sand
For my love that is deep and sad。'
And when the chorus sounds； as now〃and he made a gesture toward the
inner room； in which the low murmur of 〃 Wurra…Wurra〃 rose again； 〃the
singer reiterates always the same refrain：
〃'No one but God and I
Knows what is in my heart。'〃
Almost as he spoke the contralto voice began to sing the refrain。
Androvsky turned pale。 There were drops of sweat on his forehead。 He
lifted his glass of wine to his lips and his hand trembled so that
some of the wine was spilt upon the tablecloth。 And； as once before；
Domini felt that what moved her deeply moved him even more deeply；
whether in the same way or differently she could not tell。 The image
of the taper and the torch recurred to her mind。 She saw Androvsky
with fire round about him。 The violence of this man surely resembled
the violence of Africa。 There was something terrible about it； yet
also something noble； for it suggested a male power； which might make
for either good or evil； but which had nothing to do with littleness。
For a moment Count Anteoni and the priest were dwarfed； as if they had
come into the presence of a giant。
The Arabs handed round fruit。 And now the song died softly away。 Only
the instruments went on playing。 The distant tomtom was surely the
beating of that heart into whose mysteries no other human heart could
look。 Its reiterated and dim throbbing affected Domini almost
terribly。 She was relieved； yet regretful； when at length it ceased。
〃Shall we go into the ante…room？〃 the Count said。 〃Coffee will be
brought there。〃
〃Oh； butdon't let us see them！〃 Domini exclaimed。
〃The musicians？〃
She nodded。
〃You would rather not hear any more music？〃
〃If you don't mind！〃
He gave an order in Arabic。 One of the servants slipped away and
returned almost immediately。
〃Now we can go；〃 the Count said。 〃They have vanished。〃
The priest sighed。 It was evident that the music had moved him too。 As
they got up he said：
〃Yes； there was beauty in that song and something more。 Some of these
desert poets can teach us to think。〃
〃A dangerous lesson； perhaps；〃 said the Count。 〃What do you say；
Monsieur Androvsky？〃
Androvsky was on his feet。 His eyes were turned toward the door
through which the sound of the music had come。
〃I！〃 he answered。 〃IMonsieur； I am afraid that to me this music
means very little。 I cannot judg