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unpleasantly conscious of her observation。 This vexed her vaguely；
perhaps because even so trifling a circumstance was like a thin link
between them。 She snapped it by ceasing to look at or think of him。
The window was down。 A delicate and warm breeze drifted in； coming
from the thickets of the palms。 In flashing out of the darkness of the
gorge Domini had had the sensation of passing into a new world and a
new atmosphere。 The sensation stayed with her now that she was no
longer dreaming or giving the reins to her imagination； but was calmly
herself。 Against the terrible rampart of rock the winds beat across
the land of the Tell。 But they die there frustrated。 And the rains
journey thither and fail； sinking into the absinthe…coloured pools of
the gorge。 And the snows and even the clouds stop； exhausted in their
pilgrimage。 The gorge is not their goal； but it is their grave； and
the desert never sees their burial。 So Domini's first sense of casting
away the known remained； and even grew； but now strongly and quietly。
It was well founded； she thought。 For she looked out of the carriage
window towards the barrier she was leaving； and saw that on this side；
guarding the desert from the world that is not desert； it was pink in
the evening light； deepening here and there to rose colour； whereas on
the far side it had a rainy hue as of rocks in England。 And there was
a lustre of gold in the hills； tints of glowing bronze slashed with a
red line as the heart of a wound； but recalling the heart of a flower。
The folds of the earth glistened。 There was flame down there in the
river bed。 The wreckage of the land； the broken fragments； gleamed as
if braided with precious things。 Everywhere the salt crystals sparkled
with the violence of diamonds。 Everywhere there was a strength of
colour that hurled itself to the gaze； unabashed and almost savage；
the colour of summer that never ceases； of heat that seldom dies； in a
land where there is no autumn and seldom a flitting cold。
Down on the road near the village there were people； old men playing
the 〃lady's game〃 with stones set in squares of sand； women peeping
from flat roofs and doorways； children driving goats。 A man； like a
fair and beautiful Christ； with long hair and a curling beard； beat on
the ground with a staff and howled some tuneless notes。 He was dressed
in red and green。 No one heeded him。 A distant sound of the beating of
drums rose in the air； mingled with piercing cries uttered by a nasal
voice。 And as if below it； like the orchestral accompaniment of a
dramatic solo； hummed many blending noises； faint calls of labourers
in the palm…gardens and of women at the wells； chatter of children in
dusky courts sheltered with reeds and pale…stemmed grasses； dim
pipings of homeward…coming shepherds drowned； with their pattering
charges； in the golden vapours of the west； soft twitterings of birds
beyond brown walls in green seclusions； dull barking of guard dogs；
mutter of camel drivers to their velvet…footed beasts。
The caravan which Domini had seen descending into the gorge
reappeared； moving deliberately along the desert road towards the
south。 A watch…tower peeped above the palms。 Doves were circling round
it。 Many of them were white。 They flew like ivory things above this
tower of glowing bronze； which slept at the foot of the pink rocks。 On
the left rose a mass of blood…red earth and stone。 Slanting rays of
the sun struck it； and it glowed mysteriously like a mighty jewel。
As Domini leaned out of the window； and the salt crystals sparkled to
her eyes； and the palms swayed languidly above the waters； and the
rose and mauve of the hills； the red and orange of the earth； streamed
by in the flames of the sun before the passing train like a barbaric
procession； to the sound of the hidden drums； the cry of the hidden
priest； and all the whispering melodies of these strange and unknown
lives； tears started into her eyes。 The entrance into this land of
flame and colour； through its narrow and terrific portal； stirred her
almost beyond her present strength。 The glory of this world mounted to
her heart； oppressing it。 The embrace of Nature was so violent that it
crushed her。 She felt like a little fly that had sought to wing its
way to the sun and； at a million miles' distance from it； was being
shrivelled by its heat。 When all the voices of the village fainted
away she was glad； although she strained her ears to hear their fading
echoes。 Suddenly she knew that she was very tired； so tired that
emotions acted upon her as physical exertion acts upon an exhausted
man。 She sat down and shut her eyes。 For a long time she stayed with
her eyes shut； but she knew that on the windows strange lights were
glittering； that the carriage was slowly filling with the ineffable
splendours of the west。 Long afterwards she often wondered whether she
endowed the sunset of that day with supernatural glories because she
was so tired。 Perhaps the salt mountain of El…Alia did not really
sparkle like the celestial mountains in the visions of the saints。
Perhaps the long chain of the Aures did not really look as if all its
narrow clefts had been powdered with the soft and bloomy leaves of
unearthly violets； and the desert was not cloudy in the distance
towards the Zibans with the magical blue she thought she saw there； a
blue neither of sky nor sea； but like the hue at the edge of a flame
in the heart of a wood fire。 She often wondered； but she never knew。
The sound of a movement made her look up。 Her companion was changing
his place and going to the other side of the compartment。 He walked
softly； no doubt with the desire not to disturb Domini。 His back was
towards her for an instant； and she noticed that he was a powerful
man； though very thin； and that his gait was heavy。 It made her think
again of his labourer's hands； and she began to wonder idly what was
his rank and what he did。 He sat down in the far corner on the same
side as herself and stared out of his window； crossing his legs。 He
wore large boots with square toes； clumsy and unfashionable； but
comfortable and good for walking in。 His clothes had obviously been
made by a French tailor。 The stuff of them was grey and woolly； and
they were cut tighter to the figure than English clothes generally
are。 He had on a black silk necktie； and a soft brown travelling hat
dented in the middle。 By the way in which he looked out of the window；
Domini judged that he； too； was seeing the desert for the first time。
There was something almost passionately attentive in his attitude；
something of strained eagerness in that part of his face which she
could see from where she was sitting。 His cheek was not pale； as she
had thought at first； but brown； obviously burnt by the sun of Africa。
But she felt that underneath the sunburn there was pallor。 She fancied
he might be a painter； and was noting all the extraordinary colour
effects with the definiteness of a man who meant； perhaps； to
reproduce them on canvas。
The light； which had now the peculiar； almost supernatural softness
and limpidity of light falling at evening from a declining sun in a
hot country； came f