The Garden of Allah

an exhausted marionette. Batouch, who had emerged from a third-class compartment before the train stopped, followed them clo

s Madame

looke

Bat

pulled, and cast a glance of dreary suspicion upo

buttons of his jacket glittered brightly. His blue robe floated majestically from his broad shoulders, and the large ta

needed a protector in this mob of shouting brown and black men, who clamoured about them

tel du Desert," Domini

ew minute

like to w

th apprehension. She saw herself toiling over

t into the omnibus a

n a nicely-dressed man, in a long blue coat and indubitable trousers, assist

though the cigarettes many of them were smoking fought against the illusion. Some of them were dressed like Batouch in pale-coloured cloth. They held each other's hands loosely as they sauntered along, chattering in soft contralto voices. Two or three were attended by servants, who walked a pace or two behind them on the left. These were members of great families,

ispered Batouch, looking at the pale ma

hite h

e he is ill inside. That is his brot

ed briskly, urged on by a cracking whip. A big boy with heavy brown eyes was the coachman. By his side sat a very tall young negro with a humorous

Agha's son

ue water that were guided from the desert by a system of dams. The Kaid's mill watched over them and the great wall of the fort. In the tunnel the light was very delicate and tinged with green. The noise of the water flowing was just audible. A few Arabs were sitting on benches in dreamy attitudes, with their heelless slippers hanging from the toes of their bare feet. Be

s; whispering through colour, gleam, and shadow, through the pattern of leaf and rock, through the air, now

rriage rolled by to some house which was hidden in the distance of the oasis. The seated Arabs scarcely disturbed it by their murmured talk. Many of them indeed said nothing, but rested like lotus-ea

talk, and soon bega

in the darkness over the pastimes of the lewd, when the sybarites were sweating under the smoky arches of the Moorish baths, and the marechale of the dancing-girls sat in her flat-roofed house guarding the jewels and the amulets of her gay confederation. These verses were written both in Arabic and in French, and the poet of Paris and his friends had found them beautiful as the dawn, and as the palm trees of Ourlana by the Artesian wells. All the girls of the Ouled Nails were celebrated in t

mes the poet mentioned, his liquid pronunciation of them, his allusions to wild events that had happened long ago in desert places, and to the lives of priests of his old religion, of fanatics, and girls who

ilway carriage when it was recalled to her mind

-looking youth, apparently about twenty-three years old, with a chocolate-brown skin, high cheek bones, long, almond-shaped eyes twinkling with dissipated humour, and a large mouth that smiled showing pointed white teeth. A straggling black moustache sprouted on his upper lip, and long coarse strands of jet-black hair escaped from under the front of a fez that was pushed back on his small head. His neck was th

vement as if to turn round. But he checked it and went on slowly. His guide spoke more and more vehemently, and suddenly, tucking in his chin and displaying his rows of big and dazzling teeth, burst into a gay and boyish laugh, at the same time shaking his head rapidly. Then he shot one last sly look at Domini and hurried on, airily swinging the green bag to and fro. His arms had tiny bones, but they were evidently strong, and he walked with the light ease of a young animal. After he had gone he turned his head once and stared full at Domin

aid Batouch in hi

ad

Beni-Mora, but he, too, has been in

at

abb

f information with quiet

a great deal of money, and now he has none. To

hen he is

guides. But Hadj is always l

m isn't English!"

ionality was, but it had never occurred t

t. They fear the heat. And besides, few English come here now. What a pity! They spend money, and like to see everything. Hadj is very anxious to buy a costume a

dily at Domini with his

peaks Arabi

ke. His whole air and look, his manner of holding himself, of sitting, of walking-yes, especially of walking-were surely foreign. Yet, when she came to think about it, she could not say that they were characteristic of any other country. Idly she ha

ike an Englishman,"

and in Arabic, but Ha

ould Ha

near to the Catholic church, Madame. You will see it through the trees. And there is Mo

But suddenly Domini saw him pause and hesitate. He bent down and seemed to be doing something to his boot. Hadj dropped the green bag, and was evidently about to kneel down, and assist him when he lifted himself up abruptly and looked before him, as if at the priest who was approaching, then turned sharply t

is!" said Batouch. "W

lding, with a white wooden door set in an arch. Above the arch were a small cross, two windows with rounded tops, a clock, and a white tower with a p

on the unknown man. His appearance and manner were

hotel, Madame!

e priest's house, a white building shaded by date palms and pepper trees. As they drew near the stranger reappeare

ert could be seen beyond the palms. There seemed to be no guests in the hotel. The verandah was deserted, and the peace of the soft evening was profound. Against the white parapet a small, round table and a cane armchair had been placed. A subdued patter of feet in slippers came up t

ini's ears as she sipped her tea, and gave an under-side of romance to the peace. The light that floated in under the round arches of the terrace was subdued. The sun had just gone down, and the bright colours bloomed no more upon the mountains, which looked like silent monsters that had lost the hue of youth and had suddenly become mysteriously ol

ed by any sense of obligation. In her fatigue, to rest passive in the midst of quiet, and soft light, calm in the belief, almost the certainty, that this desert village contained no acquaintance to disturb her, w

tting the broad sea between herself and it. Yet before she had started it had been buried in the grave. She never wished to behold such truth again. She wanted to look upon some other truth of life-the truth of beauty, of calm, of freedom. Lord Rens had always been a slave, the slave of love, most of all when he was filled with hatred, and Domini, influenced by his example, instinctively connected love with a chain. Only the love a human being has for God seemed to her sometimes the finest freedom; the movement of the soul upward into the infinite obedient to the call of the great Liberator. The love of man for woman, of woman for man, she thought of as imprisonment, bondage. Was not her mother a slave to the man who had wrecked her life and carried her spirit beyond the chance of heaven?

ry to her of self-confident Nature. Was it only a little? She did not know. Perhaps she was too tired to know. But however much it was it must seem meagre. What is even a woman's heart

y poor woman, who can never know the joy of gi

France, as people in exile talk of their country, with the deliberateness that would conceal regret and the child's instinctive affection for the mother. Their voices made Domini think again of the recruits, and then, because of them, of Notre Dam

ich kept her motionless as an idol in her chair, with her arm lying along the parapet of the verandah, Domini felt as if a confused crowd of things indefinable, but violent, was

It was at some distance behind her. It crossed the verandah and stopped. She felt quite certain that it was the step of her fel

nto the fruit gardens, where the white figure

disagreeable. Yet, in sum, what was their meaning? The sketch they traced was so slight, so confused, that it told little. The last incident was the strangest. And again she saw the long and luminous pathway of the tunnel, flickering with light and shade, carpeted with the pale reflections of the leaves and narrow b

increased. She could still hear the voices of the soldiers in

, and the voices died away. The church bell chimed again. As it did so Domini heard heavy and

e!" she

awning, with various

Mademo

a-manger to-night. Tell them to

Mademo

who was on the ve

looked

Mademoisel

near the c

y in getting to Mass. She will not b

ni s

e to be among th

re dirty and very dangerous. They carry kn

tly about them in the morning

bout it at once

, walking as one wh

round his head, and looked like a young high priest of some ornate religion. He suggested that Domini should

I must go to bed. I have

he night I compose verses. My bra

may be here for a long time. I shall

looked di

the door waiting for him now. But Hadj is afr

hy

sh. She was sent away from Beni-Mora for six months, but she has

s he don

ith the gentleman because he must earn money to buy a costum

jacket he had thrown a thin white burnous, which hung round him in classic folds. Domini could scarcely believe that so magnific

go out to-night," s

The dawn in the garden of the gazelles is like the flames of Paradise,

get up earl

eived the poet, who walked slowly past her to the staircase, throwing his burnous back from his big shoulders, and stood looking after him. Her eyes fixed themselves

ent she saw two figures come out from beneath the verandah and pause there. Hadj was one, the stranger was the other. The stranger struck a match and tried

will permit m

e cigar hastily from his

moke," Domini hear

way with Hadj in

aint shrieking in the distance. It w

ll and very dark. Suzanne, standing at her window, looked like a shadow in her black dress. Her attitude was rom

smote upon Domini's heart with a sense of trouble, almost of tragedy. The pulses in her temples throbbed, and she clasped her hands tightly together. That brief moment, in which she heard the duet of those two voices

and down on the verandah. The step was heavy and shuffling. It came and went, came and went, without

d Virgin, looking towards Africa. For the first time she fel