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"Madame is very strong. Madame walks like a Bedouin." Batouch's voice sounded seriously astonished, and Domini burst out laughing. "In England there are many strong women. But I shall grow stronger here. I shall become a real Arab. This air gives me life."
In front, where the road came out from the shadows of the last trees, lay a vast dimness, not wholly unlike another starless sky, stretched beneath the starry sky in which the moon had not yet risen. She set her horse at a gallop and came into the desert, rushing through the dark. "Madame! Madame!" Batouch's voice was calling her. She galloped faster, like one in flight.
It made Domini smile in sympathy, but De Trevignac and Androvsky looked at each other for a moment, the one with a sort of earnest inquiry, the other with hostility, or what seemed hostility, across the circle of lamplight that lay between them. "A tower rising in the desert emphasises the desolation. I suppose that was it," Androvsky said, as the laugh died down into Batouch's throaty chuckle.
It was as if at that moment she read the same story written in two ways by a woman and by a man, as if she saw Eden, not only as Eve saw it, but as Adam. A long time passed, but they did not feel it to be long. When their camel halted they unclasped their hands slowly like sleepers reluctantly awaking. They heard Batouch's voice outside the palanquin. "Madame!" he called. "Madame!"
As she rode into the city she glanced at the house. The door was open and she saw the gay rugs in the little hall. She had a strong inclination to stop and ask if her husband were there. He might mount Batouch's horse and accompany her home. "Batouch," she said, "will you ask if Monsieur Androvsky is with Pere Beret. I think " She stopped speaking.
He began to speak in Arabic to Hadj, but she stopped him with an imperious gesture, gave Hadj his fee, and in a moment was in the saddle and cantering away into the dark. She heard the gallop of Batouch's horse coming up behind her and turned her head. "Batouch," she said, "you are the smartest" she used the word chic "Arab here.
She did not feel afraid, but only indignant, like a boy who has been struck in the face and longs to retaliate. Someone screamed again. It was Hadj. Suzanne was on her feet, but separated from her mistress. Batouch's arm was round her.
"The wind is going down, Batouch-ben-Brahim," responded Ali, calmly. "This evening the Roumis can lie in the tents." Batouch's thick lips curled with sarcasm. He spat into the wind, blew his nose in his burnous, and answered: "You are a child, and can sing a pretty song, but " Ali pointed with his delicate hand towards the south. "Do you not see the light in the sky?"
Domini looked at it and at the two sharp knives above her head, looked at her violent, shuddering movements, and shuddered too, thinking of Batouch's story of murdered dancers. It was dangerous to have too much in Beni-Mora. Irena was quite close now.
He threw his burnous over his left shoulder with a sudden gesture of despair that was full of exaggeration. Domini smiled. "You've been very good to-day," she said. "I am always good, Madame. I am of a serious disposition. Not one keeps Ramadan as I do." "I am sure of it. Go downstairs and wait for me under the arcade." Batouch's large face became suddenly a rendezvous of all the gaieties.
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