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Updated: June 7, 2025
After he had made his confession to the priest of Beni-Mora who had married them, she led him to the monastery door, and there they parted for ever on earth, to be reunited, as both believed, in heaven. And now, in the garden of Count Anteoni, which has passed into other hands, a little boy may often be seen playing.
As he bent to do it he looked steadily at her, and she could not read the expression in his eyes. "The desert is full of truth. Is that what you mean?" he asked. She made no reply. Count Anteoni stretched out his hand to the shining expanse before them. "The man who is afraid of prayer is unwise to set foot beyond the palm trees," he said. "Why unwise?" He answered her very gravely.
This is my special thinking place." "How strange!" Domini exclaimed impulsively, and leaning forward on the divan. "Is it?" "I only mean that already Beni-Mora has seemed to me the ideal place for that." "For thought?" "For finding out interior truth." Count Anteoni looked at her rather swiftly and searchingly.
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"
After praising the wine he had relapsed into silence, and Count Anteoni she thought moved by a very delicate sense of tact did not directly address him again just then, but resumed the interrupted conversation about the Arabs, first explaining that the servants understood no French.
"La vie de Madame I see it in the sable la vie de Madame dans le grand desert du Sahara." His eyes seemed to rout out the secrets from every corner of her being, and to scatter them upon the ground as the sand was scattered. "Dans le grand desert du Sahara," Count Anteoni repeated, as if he loved the music of the words. "Then there is a desert life for Madame?"
The half-veiled warnings of Count Anteoni and of the priest, followed by the latter's almost passionately abrupt plain speaking, had not been without effect.
Domini was filled with a sort of romantic curiosity. This luxury of palms far out in the midst of desolation, untended apparently by human hands for no figures moved among them, there was no one on the road suggested some hidden purpose and activity, some concealed personage, perhaps an Eastern Anteoni, whose lair lay surely somewhere beyond them.
As he drew close to her she saw a face browned by the sun, a very small, pointed beard, a pair of intensely bright eyes surrounded by wrinkles. These eyes held her. It seemed to her that she knew them, that she had often looked into them and seen their changing expressions. Suddenly she exclaimed: "Count Anteoni!" "Yes, it is I!" He held out his hand and clasped hers.
The good priest, now her intimate friend, Count Anteoni, also her friend and respectful admirer, were ill at ease with him. He had tried to avoid them, but Domini, anxious to bring some pleasure into his life, had introduced him to them at a luncheon given by the count in his garden, despite Androvsky's dogged assertion that he disliked priests, and did not care for social intercourse.
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