Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 7, 2025
Androvsky came to the doorway of the fumoir without looking up, stood still there just where Count Anteoni had stood during his first interview with Domini and said: "Domini, I have been to the priest. I have made my confession." "Yes," she said. "Yes, Boris!" He came into the fumoir and sat down near her, but not close to her, on one of the divans.
While he was away, Domini was visited first by Count Anteoni, who told her that he had joined the Mohammedan religion, and was at last happy and at peace; secondly, when night had fallen, by the priest of Amara. This man was talkative and genial, fond of the good things of life. Domini offered him a cigar. He accepted it.
"Monsieur Anteoni has gone, I suppose, Madame?" "Yes, he has gone. I reached the garden safely, you see." "Batouch came later. He was much ashamed when he found you had gone. I believe he is afraid, and is hiding himself till your anger shall have passed away." She laughed. "Batouch could not easily make me angry. I am not like you, Monsieur Androvsky."
In it she saw the priest with a fanatical look of warning in his eyes, Count Anteoni beneath the trees of his garden, the perfume-seller in his dark bazaar, Irena with her long throat exposed and her thin arms drooping, the sand-diviner spreading forth his hands, Androvsky galloping upon a horse as if pursued. This last vision returned again and again.
The colours everywhere deepened as day failed. The desert spirits were at work. She thought of Count Anteoni again, and resolved to go round to the other side of the tower. As she moved to do this she heard once more the shifting of a foot on the plaster floor, then a step. Evidently she had infected him with an intention similar to her own.
"I'm glad," she said in a finishing tone. And she went away. Now Count Anteoni told her that he had invited the priest. She felt vexed, and her face showed that she did. A cloud came down and immediately she looked changed and disquieting. Yet she liked the priest. As she sat in silence her vexation became more profound.
This man intruded himself, no doubt unconsciously, or even against his will, into her sight, her thoughts, each time that she was on the point of giving herself to what Count Anteoni called "the desert spirits." So it had been when the train ran out of the tunnel into the blue country. So it had been again when she leaned on the white wall and gazed out over the shining fastnesses of the sun.
He stopped. His voice had sounded to her bitter, almost fierce. "Yes, Boris, he is changed. Have you ever seen anyone who was lost, and the same person walking along the road home? Well, that is Count Anteoni." They said no more for some minutes. Androvsky was the first to speak again. "You told him?" he asked. "About ourselves?" "Yes." "I told him." "What did he say?" "He had expected it.
"To-day, Boris, when I talked to Count Anteoni, I felt that I had been a coward with you. I had seen you suffer and I had not dared to draw near to your suffering. I have been afraid of you. Think of that." "No." "Yes, I have been afraid of you, of your reserve. When you withdrew from me I never followed you. If I had, perhaps I could have done something for you." "Domini, do not speak like this.
She wished to be strictly truthful, and to-night she was not sure that the words of the priest had made no impression upon her. "For long!" he repeated. Then he said abruptly, "The priest hates me." "No." "And Count Anteoni?" "You interested Count Anteoni greatly." "Interested him!" His voice sounded intensely suspicious in the night. "Don't you wish to interest anyone?
Word Of The Day
Others Looking