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Updated: June 12, 2025
At last Domini said, in a low voice: "I heard that note on the night when I rode out of Beni-Mora to see the moon rise in the desert. Boris, you remember that night?" "Yes," he answered. He was gazing at the pool, with his face partly averted from her, one hand on the wall, the other resting on his knee. "You were brave that night, Boris," she said. "I I wished to be I tried to be.
She was resolved to get a full and delicately complete first impression of Beni-Mora, and to do that she knew that she must detach herself from close human contact. She desired the mind's bird's-eye view a height, a watchtower and a little solitude.
Then she thought that it might be an hour, even more; that Count Anteoni's garden was long since left behind, and that they were passing, perhaps, along the narrow streets of the village of old Beni-Mora, and nearing the edge of the oasis.
At night she visited a dancing house to see the strange dances of the desert. She found Androvsky there, watching the painted women as if half fascinated, half horrified by them. Irena, a girl who had been banished from Beni-Mora for threatening to murder an Arab of whom she was jealous, but had been permitted to return, discovering him among the audience, stabbed him.
To say what you have done is not always to say what you are. And only what you are matters eternally. Presently, still in this perplexity of spirit, she left England with only her maid as companion. After a short tour in the south of Europe, with which she was too familiar, she crossed the sea to Africa, which she had never seen. Her destination was Beni-Mora.
She shut her eyes and imagined a church of her religion the little church of Beni-Mora. She tried to imagine the voice of prayer all about her, the voice of the great Catholic Church. But that was not possible.
And Domini repeated softly: "The great hiding-place." With every moment in Beni-Mora the desert seemed to become more more full of meaning, of variety, of mystery, of terror. Was it everything? The garden of God, the great hiding-place of murderers! She had called it, on the tower, the home of peace.
Just then she felt that if she ventured to weigh and measure her wonderful gift Androvsky would fall dead at her feet and the desert be folded together like a scroll. "There is Beni-Mora, Madame," said Batouch. She was glad he spoke to her, turned and followed with her eyes his pointing hand.
"This afternoon in the desert, when we were in the sand looking at Beni-Mora, you began to tell me something and then you stopped. And you said, 'I can't tell you. There's too much light. Now the sun has gone." "Yes. But but I want to listen to you. I want " She stopped. In the distance, by the great fire where the Arabs were assembled, there rose a sound of music which arrested her attention.
Beni-Mora might have been a place of many and strange tragedies, would be no doubt again, but it offered at this moment little to satisfy her mood.
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