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Updated: May 27, 2025
He was about to sit beside her, but she said quickly: "Would you mind going back to the jamelon tree?" "Where we sat this morning?" "Was it only yes." "Certainly." "Oh; but you are going away to-morrow! You have a lot to do probably?" "Nothing. My men will arrange everything."
As she kept beside him she felt as if in that moment their acquaintanceship had sprung forward, like a thing that had been forcibly restrained and that was now sharply released. They did not speak again till they saw, at the end of an alley, the Count and the priest standing together beneath the jamelon tree.
Domini sat on a low chair in the shadow cast by a great jamelon tree. At her feet was a bush of vivid scarlet geraniums, against which her white linen dress looked curiously blanched.
Only one other song he loves more than the twittering tune of Larbi. Sometimes, when twilight is falling over the Sahara, his mother calls him to her, to the white wall where she is sitting beneath a jamelon tree. "Listen, Boris!" she whispers. The little boy climbs up on her knee, leans his face against her breast and obeys.
To what tremendous demonstration was this crescendo tending, to what ultimate glory or terror? She felt that her soul was as yet too undeveloped to conceive. The Diviner had been right. There was a veil around it, like the veil of the womb that hides the unborn child. Under the jamelon tree she sat down once more. "May I light a cigar?" the Count asked. "Do."
There came a little ragged firing; but a round of blanks stopped that, and sent the villagers skurrying back into the shelter of the palms, mimosas, and jamelon trees. Nissr poised at seven hundred and fifty feet and let down tanks, nacelle, and men. There was no resistance. The local naib came with trembling, to make salaam.
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