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Updated: May 17, 2025
Then I came here to keep the inn for the diligence that carries the mails to the south, for I wouldn't leave the country till " He paused. "And the sand-diviner?" "I left him at Beni-Mora. He smiled, and said he knew no more than I; and perhaps he didn't. How was I to tell?" "But your name of Fin Tireur?"
The sand-diviner of the red bazaar, slipping like a reptile under the waving arms and between the furious bodies of the beggars, stood up before her with a smile on his wounded face, stretched out to her his emaciated hands with a fawning, yet half satirical, gesture of desire. The money dropped from Domini's fingers and rolled upon the sand at the Diviner's feet.
And with Count Anteoni and the priest she set another figure, that of the sand-diviner, whose tortured face had suggested a man looking on a fate that was terrible. Had not he, too, warned her? Had not the warning been threefold, been given to her by the world, the Church, and the under-world the world beneath the veil? She met Androvsky's eyes. He was getting up to leave the room.
He fell suddenly into a moody silence. I broke it by saying: "It was the sand-diviner?" He looked at me sharply. "I don't know." "You never found out?" "At Beni-Mora the women go veiled," he said harshly.
As she went away down the road he was holding it in his hand, looking after her. "He does not like the Count," she thought. At the corner she turned into the street where the sand-diviner had his bazaar, and as she neared his door she was aware of a certain trepidation. She did not want to see those piercing eyes looking at her in the semi-darkness, and she hurried her steps.
No instinct, no woman's instinct, had stayed her from unwitting sin. The sand-diviner had been wiser than she; Count Anteoni more far-seeing; the priest of Beni-Mora more guided by holiness, by the inner flame that flickers before the wind that blows out of the caverns of evil.
At this lunch Androvsky had been brusque, on the defensive, almost actively disagreeable. And when, after the priest's departure, he left Domini alone with Count Anteoni, she felt almost relieved. Count Anteoni summoned a sand-diviner to read Domini's fate in the sand.
"I think, Madame, it would be better to take a side street," he said. "Very well. Let us go to the left here. It is bound to bring us to the hotel as it runs parallel to the house of the sand diviner." He started. "The sand-diviner?" he said in his low, strong voice. "Yes." She walked on into a tiny alley. He followed her. "You haven't seen the thin man with the bag of sand?" "No, Madame."
At last Count Anteoni spoke again. "It was written," he said quietly. "It was written in the sand." She thought of the sand-diviner and was silent. An oppression of spirit had suddenly come upon her. It seemed to her connected with something physical, something obscure, unusual, such as she had never felt before.
Then, when he has used his power, and thou hast pressed the amulet on thy brows, thou mayst read the destiny of men and women written between their eyes, as a sand-diviner reads fate in the sands. Thou wilt become in thine own right a marabouta, and be sure of Heaven when thou diest.
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