Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 19, 2025
The smoke rose up in a cloud round Smaïn and his flute, and now I thought that, indeed, there was a wild pathos in the music. The moon went up the sky, and threw silver on the palms. The gay cries from the village died down. The gardeners lay upon the earth divans under the palmwood roofs, and slept. And at last Smaïn bade us good-bye.
And she wondered for an instant whether he had come to Beni-Mora, as she had come, vaguely seeking for a happiness scarcely embodied in a definite thought. "There is a gentleman coming, Madame." It was the soft voice of Smain from the gate. In a moment Androvsky stood before it. Domini saw him framed in the white wood, with a brilliant blue behind him and a narrow glimpse of the watercourse.
He goes up and down like a sailor on the quarter-deck." "Yes, it is curious. And he is in the full blaze of the sun. That can't be an Arab." He drew a silver whistle from his waistcoat pocket, put it to his lips and sounded a call. In a moment Smain same running lightly over the sand. Count Anteoni said something to him in Arabic. He disappeared, and speedily returned with a pair of field-glasses.
A brown butterfly flitted forward between them and vanished into the golden dream beyond. "Oh, Smain, how you must love this garden!" she said. A sort of ecstasy was waking within her. The pure air, the caressing warmth, the enchanted stillness and privacy of this domain touched her soul and body like the hands of a saint with power to bless her.
Immense fig trees and palms and thickets of bamboo towered around it and leaned above it. And it was circled by a narrow riband of finely-raked sand. "That is the smoking-room of Monsieur the Count," said Smain. "He spends many hours there. Come and I will show the inside to Madame." They turned to the left and went towards the room. The flute was close to them now.
The Diviner stepped stealthily on to the sand with an air of subtle triumph, and Smain swung forward the great leaf of palm wood. "Wait!" the Count cried, as if suddenly recollecting something. "Where is Monsieur Androvsky?" "Isn't he ?" Domini glanced round. "I don't know." He went quickly to the door and looked out. The Arabs, silent now and respectful, crowded about him, salaaming.
He held it almost as a father or a guardian might have held it. "And this garden is yours day and night Smain knows." "Thank you," she said again. The shrill whinnying of a horse came to them from a distance. Their hands fell apart. Count Anteoni looked round him slowly at the great cocoanut tree, at the shaggy grass of the lawn, at the tall bamboos and the drooping mulberry trees.
They look diseased with intelligence." "Let me send him away. Smain!" But she stopped him. Directly he made the suggestion she felt that she must know more of this man. "No. Let us go to the fumoir." "Very well. Go, Smain!" Smain went into the little tent by the gate, sat down on his haunches and began to smell at a sprig of orange blossoms.
But now, as she walked secretly over the yellow sand between the rills, following the floating green robe of Smain, she rested her eyes, and her soul, on countless mingling shades of the delicious colour; rough, furry green of geranium leaves, silver green of olives, black green of distant palms from which the sun held aloof, faded green of the eucalyptus, rich, emerald green of fan-shaped, sunlit palms, hot, sultry green of bamboos, dull, drowsy green of mulberry trees and brooding chestnuts.
He would not go in there. It must be " He paused. A tall, middle-aged man had come to the doorway of the little room and looked out into the garden with bright eyes. Domini drew back and glanced at Smain. She was not accustomed to feeling intrusive, and the sudden sensation rendered her uneasy. "It is Monsieur the Count," Smain said calmly and quite aloud.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking