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Updated: May 12, 2025
"In this case, Madame, you were the lonely watcher, and I was the something terrible that came." She laughed. While she laughed De Trevignac noticed that Androvsky looked at her with a sort of sad intentness, not reproachful or wondering, as an older person might look at a child playing at the edge of some great gulf into which a false step would precipitate it.
When they were quite near De Trevignac, who was riding, with his head bent down on his chest, muffled in a heavy cloak, looked up and saw her. She nodded to him. He sat up and saluted. For a moment she thought that he was going on without stopping to speak to her. She saw that he hesitated what to do. Then he pulled up his mule and prepared to get off. "No, don't, Monsieur," she said.
Ouardi's words made her wonder whether this liqueur, brought to celebrate De Trevignac's presence in the camp, had turned the conversation upon the subject of the religious orders; whether Androvsky had perhaps said something against them which had offended De Trevignac, a staunch Catholic; whether there had been a quarrel between the two men on the subject of religion. It was possible.
For the first time since they had been together his voice was absolutely natural, his manner was absolutely unconstrained, he showed himself as he was, a man on fire with love for the woman who had given herself to him, and who received a warm word of praise of her as a gift made to himself. De Trevignac no longer wondered that Domini was his wife.
She felt governed, and as if she must yield to his will, but she also felt confused, even almost alarmed mentally. The sleeping-tent was dark. When they reached it Androvsky took his arm from her, and she heard him searching for the matches. She was in the tent door and could see that there was a light in the tower. De Trevignac must be there already.
On the floor near him lay a quantity of fragments of glass. "Boris!" she said. "Where is Monsieur de Trevignac?" "Gone," replied Androvsky in a loud, firm voice. She looked up at him. His face was grim and powerful, hard like the face of a fighting man. "Gone already? Why?" "He's tired out. He told me to make his excuses to you." "But " She saw in the table the coffee cups.
She remembered his saying to her that it must have been built for French soldiers. As they rode into Mogar he had dreaded something in Mogar. The strange incident with De Trevignac had followed. She had put it from her mind as a matter of small, or no, importance, had resolutely forgotten it, had been able to forget it in their dream of desert life and desert passion.
"I should like to stay in the desert for ever," Domini said quickly, with a long look at her husband. "I should not, Madame," De Trevignac said. "I understand. The desert has shown you its terrors." "Indeed it has." "But to us it has only shown its enchantment. Hasn't it?" She spoke to Androvsky. After a pause he replied: "Yes." The word, when it came, sounded like a lie.
She resolved to use her will upon this man who loved her, to force him to show his best side to the guest who had come to them out of the terror of the dunes. She would be obstinate for him. Her lips went down a little at the corners. De Trevignac glanced at her above his soup-plate, and then at Androvsky.
"It suggests lonely people watching." "For something that never comes, or something terrible that comes," De Trevignac said. As he spoke the last words Androvsky moved uneasily in his chair, and looked out towards the camp, as if he longed to get up and go into the open air, as if the tent roof above his head oppressed him. Trevignac turned to Domini.
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