the garden of allah-第33章

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aside。　The　tameness；　the　half…heartedness　of　Western　prayer　and
Western　praise　had　no　place　here。　This　prayer　was　hot　as　the　sunlight；
this　praise　was　a　mounting　fire。　The　breath　of　this　human　incense　was
as　the　breath　of　a　furnace　pouring　forth　to　the　gates　of　the　Paradise
of　Allah。　It　gave　to　Domini　a　quite　new　conception　of　religion；　of　the
relation　between　Creator　and　created。　The　personal　pride　which；　like
blood　in　a　body；　runs　through　all　the　veins　of　the　mind　of
Mohammedanism；　that　measureless　hauteur　which　sets　the　soul　of　a
Sultan　in　the　twisted　frame　of　a　beggar　at　a　street　corner；　and　makes
impressive；　even　almost　majestical；　the　filthy　marabout；　quivering
with　palsy　and　devoured　by　disease；　who　squats　beneath　a　holy　bush
thick　with　the　discoloured　rags　of　the　faithful；　was　not　abased　at　the
shrine　of　the　warrior；　Zerzour；　was　not　cast　off　in　the　act　of
adoration。　These　Arabs　humbled　themselves　in　the　body。　Their　foreheads
touched　the　stones。　By　their　attitudes　they　seemed　as　if　they　wished
to　make　themselves　even　with　the　ground；　to　shrink　into　the　space
occupied　by　a　grain　of　sand。　Yet　they　were　proud　in　the　presence　of
Allah；　as　if　the　firmness　of　their　belief　in　him　and　his　right
dealing；　the　fury　of　their　contempt　and　hatred　for　those　who　looked
not　towards　Mecca　nor　regarded　Ramadan；　gave　them　a　patent　of
nobility。　Despite　their　genuflections　they　were　all　as　men　who　knew；
and　never　forgot；　that　on　them　was　conferred　the　right　to　keep　on
their　head…covering　in　the　presence　of　their　King。　With　their　closed
eyes　they　looked　God　full　in　the　face。　Their　dull　and　growling　murmur
had　the　majesty　of　thunder　rolling　through　the　sky。

Mustapha　had　disappeared　within　the　mosque；　leaving　Domini　and
Androvsky　for　the　moment　alone　in　the　midst　of　the　worshippers。　From
the　shadowy　interior　came　forth　a　ceaseless　sound　of　prayer　to　join
the　prayer　without。　There　was　a　narrow　stone　seat　by　the　mosque　door
and　she　sat　down　upon　it。　She　felt　suddenly　weary；　as　one　being
hypnotised　feels　weary　when　the　body　and　spirit　begin　to　yield　to　the
spell　of　the　operator。　Androvsky　remained　standing。　His　eyes　were
fixed　on　the　ground；　and　she　thought　his　face　looked　almost　phantom…
like；　as　if　the　blood　had　sunk　away　from　it；　leaving　it　white　beneath
the　brown　tint　set　there　by　the　sun。　He　stayed　quite　still。　The　dark
shadow　cast　by　the　towering　mosque　fell　upon　him；　and　his　immobile
figure　suggested　to　her　ranges　of　infinite　melancholy。　She　sighed　as
one　oppressed。　There　was　an　old　man　praying　near　them　at　the　threshold
of　the　door；　with　his　face　turned　towards　the　interior。　He　was　very
thin；　almost　a　skeleton；　was　dressed　in　rags　through　which　his　copper…
coloured　body；　sharp　with　scarce…covered　bones；　could　be　seen；　and　had
a　scanty　white　beard　sticking　up；　like　a　brush；　at　the　tip　of　his
pointed　chin。　His　face；　worn　with　hardship　and　turned　to　the　likeness
of　parchment　by　time　and　the　action　of　the　sun；　was　full　of　senile
venom；　and　his　toothless　mouth；　with　its　lips　folded　inwards；　moved
perpetually；　as　if　he　were　trying　to　bite。　With　rhythmical　regularity；
like　one　obeying　a　conductor；　he　shot　forth　his　arms　towards　the
mosque　as　if　he　wished　to　strike　it；　withdrew　them；　paused；　then　shot
them　forth　again。　And　as　his　arms　shot　forth　he　uttered　a　prolonged
and　trembling　shriek；　full　of　weak；　yet　intense；　fury。

He　was　surely　crying　out　upon　God；　denouncing　God　for　the　evils　that
had　beset　his　nearly　ended　life。　Poor；　horrible　old　man！　Androvsky　was
closer　to　him　than　she　was；　but　did　not　seem　to　notice　him。　Once　she
had　seen　him　she　could　not　take　her　eyes　from　him。　His　perpetual
gesture；　his　perpetual　shriek；　became　abominable　to　her　in　the　midst
of　the　bowing　bodies　and　the　humming　voices　of　prayer。　Each　time　he
struck　at　the　mosque　and　uttered　his　piercing　cry　she　seemed　to　hear
an　oath　spoken　in　a　sanctuary。　She　longed　to　stop　him。　This　one
blasphemer　began　to　destroy　for　her　the　mystic　atmosphere　created　by
the　multitudes　of　adorers；　and　at　last　she　could　no　longer　endure　his
reiterated　enmity。

She　touched　Androvsky's　arm。　He　started　and　looked　at　her。

〃That　old　man；〃　she　whispered。　〃Can't　you　speak　to　him？〃

Androvsky　glanced　at　him　for　the　first　time。

〃Speak　to　him；　Madame？　Why？〃

〃Hehe's　horrible！〃

She　felt　a　sudden　disinclination　to　tell　Androvsky　why　the　old　man　was
horrible　to　her。

〃What　do　you　wish　me　to　say　to　him？〃

〃I　thought　perhaps　you　might　be　able　to　stop　him　from　doing　that。〃

Androvsky　bent　down　and　spoke　to　the　old　man　in　Arabic。

He　shot　out　his　arms　and　reiterated　his　trembling　shriek。　It　pierced
the　sound　of　prayer　as　lightning　pierces　cloud。

Domini　got　up　quickly。

〃I　can't　bear　it；〃　she　said；　still　in　a　whisper。　〃It's　as　if　he　were
cursing　God。〃

Androvsky　looked　at　the　old　man　again；　this　time　with　profound
attention。

〃Isn't　it？〃　she　said。　〃Isn't　it　as　if　he　were　cursing　God　while　the
whole　world　worshipped？　And　that　one　cry　of　hatred　seems　louder　than
the　praises　of　the　whole　world。〃

〃We　can't　stop　it。〃

Something　in　his　voice　made　her　say　abruptly：

〃Do　you　wish　to　stop　it？〃

He　did　not　answer。　The　old　man　struck　at　the　mosque　and　shrieked。
Domini　shuddered。

〃I　can't　stay　here；〃　she　said。

At　this　moment　Mustapha　appeared；　followed　by　the　guardian　of　the
mosque；　who　carried　two　pairs　of　tattered　slippers。

〃Monsieur　and　Madame　must　take　off　their　boots。　Then　I　will　show　the
mosque。〃

Domini　put　on　the　slippers　hastily；　and　went　into　the　mosque　without
waiting　to　see　whether　Androvsky　was　following。　And　the　old　man's
furious　cry　pursued　her　through　the　doorway。

Within　there　was　space　and　darkness。　The　darkness　seemed　to　be
praying。　Vistas　of　yellowish…white　arches　stretched　away　in　front；　to
right　and　left。　On　the　floor；　covered　with　matting；　quantities　of
shrouded　figures　knelt　and　swayed；　stood　up　suddenly；　knelt　again；
bowed　down　their　foreheads。　Preceded　by　Mustapha　and　the　guide；　who
walked　on　their　stockinged　feet；　Domini　slowly　threaded　her　way　among
them；　following　a　winding　path　whose　borders　were　praying　men。　To
prevent　her　slippers　from　falling　off　she　had　to　shuffle　along　without
lifting　her　feet　from　the　ground。　With　the　regularity　of　a　beating
pulse　the　old　man's　shriek；　fainter　now；　came　to　her　from　without。　But
presently；　as　she　penetrated　farther　into　the　mosque；　it　was　swallowed
up　by　the　sound　of　prayer。　No　one　seemed　to　see　her　or　to　know　that
she　was　there。　She　brushed　against　the　white　garments　of　worshippers；
and　when　she　did　so　she　felt　as　if　she　touched　the　hem　of　the　garments
of　mystery；　and　she　held　her　habit　together　with　her　hands　lest　she
should　recall　even　one　of　these　hearts　that　were　surely　very　far　off。

Mustapha　and　the　guardian　stood　still　and　looked　round　at　Domini。
Their　faces　were　solemn。　The　expression　of　greedy　anxiety　had　gone　out
of　Mustapha's　eyes。　For　the　moment　the　thought　of　money　had　been
driven　out　of　his　mind　by　some　graver　pre…occupation。　She　saw　in　the
semi…darkness　two　wooden　doors　set　between　pillars。　They　were　painted
green　and　red；　and　fastened　with　clamps　and　bolts　of　hammered　copper
that　looked　enormously　old。　Against　them　were　nailed　two　pictures　of
winged　horses　with　human　heads；　and　two　more　pictures　representing　a
fantastical　town　of　Eastern　houses　and　minarets　in　gold　on　a　red
background。　Balls　of　purple　and　yellow　glass；　and　crystal　chandeliers；
hung　from　the　high　ceiling　above　these　doors；　with　many　ancient　lamps；
and　two　tattered　and　dusty　banners　of　pale　pink　and　white　silk；
fringed　with　gold　and　powdered　with　a　gold　pattern　of　flowers；　were
tied　to　the　pillars　with　thin　cords　of　camel's　hair。

〃This　is　the　tomb　of　Sidi…Zerzour；〃　whispered　Mustapha。　〃It　is　opened
once　a　year。〃

The　guardian　of　the　mosque　fell　on　his　knees　before　the　tomb。

〃That　is　Mecca。〃

Mustapha　pointed　to　the　pictures　of　the　city。　Then　he；　too；　dropped
down　and　pressed　his　forehead　against　the　matting。　Domini　glanced
round　for　Androvsky。　He　was　not　there。　She　stood　alone　before　the　tomb
of　Zerzour；　the　only　human　being　in　the　great；　dim　building　who　was
not　worshipping。　And　she　felt　a　terrible　isolation；　as　if　she　were
excommunicated；　as　if　she　dared　not　pray；　for　a　moment　almost　as　if
the　God　to　whom　this　torrent　of　worship　flowed　were　hostile　to　her
alone。

Had　her　father　ever　felt　such　a　sensation　of　unutterable　solitude？

It　passed　quickly；　and；　standing　under　the　votive　lamps　before　the
painted　doors；　she　prayed　too；　silently。　She　shut　her　eyes　and
imagined　a　church　of　her　religionthe　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。　Even　when　she　saw
nothing；　and　turned　her　soul　inward　upon　itself；　and　strove　to　set
this　new　world　into　which　she　had　come　far　off；　she　heard　in　the　long
murmur　that　filled　it　a　sound　that　surely　rose　from　the　sand；　from　the
heart　and　the　spirit　of　the　sand；　from　the　heart　and　the　spirit　of
desert　places；　and　that　went　up　in　the　darkness　of　the　mosque　and
floated　under　the　arches　through　the　doorway；　above　the　palms　and　the
flat…roofed　houses；　and　that　winged　its　fierce　way；　like　a　desert
eagle；　towards　the　sun。

Mustapha's　hand　was　on　her　arm。　The　guardian；　too；　had　risen　from　his
knees　and　drawn　from　his　robe　and　lit　a　candle。　She　came　to　a　tiny
doorway；　passed　through　it　and　began　to　mount　a　winding　stair。　The
sound　of　prayer　mounted　with　her　from　the　mosque；　and　when　she　came
out　upon　the　platform　enclosed　in　the　summit　of　the　minaret　she　heard
it　still　and　it　was　multiplied。　For　all　the　voices　from　the　outside
courts　joined　it；　and　many　voices　from　the　roofs　of　the　houses　round
about。

Men　were　praying　there　too；　praying　in　the　glare　of　the　sun　upon　their
housetops。　She　saw　them　from　the　minaret；　and　she　saw　the　town　that
had　sprung　up　round　the　tomb　of　the　saint；　and　all　the　palms　of　the
oasis；　and　beyond　them　immeasurable　spaces　of　desert。

〃Allah…Akbar！　Allah…Akbar！〃

She　was　above　the　eternal　cry　now。　She　had　mounted　like　a　prayer
towards　the　sun；　like　a　living；　pulsing　prayer；　like　the　soul　of
prayer。　She　gazed　at　the　far…off　desert　and　saw　prayer　travelling；　the
soul　of　prayer　travellingwhither？　Where　was　the　end？　Where　was　the
halting…place；　with　at　last　the　pitched　tent；　the　camp　fires；　and　the
long；　the　long　repose？

*　　　*　　　*　　　*　　　*　　　*

When　she　came　down　and　reached　the　court　she　found　the　old　man　still
striking　at　the　mosque　and　shrieking　out　his　trembling　imprecation。
And　she　found　Androvsky　still　standing　by　him　with　fascinated　eyes。

She　had　mounted　with　the　voice　of　prayer　into　the　sunshine；　surely　a
little　way　towards　God。

Androvsky　had　remained　in　the　dark　shadow　with　a　curse。

It　was　foolish；　perhapsa　woman's　vagrant　fancybut　she　wished　he
had　mounted　with　her。




BOOK　III。　THE　GARDEN



CHAPTER　X

It　was　noon　in　the　desert。

The　voice　of　the　Mueddin　died　away　on　the　minaret；　and　the　golden
silence　that　comes　out　of　the　heart　of　the　sun　sank　down　once　more
softly　over　everything。　Nature　seemed　unnaturally　still　in　the　heat。
The　slight　winds　were　not　at　play；　and　the　palms　of　Beni…Mora　s