the garden of allah-第56章

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backed　with　sand　tortoise　and　faced　with　stretched　goatskin。　Behind
them　swung　an　oil　lamp　fastened　to　a　beam　of　palm；　and　the　red　ashes
glowed　in　the　coffee　niche　and　shed　a　ray　upon　the　shelf　of　small
white　cups　with　faint　designs　of　gold。　In　a　corner；　his　black　face　and
arms　faintly　relieved　against　the　wall；　an　old　negro　crouched；　gazing
into　vacancy　with　bulging　eyes；　and　beating　with　a　curved　palm　stem
upon　an　oval　drum；　whose　murmur　was　deep　and　hollow　as　the　murmur　of
the　wind；　and　seemed　indeed　its　echo　prisoned　within　the　room　and
striving　to　escape。

〃There　is　sand　on　my　eyelids；〃　said　Batouch。　〃It　is　bad　for　to…morrow。
When　Allah　sends　the　sands　we　should　cover　the　face　and　play　the
ladies'　game　within　the　cafe；　we　should　not　travel　on　the　road　towards
the　south。〃

Ali　said　nothing；　but　drew　up　his　haik　over　his　mouth　and　nose；　and
looked　into　the　night；　folding　his　thin　hands　in　his　burnous。

〃Achmed　will　sleep　in　the　Bordj　of　Arba；〃　continued　Batouch　in　a　low；
murmuring　voice；　as　if　speaking　to　himself。　〃And　the　beasts　will　be　in
the　court。　Nothing　can　remain　outside；　for　there　will　be　a　greater
roaring　of　the　wind　at　Arba。　Can　it　be　the　will　of　Allah　that　we　rest
in　the　tents　to…morrow？〃

Ali　made　no　answer。　The　wind　had　suddenly　died　down。

The　sand　grains　came　no　more　against　their　eyelids　and　the　folds　of
their　haiks。　Behind　them　the　negro's　drum　gave　out　monotonously　its
echo　of　the　wind；　filling　the　silence　of　the　night。

〃Whatever　Allah　sends；〃　Batouch　went　on　softly　after　a　pause；　〃Madame
will　go。　She　is　brave　as　the　lion。　There　is　no　jackal　in　Madame。　Irena
is　not　more　brave　than　she　is。　But　Madame　will　never　wear　the　veil　for
a　man's　sake。　She　will　not　wear　the　veil；　but　she　could　give　a　knife…
thrust　if　he　were　to　look　at　another　woman　as　he　has　looked　at　her；　as
he　will　look　at　her　to…morrow。　She　is　proud　as　a　Touareg　and　there　is
fierceness　in　her。　But　he　will　never　look　at　another　woman　as　he　will
look　at　her　to…morrow。　The　Roumi　is　not　as　we　are。〃

The　wind　came　back　to　join　its　sound　with　the　drum；　imprisoning　the
two　Arabs　in　a　muttering　circle。

〃They　will　not　care；〃　said　Batouch。　〃They　will　go　out　into　the　storm
without　fear。〃

The　sand　pattered　more　sharply　on　his　eyelids。　He　drew　back　into　the
cafe。　Ali　followed　him；　and　they　squatted　down　side　by　side　upon　the
ground　and　looked　before　them　seriously。　The　noise　of　the　wind
increased　till　it　nearly　drowned　the　noise　of　the　negro's　drum。
Presently　the　one…eyed　owner　of　the　cafe　brought　them　two　cups　of
coffee；　setting　the　cups　near　their　stockinged　feet。　They　rolled　two
cigarettes　and　smoked　in　silence；　sipping　the　coffee　from　time　to
time。　Then　Ali　began　to　glance　towards　the　negro。　Half　shutting　his
eyes；　and　assuming　a　languid　expression　that　was　almost　sickly；　he
stretched　his　lips　in　a　smile；　gently　moving　his　head　from　side　to
side。　Batouch　watched　him。　Presently　he　opened　his　lips　and　began　to
sing：

　〃The　love　of　women　is　like　a　date　that　is　golden　in　the　sun；
　　　　That　is　golden
　　The　love　of　women　is　like　a　gazelle　that　comes　to　drink
　　　　To　drink　at　the　water　springs
　　The　love　of　women　is　like　the　nargileh；　and　like　the　dust　of　the　keef
　　　　That　is　mingled　with　tobacco　and　with　honey。
　　Put　the　reed　between　thy　lips；　O　loving　man！
　　And　draw　dreams　from　the　haschish　that　is　the　love　of　women！
　　　　　　　　Janat！　Janat！　Janat！〃

The　wind　grew　louder　and　sand　was　blown　along　the　cafe　floor　and　about
the　coffee…cups。

　〃The　love　of　women　is　like　the　rose　of　the　Caid's　garden
　　　　That　is　full　of　silver　tears
　　The　love　of　women　is　like　the　first　day　of　the　spring
　　　　When　the　children　play　at　Cora
　　The　love　of　women　is　like　the　Derbouka　that　has　been　warmed　at　the　fire
　　　　And　gives　out　a　sweet　sound。
　　Take　it　in　thy　hands；　O　loving　man！
　　And　sing　to　the　Derbouka　that　is　the　love　of　women。
　　　　　　　　Janat！　Janat！　Janat！〃

In　the　doorway；　where　the　lamp　swung　from　the　beam；　a　man　in　European
dress　stood　still　to　listen。　The　wind　wailed　behind　him　and　stirred
his　clothes。　His　eyes　shone　in　the　faint　light　with　a　fierceness　of
emotion　in　which　there　was　a　joy　that　was　almost　terrible；　but　in
which　there　seemed　also　to　be　something　that　was　troubled。　When　the
song　died　away；　and　only　the　voices　of　the　wind　and　the　drum　spoke　to
the　darkness；　he　disappeared　into　the　night。　The　Arabs　did　not　see
him。

　　　　　　　〃Janat！　Janat！　Janat！〃

The　night　drew　on　and　the　storm　increased。　All　the　doors　of　the　houses
were　closely　shut。　Upon　the　roofs　the　guard　dogs　crouched；　shivering
and　whining；　against　the　earthen　parapets。　The　camels　groaned　in　the
fondouks；　and　the　tufted　heads　of　the　palms　swayed　like　the　waves　of
the　sea。　And　the　Sahara　seemed　to　be　lifting　up　its　voice　in　a　summons
that　was　tremendous　as　a　summons　to　Judgment。

Domini　had　always　known　that　the　desert　would　summon　her。　She　heard
its　summons　now　in　the　night　without　fear。　The　roaring　of　the　tempest
was　sweet　in　her　ears　as　the　sound　of　the　Derbouka　to　the　loving　man
of　the　sands。　It　accorded　with　the　fire　that　lit　up　the　cloud　of
passion　in　her　heart。　Its　wildness　marched　in　step　with　a　marching
wildness　in　her　veins　and　pulses。　For　her　gipsy　blood　was　astir
to…night；　and　the　recklessness　of　the　boy　in　her　seemed　to　clamour
with　the　storm。　The　sound　of　the　wind　was　as　the　sound　of　the　clashing
cymbals　of　Liberty；　calling　her　to　the　adventure　that　love　would
glorify；　to　the　far…away　life　that　love　would　make　perfect；　to　the
untrodden　paths　of　the　sun　of　which　she　had　dreamed　in　the　shadows；
and　on　which　she　would　set　her　feet　at　last　with　the　comrade　of　her
soul。

To…morrow　her　life　would　begin；　her　real　life；　the　life　of　which　men
and　women　dream　as　the　prisoner　dreams　of　freedom。　And　she　was　glad；
she　thanked　God；　that　her　past　years　had　been　empty　of　joy；　that　in
her　youth　she　had　been　robbed　of　youth's　pleasures。　She　thanked　God
that　she　had　come　to　maturity　without　knowing　love。　It　seemed　to　her
that　to　love　in　early　life　was　almost　pitiful；　was　a　catastrophe；　an
experience　for　which　the　soul　was　not　ready；　and　so　could　not
appreciate　at　its　full　and　wonderful　value。　She　thought　of　it　as　of　a
child　being　taken　away　from　the　world　to　Paradise　without　having　known
the　pain　of　existence　in　the　world；　and　at　that　moment　she　worshipped
suffering。　Every　tear　that　she　had　ever　shed　she　loved；　every　weary
hour；　every　despondent　thought；　every　cruel　disappointment。　She　called
around　her　the　congregation　of　her　past　sorrows；　and　she　blessed　them
and　bade　them　depart　from　her　for　ever。

As　she　heard　the　roaring　of　the　wind　she　smiled。　The　Sahara　was
fulfilling　the　words　of　the　Diviner。　To…morrow　she　and　Androvsky　would
go　out　into　the　storm　and　the　darkness　together。　The　train　of　camels
would　be　lost　in　the　desolation　of　the　desert。　And　the　people　of　Beni…
Mora　would　see　it　vanish；　and；　perhaps；　would　pity　those　who　were
hidden　by　the　curtains　of　the　palanquin。　They　would　pity　her　as
Suzanne　pitied　her；　openly；　with　eyes　that　were　tragic。　She　laughed
aloud。

It　was　late　in　the　night。　Midnight　had　sounded　yet　she　did　not　go　to
bed。　She　feared　to　sleep；　to　lose　the　consciousness　of　her　joy　of　the
glory　which　had　come　into　her　life。　She　was　a　miser　of　the　golden
hours　of　this　black　and　howling　night。　To　sleep　would　be　to　be　robbed。
A　splendid　avarice　in　her　rebelled　against　the　thought　of　sleep。

Was　Androvsky　sleeping？　She　wondered　and　longed　to　know。

To…night　she　was　fully　aware　for　the　first　time　of　the　inherent
fearlessness　of　her　character；　which　was　made　perfect　at　last　by　her
perfect　love。　Alone；　she　had　always　had　courage。　Even　in　her　most
listless　hours　she　had　never　been　a　craven。　But　now　she　felt　the
completeness　of　a　nature　clothed　in　armour　that　rendered　it
impregnable。　It　was　a　strange　thing　that　man　should　have　the　power　to
put　the　finishing　touch　to　God's　work；　that　religion　should　stoop　to
be　a　handmaid　to　faith　in　a　human　being；　but　she　did　not　think　it
strange。　Everything　in　life　seemed　to　her　to　be　in　perfect　accord
because　her　heart　was　in　perfect　accord　with　another　heart。

And　she　welcomed　the　storm。　She　even　welcomed　something　else　that　came
to　her　now　in　the　storm：　the　memory　of　the　sand…diviner's　tortured
face　as　he　gazed　down；　reading　her　fate　in　the　sand。　For　what　was　an
untroubled　fate？　Surely　a　life　that　crept　along　the　hollows　and　had　no
impulse　to　call　it　to　the　heights。　Knowing　the　flawless　perfection　of
her　armour　she　had　a　wild　longing　to　prove　it。　She　wished　that　there
should　be　assaults　upon　her　love；　because　she　knew　she　could　resist
them　one　and　all；　and　she　wished　to　have　the　keen　joy　of　resisting
them。　There　is　a　health　of　body　so　keen　and　vital　that　it　desires
combat。　The　soul　sometimes　knows　a　precisely　similar　health　and　is
filled　with　a　similar　desire。

〃Put　my　love　to　the　proof；　O　God！〃　was　Domini's　last　prayer　that　night
when　the　storm　was　at　its　wildest。　〃Put　my　love　to　the　uttermost　proof
that　he　may　know　it；　as　he　can　never　know　it　otherwise。〃

And　she　fell　asleep　at　length；　peacefully；　in　the　tumult　of　the　night；
feeling　that　God　had　heard　her　prayer。

The　dawn　came　struggling　like　an　exhausted　pilgrim　through　the　windy
dark；　pale　and　faint；　with　no　courage；　it　seemed；　to　grow　bravely　into
day。　As　if　with　the　sedulous　effort　of　something　weary　but　of
unconquered　will；　it　slowly　lit　up　Beni…Mora　with　a　feeble　light　that
flickered　in　a　cloud　of　whirling　sand；　revealing　the　desolation　of　an
almost　featureless　void。　The　village；　the　whole　oasis；　was　penetrated
by　a　passionate　fog　that　instead　of　brooding　heavily；　phlegmatically；
over　the　face　of　life　and　nature　travelled　like　a　demented　thing　bent
upon　instant　destruction；　and　coming　thus　cloudily　to　be　more　free　for
crime。　It　was　an　emissary　of　the　desert；　propelled　with　irresistible
force　from　the　farthest　recess　of　the　dunes；　and　the　desert　itself
seemed　to　be　hurrying　behind　it　as　if　to　spy　upon　the　doing　of　its
deeds。

As　the　sea　in　a　great　storm　rages　against　the　land；　ferocious　that
land　should　be；　so　the　desert　now　raged　against　the　oasis　that
ventured　to　exist　in　its　bosom。　Every　palm　tree　was　the　victim　of　its
wrath；　every　running　rill；　every　habitation　of　man。　Along　the　tunnels
of　mimosa　it　went　like　a　foaming　tide　through　a　cavern；　roaring
towards　the　mountains。　It　returned　and　swept　about　the　narrow　streets；
eddying　at　the　corners；　beating　upon　the　palmwood　doors；　behind　which
the　painted　dancing…girls　were　cowering；　cold　under　their　pigments　and
their　heavy　jewels；　their　red　hands　trembling　and　clasping　one
another；　clamouring　about　the　minarets　of　the　mosques　on　which　the
frightened　doves　were　sheltering；　shaking　the　fences　that　shut　in　the
gazelles　in　their　pleasaunce；　tearing　at　the　great　statue　of　the
Cardinal　that　faced　it　resolutely；　holding　up　the　double　cross　as　if
to　exorcise　it；　battering　upon　the　tall；　white　tower　on　whose　summit
Domini　had　first　spoken　with　Androvsky；　raging　through　the　alleys　of
Count　Anteoni's　garden；　the　arcades　of　his　villa；　the　window…spaces　of
the　/fumoir/；　from　whose　walls　it　tore　down　frantically　the　purple
petals　of　the　bougainvillea　and　dashed　them；　like　enemies　defeat