Domini became profoundly interested in Androvsky, but her interest was complicated by wonder at his peculiarities, at his uncouth manners, his strange silences, his ignorance of life and of social matters, his distrust of others, his desire to keep aloof from all human beings, except herself.  The good priest, now her intimate friend, Count Anteoni, also her friend and respectful admirer, were ill at ease with him.  He had tried to avoid them, but Domini, anxious to bring some pleasure into his life, had introduced him to them at a luncheon given by the count in his garden, despite Androvsky’s dogged assertion that he disliked priests, and did not care for social intercourse.

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.  This man—­a thin, fanatical Eastern, with piercing and cruel eyes—­spread out his sand brought from the tomb of a Mohammedan saint, and prophesied.  He declared that he saw a great sand-storm, and in it a train of camels waiting by a church.  From the church came the sound of music, nearly drowned by the roar of the wind.  In the church the real life of Domini was beginning.  The music ceased; darkness fell.  Then the diviner saw Domini, with a companion, mounted on one of the camels, and disappearing into the storm towards the south.  The face of her companion was hidden.  Finally he saw Domini far out in the desert among great dunes of white sand.  In her heart there was joy.  It was as if all the date palms bore their fruit together, and in all the desert places water-springs burst forth.  But presently a figure came towards her, walking heavily; and all the dates shrivelled upon the palms, and all the springs dried up.  Sorrow and terror were there beside her.

At this point in the diviner’s prophecy Domini stopped him.  Afterwards she explained to Anteoni that she felt as if another’s fate was being read in it as well as her own, as if to listen any more might be to intrude upon another’s secret.

Upon the following day Anteoni left Beni-Mora to make a long desert journey to a sacred city called Amara.  Domini went to his garden at dawn to see him off.  Before departing he warned Domini to beware of Androvsky.  She asked him why.  He answered that Androvsky seemed to him a man who was at odds with life, with himself, with his Creator, a man who was defying Allah in Allah’s garden.  When Anteoni had gone, Domini, in some perplexity of spirit, and moved by a longing for sympathy and help, visited the priest in his house near the church.  The priest, indirectly, also warned her against Androvsky, and a little later frankly, told her that he felt an invincible dislike to him.

“I have no reason to give,” said the priest.  “My instinct is my reason.  I feel it my duty to say that I advise you most earnestly to break off your acquaintance with Monsieur Androvsky.”