“Hear it!” he said, muttering against her lips.  “Hear it!  I love you!  I love you!”

In the recesses of the garden Larbi, that idle gardener, played upon his little flute his eternal song of love, and from the desert, beyond the white wall, there rose an Arab’s voice singing a song of the Sahara, “No one but God and I knows what is in my heart!”

IV.—­A Nomad’s Honeymoon

As the sand-diviner had foretold, Domini and Androvsky were married in the church of Beni-Mora, and by the priest who had warned Domini to have nothing more to do with Androvsky.  A terrible sand-storm was raging, and the desert was blotted out.  Nevertheless, when the ceremony was over, the bride and bridegroom mounted upon a camel, and with their attendants, set out for their desert honeymoon.  Standing before the door of the church, the good priest watched them go, with fear in his heart, and that night in his humble home, kneeling before his crucifix, he prayed long and earnestly for all wanderers in the desert.

Isolated from all who knew them, free from all social ties, nomads, as are the Bedouins who make their dwelling for ever amid the vast and burning sands, Domini and Androvsky entered upon their married life.  And at first one of them was happy as few are ever happy.  Domini loved completely, trusted completely, lived with a fulness, a completeness she had never known till now.  That Androvsky almost worshipped her, she knew.  His conduct to her was perfect.  And yet there were times when Domini felt as if a shadow rose between them, as if, even with her, in some secret place of his soul Androvsky was ill at ease, as if sometimes he suffered, and dared not tell his suffering.

One day, in their wanderings, they came to a desolate place called Mogar, and camped on a sandhill looking over a vast stretch of dunes.  Towards evening Androvsky descended into the plain to shoot gazelle, leaving Domini alone.  While he was away a French officer, with two men of the Zouaves, rode slowly up.  They were nearly starving and terribly exhausted, having been lost in a sand-storm for three days and nights.

Pitying their sufferings, Domini insisted on entertaining them.  The men must sup with the Arabs, the officer must dine with herself and Androvsky.  The officer accepted with gratitude, and went off to make his toilet.  When Androvsky returned, Domini told him of the officer’s arrival, and when he saw the three places laid for dinner in the tent, he seemed profoundly disturbed.  He asked the officer’s name.  Domini told him Trevignac.

“Trevignac!” he exclaimed.

Then, hearing the soldiers coming, he turned away; abruptly and disappeared into the bedroom tent.

Trevignac came up, and in a few minutes Androvsky reappeared.  The two men gazed at each other for an instant.  Then Domini introduced them, and they all sat down to dinner.  Conversation was uneasy.  Androvsky was evidently ill at ease; Trevignac was distrait at moments, strangely watchful of his host at other moments.  Dinner over, Domini left the two men together to smoke, and went out on to the sand.  She met an Arab carrying coffee and a liqueur to the tent.