Domini scarcely looked at them.  Till now she had always thought that she loved mountains.  The desert suddenly made them insignificant, almost mean to her.  She turned her eyes towards the flat spaces.  It was in them that majesty lay, mystery, power, and all deep and significant things.  In the midst of the river bed, and quite near, rose a round and squat white tower with a small cupola.  Beyond it, on the little cliff, was a tangle of palms where a tiny oasis sheltered a few native huts.  At an immense distance, here and there, other oases showed as dark stains show on the sea where there are hidden rocks.  And still farther away, on all hands, the desert seemed to curve up slightly like a shallow wine-hued cup to the misty blue horizon line, which resembled a faintly seen and mysterious tropical sea, so distant that its sultry murmur was lost in the embrace of the intervening silence.

An Arab passed on the path below the wall.  He did not see them.  A white dog with curling lips ran beside him.  He was singing to himself in a low, inward voice.  He went on and turned towards the oasis, still singing as he walked slowly.

“Do you know what he is singing?” the Count asked.

Domini shook her head.  She was straining her ears to hear the melody as long as possible.

“It is a desert song of the freed negroes of Touggourt—­’No one but God and I knows what is in my heart.’”

Domini lowered her parasol to conceal her face.  In the distance she could still hear the song, but it was dying away.

“Oh! what is going to happen to me here?” she thought.

Count Anteoni was looking away from her now across the desert.  A strange impulse rose up in her.  She could not resist it.  She put down her parasol, exposing herself to the blinding sunlight, knelt down on the hot sand, leaned her arms on the white parapet, put her chin in the upturned palms of her hands and stared into the desert almost fiercely.

“No one but God and I knows what is in my heart,” she thought.  “But that’s not true, that’s not true.  For I don’t know.”

The last echo of the Arab’s song fainted on the blazing air.  Surely it had changed now.  Surely, as he turned into the shadows of the palms, he was singing, “No one but God knows what is in my heart.”  Yes, he was singing that.  “No one but God—­no one but God.”

Count Anteoni looked down at her.  She did not notice it, and he kept his eyes on her for a moment.  Then he turned to the desert again.

By degrees, as she watched, Domini became aware of many things indicative of life, and of many lives in the tremendous expanse that at first had seemed empty of all save sun and mystery.  She saw low, scattered tents, far-off columns of smoke rising.  She saw a bird pass across the blue and vanish towards the mountains.  Black shapes appeared among the tiny mounds of earth, crowned with dusty grass and dwarf tamarisk bushes.  She saw them move, like objects in a dream, slowly through the shimmering gold.  They were feeding camels, guarded by nomads whom she could not see.