“No doubt had it been otherwise he would have jeered, not cowered.  But why do you ask me this question, Madame?”

“I have just seen a man flee from the sight of prayer.”

“Your fellow-traveller?”

“Yes.  It was horrible.”

She gave him back the glasses.

“They reveal that which should be hidden,” she said.

Count Anteoni took the glasses slowly from her hands.  As he bent to do it he looked steadily at her, and she could not read the expression in his eyes.

“The desert is full of truth.  Is that what you mean?” he asked.

She made no reply.  Count Anteoni stretched out his hand to the shining expanse before them.

“The man who is afraid of prayer is unwise to set foot beyond the palm trees,” he said.

“Why unwise?”

He answered her very gravely.

“The Arabs have a saying:  ‘The desert is the garden of Allah.’”

* * * * *

Domini did not ascend the tower of the hotel that morning.  She had seen enough for the moment, and did not wish to disturb her impressions by adding to them.  So she walked back to the Hotel du Desert with Batouch.

Count Anteoni had said good-bye to her at the door of the garden, and had begged her to come again whenever she liked, and to spend as many hours there as she pleased.

“I shall take you at your word,” she said frankly.  “I feel that I may.”

As they shook hands she gave him her card.  He took out his.  “By the way,” he said, “the big hotel you passed in coming here is mine.  I built it to prevent a more hideous one being built, and let it to the proprietor.  You might like to ascend the tower.  The view at sundown is incomparable.  At present the hotel is shut, but the guardian will show you everything if you give him my card.”

He pencilled some words in Arabic on the back from right to left.

“You write Arabic, too?” Domini said, watching the forming of the pretty curves with interest.

“Oh, yes; I am more than half African, though my father was a Sicilian and my mother a Roman.”

He gave her the card, took off his hat and bowed.  When the tall white door was softly shut by Smain, Domini felt rather like a new Eve expelled from Paradise, without an Adam as a companion in exile.

“Well, Madame?” said Batouch.  “Have I spoken the truth?”

“Yes.  No European garden can be so beautiful as that.  Now I am going straight home.”

She smiled to herself as she said the last word.

Outside the hotel they found Hadj looking ferocious.  He exchanged some words with Batouch, accompanying them with violent gestures.  When he had finished speaking he spat upon the ground.

“What is the matter with him?” Domini asked.

“The Monsieur who is staying here would not take him to-day, but went into the desert alone.  Hadj wishes that the nomads may cut his throat, and that his flesh may be eaten by jackals.  Hadj is sure that he is a bad man and will come to a bad end.”