all died away and was renewed three times. The old man and the
boy beneath the tower turned their faces towards Mecca, fell upon their
knees and bowed their heads to the hot stones. The tall Arab under the
palm sank down swiftly. Domini kept the glasses at her eyes. Through
them, as in a sort of exaggerated vision, very far off, yet intensely
distinct, she saw the man with whom she had travelled in the train. He
went to and fro, to and fro on the burning ground till the fourth call
of the Mueddin died away. Then, as he approached the isolated palm tree
and saw the Arab beneath it fall to the earth and bow his long body in
prayer, he paused and stood still as if in contemplation. The glasses
were so powerful that it was possible to see the expressions on faces
even at that distance. The expression on the traveller's face was,
or seemed to be, at first one of profound attention. But this changed
swiftly as he watched the bowing figure, and was succeeded by a look of
uneasiness, then of fierce disgust, then--surely--of fear or horror. He
turned sharply away like a driven man, and hurried off along the cliff
edge in a striding walk, quickening his steps each moment till his
departure became a flight. He disappeared behind a projection of earth
where the path sank to the river bed.

Domini laid the glasses down on the wall and looked at Count Anteoni.

"You say an atheist in the desert is unimaginable?

"Isn't it true?"

"Has an atheist a hatred, a horror of prayer?"

"Chi lo sa? The devil shrank away from the lifted Cross."

"Because he knew how much that was true it symbolised."

"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.'"

* * * * *

D