omething alive
with her at the tower summit, something which by a sudden movement had
caused the little noise she had heard. What was it? When she turned her
head she could only see the outer wall of the staircase, a section of
the narrow white space which surrounded it, an angle of the parapet and
blue air.

She listened, holding her breath and closing her two hands on the
parapet, which was warm from the sun. Now, caught back to reality, she
could hear faintly the sounds from below in Beni-Mora. But they did not
concern her, and she wished to shut them out from her ears. What did
concern her was to know what was with her up in the sky. Had a bird
alighted on the parapet and startled her by scratching at the plaster
with its beak? Could a mouse have shuffled in the wall? Or was there a
human being up there hidden from her by the masonry?

This last supposition disturbed her almost absurdly for a moment. She
was inclined to walk quickly round to the opposite side of the tower,
but something stronger than her inclination, an imperious shyness, held
her motionless. She had been carried so far away from the world that
she felt unable to face the scrutiny of any world-bound creature. Having
been in the transparent region of magic it seemed to her as if her
secret, the great secret of the absolutely true, the naked personality
hidden in every human being, were set blazing in her eyes like some
torch borne in a procession, just for that moment. The moment past, she
could look anyone fearlessly in the face; but not now, not yet.

While she stood there, half turning round, she heard the sound again and
knew what caused it. A foot had shifted on the plaster floor. There was
someone else then looking out over the desert. A sudden idea struck her.
Probably it was Count Anteoni. He knew she was coming and might have
decided to act once more as her cicerone. He had not heard her climbing
the stairs, and, having gone to the far side of the tower, was no doubt
watching the sunset, lost in a dream as she had been.

She resolved not to disturb him--if it was he. When he had dreamed
enough he must inevitably come round to where she was standing in order
to gain the staircase. She would let him find her there. Less troubled
now, but in an utterly changed mood, she turned, leaned once more on
the parapet and looked over, this time observantly, prepared to note the
details that, combined and veiled in the evening light of Africa, made
t