ether she had made acquaintance
with the man who had fled from prayer.

"Yes," she said. "You know it."

"How?"

"We have ridden to Sidi-Zerzour."

"I am not always by the wall."

"No, but I think you were that day."

"Why do you think so?"

"I am sure you were."

He did not either acknowledge or deny it.

"He has never been to see my garden," he said.

"No."

"He ought to come."

"I have told him so."

"Ah? Is he coming?"

"I don't think so."

"Persuade him to. I have a pride in my garden--oh, you have no idea what
a pride! Any neglect of it, any indifference about it rasps me, plays
upon the raw nerve each one of us possesses."

He spoke smilingly. She did not know what he was feeling, whether the
remote thinker or the imp within him was at work or play.

"I doubt if he is a man to be easily persuaded," she said.

"Perhaps not--persuade him."

After a moment Domini said:

"I wonder whether you recognise that there are obstacles which the human
will can't negotiate?"

"I could scarcely live where I do without recognising that the grains of
sand are often driven by the wind. But when there is no wind!"

"They lie still?"

"And are the desert. I want to have a strange experience."

"What?"

"A _fete_ in my garden."

"A fantasia?"

"Something far more banal. A lunch party, a _dejeuner_. Will you honour
me?"

"By breakfasting with you? Yes, of course. Thank you."

"And will you bring--the second sun worshipper?"

She looked into the Count's small, shining eyes.

"Monsieur Androvsky?"

"If that is his name. I can send him an invitation, of course. But
that's rather formal, and I don't think he is formal."

"On what day do you ask us?"

"Any day--Friday."

"And why do you ask us?"

"I wish to overcome this indifference to my garden. It hurts me, not
only in my pride, but in my affections."

The whole thing had been like a sort of serious game. Domini had not
said that she would convey the odd invitation; but when she was alone,
and thought of the way in which Count Anteoni had said "Persuade him,"
she knew she would, and she meant Androvsky to accept it. This was an
opportunity of seeing him in company with another man, a man of the
world, who had read, travelled, thought, and doubtless lived.

She asked him that evening, and saw the red, that came as it comes in a
boy's face, mount to his forehead.

"Everybody who comes to Beni-Mora comes to see the garden," she said