bluntly, "why should he not come at night?"

"Is such a thing usual?"

"But he was visiting the tents over there--of the nomads, and he had
heard of our arrival. He knew it was informal, but, as he said, in the
desert one forgets formalities."

"And--and did he ask for anything?"

"Ask?"

"I saw--on the table-coffee and--and there was liqueur."

"Naturally I offered him something."

"He didn't ask?"

"But, Boris, how could he?"

After a moment of silence he said:

"No, of course not."

He shifted in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, put his hands
on the arms of it, and continued:

"What did he talk about?"

"A little about Amara."

"That was all?"

"He hadn't been here long when you came--"

"Oh."

"But he told me one thing that was horrible," she added, obedient to her
instinct always to tell the complete truth to him, even about trifles
which had nothing to do with their lives or their relation to each
other.

"Horrible!" Androvsky said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward in
his chair.

She sat down by him. They both had their backs to the light and were in
shadow.

"Yes."

"What was it about--some crime here?"

"Oh, no! It was about that liqueur you saw on the table."

Androvsky was sitting upon a basket chair. As she spoke it creaked under
a violent movement that he made.

"How could--what could there be that was horrible connected with that?"
he asked, speaking slowly.

"It was made by a monk, a Trappist--"

He got up from his chair and went to the opening of the tent.

"What--" she began, thinking he was perhaps feeling the pain in his head
more severely.

"I only want to be in the air. It's rather hot there. Stay where, you
are, Domini, and--well, what else?"

He stepped out into the sand, and stood just outside the tent in its
shadow.

"It was invented by a Trappist monk of the monastery of El-Largani, who
disappeared from the monastery. He had taken the final vows. He had been
there for over twenty years."

"He--he disappeared--did the priest say?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"I don't think--I am sure he doesn't know. But what does it matter?
The awful thing is that he should leave the monastery after taking the
eternal vows--vows made to God."

After a moment, during which neither of them spoke and Androvsky stood
quite still in the sand, she added:

"Poor man!"

Androvsky came a step towards her, then paused.

"Why do you say that, Domini?"

"I