nd you must--you must be blessed by Him."

"But He has blessed me," she whispered, through tears that rushed from
her eyes, stirred from their well-springs by his sudden outburst of
love for her. "He has blessed me. He has given me you, your love, your
truth."

Androvsky released her as abruptly as he had taken her in his arms,
turned, and went out into the desert.

CHAPTER XXIV

True to his promise, on the following day the priest called to inquire
after Androvsky's health. He happened to come just before _dejeuner_ was
ready, and met Androvsky on the sand before the tent door.

"It's not fever then, Monsieur," he said, after they had shaken hands.

"No, no," Androvsky replied. "I am quite well this morning."

The priest looked at him closely with an unembarrassed scrutiny.

"Have you been long in the desert, Monsieur?" he asked.

"Some weeks."

"The heat has tired you. I know the look--"

"I assure you, Monsieur, that I am accustomed to heat. I have lived in
North Africa all my life."

"Indeed. And yet by your appearance I should certainly suppose that you
needed a change from the desert. The air of the Sahara is magnificent,
but there are people--"

"I am not one of them," Androvsky said abruptly. "I have never felt so
strong physically as since I have lived in the sand."

The priest still looked at him closely, but said nothing further on
the subject of health. Indeed, almost immediately his attention was
distracted by the apparition of Ouardi bearing dishes from the cook's
tent.

"I am afraid I have called at a very unorthodox time," he remarked,
looking at his watch; "but the fact is that here in Amara we--"

"I hope you will stay to _dejeuner_," Androvsky said.

"It is very good of you. If you are certain that I shall not put you
out."

"Please stay."

"I will, then, with pleasure."

He moved his lips expectantly, as if only a sense of politeness
prevented him from smacking them. Androvsky went towards the
sleeping-tent, where Domini, who had been into the city, was washing her
hands.

"The priest has called," he said. "I have asked him to _dejeuner_."

She looked at him with frank astonishment in her dark eyes.

"You--Boris!"

"Yes, I. Why not?"

"I don't know. But generally you hate people."

"He seems a good sort of man."

She still looked at him with some surprise, even with curiosity.

"Have you taken a fancy to a priest?" she asked, smiling.

"Why not? This man is