was open and she saw the gay rugs in the little
hall. She had a strong inclination to stop and ask if her husband were
there. He might mount Batouch's horse and accompany her home.

"Batouch," she said, "will you ask if Monsieur Androvsky is with Pere
Beret. I think--"

She stopped speaking. She had just seen her husband's face pass across
the window-space of the room on the right-hand side of the hall door.
She could not see it very well. The arcade built out beyond the house
cast a deep shade within, and in this shade the face had flitted like a
shadow. Batouch had sprung from his horse. But the sight of the shadowy
face had changed her mind. She resolved not to interrupt the two men.
Long ago at Beni-Mora she had asked Androvsky to call upon a priest. She
remembered the sequel to that visit. This time Androvsky had gone of his
own will. If he liked this priest, if they became friends, perhaps--she
remembered her vision in the dancing-house, her feeling that when she
drew near Amara she was drawing near to the heart of the desert. If she
should see Androvsky praying here! Yet Father Beret hardly seemed a man
likely to influence her husband, or anyone with a strong and serious
personality. He was surely too fond of the things of this world, too
obviously a lover and cherisher of the body. Nevertheless, there was
something attractive in him, a kindness, a geniality. In trouble he
would be sympathetic. Certainly her husband must have taken a liking to
him, and the chances of life and the influences of destiny were strange
and not to be foreseen.

"No, Batouch," she said. "We won't stop."

"But, Madame," he cried, "Monsieur is in there. I saw his face at the
window."

"Never mind. We won't disturb them. I daresay they have something to
talk about."

They cantered on towards the market-place. It was not market-day, and
the town, like the camp of the Ouled Nails, was almost deserted. As she
rode up the hill towards the place of the fountain, however, she saw
two handsomely-dressed Arabs, followed by a servant, slowly strolling
towards her from the doorway of the Bureau Arabe. One, who was very
tall, was dressed in green, and carried a long staff, from which hung
green ribbons. The other wore a more ordinary costume of white, with a
white burnous and a turban spangled with gold.

"Madame!" said Batouch.

"Yes."

"Do you see the Arab dressed in green?"

He spoke in an almost awestruck voice.

"Yes. Who is he?"