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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Garden of Allah"

From the desert they looked both
shabby and superb, as if some millionaire had poured forth money to
create a Paradise out here, and, when it was nearly finished, had
suddenly repented of his whim and refused to spend another farthing. The
thousands upon thousands of mighty trees were bounded by long, irregular
walls of hard earth, at the top of which were stuck distraught thorn
bushes. These walls gave the rough, penurious aspect which was in such
sharp contrast to the exotic mystery they guarded. Yet in the fierce
blaze of the sun their meanness was not disagreeable. Domini even liked
it. It seemed to her as if the desert had thrown up waves to protect
this daring oasis which ventured to fling its green glory like a
defiance in the face of the Sahara. A wide track of earth, sprinkled
with stones and covered with deep ruts, holes and hummocks, wound in
from the desert between the earthen walls and vanished into the heart of
the oasis. They followed it.
Domini was filled with a sort of romantic curiosity. This luxury of
palms far out in the midst of desolation, untended apparently by
human hands--for no figures moved among them, there was no one on
the road--suggested some hidden purpose and activity, some concealed
personage, perhaps an Eastern Anteoni, whose lair lay surely somewhere
beyond them.


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