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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Garden of Allah"

As she had felt the call of the desert she now felt the
call of the oasis. In this land thrilled eternally a summons to go
onward, to seek, to penetrate, to be a passionate pilgrim. She wondered
whether her companion's heart could hear it.
"I don't know why it is," she said, "but out here I always feel
expectant. I always feel as if some marvellous thing might be going to
happen to me."
She did not add "Do you?" but looked at him as if for a reply.
"Yes, Madame," he said.
"I suppose it is because I am new to Africa. This is my first visit
here. I am not like you. I can't speak Arabic."
She suddenly wondered whether the desert was new to him as to her. She
had assumed that it was. Yet as he spoke Arabic it was almost certain
that he had been much in Africa.
"I do not speak it well," he answered.
And he looked away towards the dense thickets of the palms. The track
narrowed till the trees on either side cast patterns of moving shade
across it and the silent mystery was deepened. As far as the eye could
see the feathery, tufted foliage swayed in the little wind. The desert
had vanished, but sent in after them the message of its soul, the
marvellous breath which Domini had drunk into her lungs so long before
she saw it.


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