For there was a glorious languor even in the light, as if the sun were
faintly oppressed by the marvel of his power. The clearness of the
atmosphere in the remote desert was not obscured, but was impregnated
with the mystery that is the wonder child of shadows. The far-off
gold that kept it seemed to contain a secret darkness. In the oasis of
Beni-Mora men, who had slowly roused themselves to pray, sank down to
sleep again in the warm twilight of shrouded gardens or the warm night
of windowless rooms.
In the garden of Count Anteoni Larbi's flute was silent.
"It is like noon in a mirage," Domini said softly.
Count Anteoni nodded.
"I feel as if I were looking at myself a long way off," she added. "As
if I saw myself as I saw the grey sea and the islands on the way to
Sidi-Zerzour. What magic there is here. And I can't get accustomed
to it. Each day I wonder at it more and find it more inexplicable. It
almost frightens me."
"You could be frightened?"
"Not easily by outside things--it least I hope not."
"But what then?"
"I scarcely know. Sometimes I think all the outside things, which do
what are called the violent deeds in life, are tame, and timid, and
ridiculously impotent in comparison with the things we can't see, which
do the deeds we can't describe.
Pages:
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320