He took out his watch.
"Twenty-five minutes," he said, "and my guests will be here."
"Guests!" she said with an accent of surprise.
"I invited the priest to make an even number."
"Oh!"
"You don't dislike him?"
"I like him. I respect him."
"But I'm afraid you aren't pleased?"
Domini looked him straight in the face.
"Why did you invite Father Roubier?" she said.
"Isn't four better than three?"
"You don't want to tell me."
"I am a little malicious. You have divined it, so why should I not
acknowledge it? I asked Father Roubier because I wished to see the man
of prayer with the man who fled from prayer."
"Mussulman prayer," she said quickly.
"Prayer," he said.
His voice was peculiarly harsh at that moment. It grated like an
instrument on a rough surface. Domini knew that secretly he was standing
up for the Arab faith, that her last words had seemed to strike against
the religion of the people whom he loved with an odd, concealed passion
whose fire she began to feel at moments as she grew to know him better.
It was plain from their manner to each other that their former slight
acquaintance had moved towards something like a pleasant friendship.
Pages:
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323