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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Garden of Allah"

His eyes were turned toward the door through
which the sound of the music had come.
"I!" he answered. "I--Monsieur, I am afraid that to me this music means
very little. I cannot judge of it."
"But the words?" asked the Count with a certain pressure.
"They do not seem to me to suggest much more than the music."
The Count said no more. As she went into the outer room Domini felt
angry, as she had felt angry in the garden at Sidi-Zerzour when
Androvsky said:
"These native women do not interest me. I see nothing attractive in
them."
For now, as then, she knew that he had lied.

CHAPTER XI
Domini came into the ante-room alone. The three men had paused for a
moment behind her, and the sound of a match struck reached her ears
as she went listlessly forward to the door which was open to the broad
garden path, and stood looking out into the sunshine. Butterflies were
flitting here and there through the riot of gold, and she heard faint
bird-notes from the shadows of the trees, echoed by the more distant
twitter of Larbi's flute. On the left, between the palms, she caught
glimpses of the desert and of the hard and brilliant mountains, and,
as she stood there, she remembered her sensations on first entering the
garden and how soon she had learned to love it.


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