He did not remind her of it. It was easy to ride across the
desert and join the route where it came out from the last palms.
"So be it. Will you go to the wall then?"
He touched her hand again and walked away towards the villa, slowly on
the pale silver of the sand. When his figure was hidden by the trunks of
the trees Domini made her way to the wide parapet. She sat down on one
of the tiny seats cut in it, leaned her cheek in her hand and waited.
The sun was gathering strength, but the air was still deliciously cool,
almost cold, and the desert had not yet put on its aspect of fiery
desolation. It looked dreamlike and romantic, not only in its distances,
but near at hand. There must surely be dew, she fancied, in the Garden
of Allah. She could see no one travelling in it, only some far away
camels grazing. In the dawn the desert was the home of the breeze, of
gentle sunbeams and of liberty. Presently she heard the noise of
horses cantering near at hand, and Count Anteoni, followed by two Arab
attendants, came round the bend of the wall and drew up beneath her. He
rode on a high red Arab saddle, and a richly-ornamented gun was slung in
an embroidered case behind him on the right-hand side.
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