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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Garden of Allah"

Do you remember?"
"I remember."
"And you do not ask me for the end of the Diviner's vision even now?"
"No."
She hesitated for an instant. Then she added:
"I will tell you why. It seemed to me that there was another's fate in
it as well as my own, and that to hear would be to intrude, perhaps,
upon another's secrets."
"That was your reason?"
"My only reason." And then she added, repeating consciously Androvsky's
words: "I think there are things that should be let alone."
"Perhaps you are right."
A stronger breath of the cool wind came over the flats, and all the palm
trees rustled. Through the garden there was a delicate stir of life.
"My children are murmuring farewell," said the Count. "I hear them. It
is time! Good-bye, Miss Enfilden--my friend, if I may call you so.
May Allah have you in his keeping, and when your summons comes, obey
it--alone."
As he said the last word his grating voice dropped to a deep note of
earnest, almost solemn, gravity. Then he lifted his hat, touched his
horse with his heel, and galloped away into the sun.
Domini watched the three riders till they were only specks on the
surface of the desert.


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