But she faced Androvsky with calm eyes, and
her lips smiled.
"You are tired of it?" she said.
"I never meant to stay long," he answered, looking down.
"There is not very much to do here. Shall we ride back to the village
now?"
She turned her horse, and as she did so cast one more glance at the
three palm trees that stood far out on the path of the moon. They looked
like three malignant fates lifting up their hands in malediction. For a
moment she shivered in the saddle. Then she touched her horse with the
whip and turned her eyes away. Androvsky followed her and rode by her
side in silence.
To gain the oasis they passed near to the tents of the nomads, whose
fires were dying out. The guard dogs were barking furiously, and
straining at the cords which fastened them to the tent pegs, by the
short hedges of brushwood that sheltered the doors of filthy rags. The
Arabs were all within, no doubt huddled up on the ground asleep. One
tent was pitched alone, at a considerable distance from the others, and
under the first palms of the oasis. A fire smouldered before it, casting
a flickering gleam of light upon something dark which lay upon the
ground between it and the tent.
Pages:
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496