"
The chorus of hidden men by the fire rose in a low murmur that was like
the whisper of the desert in the night. Then the contralto voice of Ali
came to Domini and Androvsky again, but very faintly, from the distance
where the flaming torch was moving:
"No one but God and I
Knows what is in my heart."
When the voice died away for a moment Domini whispered the refrain. Then
she said:
"But is it true? Can it be true for us to-night?"
Androvsky did not reply.
"I don't think it is true," she added. "You know--don't you?"
The voice of Ali rose again, and his torch flickered on the soft wind
of the night. Its movement was slow and eerie. It seemed like his voice
made visible, a voice of flame in the blackness of the world. They
watched it. Presently she said once more:
"You know what is in my heart--don't you?"
"Do I?" he said. "All?"
"All. My heart is full of one thing--quite full."
"Then I know."
"And," she hesitated, then added, "and yours?"
"Mine too."
"I know all that is in it then?"
She still spoke questioningly. He did not reply, but held her more
closely, with a grasp that was feverish in its intensity.
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