Domini knew instinctively where lay the troubled waters, what troubled
them in their subterranean dwelling. She was certain that Androvsky was
at peace with her but not with himself. She had said to him in the tent
that she thought he sometimes felt far away from God. The conviction
grew in her that even the satisfaction of his great human love was not
enough for his nature. He demanded, sometimes imperiously, not only the
peace that can be understood gloriously, but also that other peace which
passeth understanding. And because he had it not he suffered.
In the Garden of Allah he felt a loneliness even though she was with
him, and he could not speak with her of this loneliness. That was the
barrier between them, she thought.
She prayed for him: in the tent by night, in the desert under the
burning sky by day. When the muezzin cried from the minaret of some
tiny village lost in the desolation of the wastes, turning to the north,
south, east and west, and the Mussulmans bowed their shaved heads,
facing towards Mecca, she prayed to the Catholics' God, whom she felt to
be the God, too, of all the devout, of all the religions of the world,
and to the Mother of God, looking towards Africa.
Pages:
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672