She was infected by
Androvsky's dread of a changed life, and through her excitement, that
pulsed with interest and curiosity, she felt a faint thrill of something
that was like fear.
"Boris," she said, "I feel as if your thoughts were being conveyed to me
by your touch. Perhaps the solitudes are best."
By a simultaneous impulse they pulled in their horses and listened.
Sounds came to them over the sands, thin and remote. They could not tell
what they were, but they knew that they heard something which suggested
the distant presence of life.
"What is it?" said Domini.
"I don't know, but I hear something. It travels to us from the
minarets."
They both leaned forward on their horses' necks, holding each other's
hand.
"I feel the tumult of men," Androvsky said presently.
"And I. But it seems as if no men could have elected to build a city
here."
"Here in the 'Belly of the desert,'" he said, quoting the Arabs' name
for Amara.
"Boris"--she spoke in a more eager voice, clasping his hand
strongly--"you remember the _fumoir_ in Count Anteoni's garden. The
place where it stood was the very heart of the garden.
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