He was torn by conflicting sensations
of despair and triumph. She was what he had believed. That made the
triumph. But since she was that where was his future with her? The monk
and the man who had fled from the monastery stood up within him to do
battle. The monk knew triumph, but the man was in torment.
Presently, as Androvsky looked at the two tents, the monk in him seemed
to die a new death, the man who had left the monastery to know a new
resurrection. He was seized by a furious desire to go backward in time,
to go backward but a few hours, to the moment when Domini did not know
what now she knew. He cursed himself for what he had done. At last he
had been able to pray. Yes, but what was prayer now, what was prayer to
the man who looked at the two tents and understood what they meant? He
moved away and began to walk up and down near to the two tents. He did
not know where Domini was. At a little distance he saw the servants
busy preparing the evening meal. Smoke rose up before the cook's tent,
curling away stealthily among a group of palm trees, beneath which some
Arab boys were huddled, staring with wide eyes at the unusual sight of
travellers.
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