She only looked at Batouch in silence.
"What is it? But I know. Madame is sad at leaving the desert, at leaving
Beni-Mora."
"Yes, Batouch. I am sad at leaving Beni-Mora."
"But Madame will return?"
"Who knows?"
"I know. The desert has a spell. He who has once seen the desert must
see it again. The desert calls and its voice is always heard. Madame
will hear it when she is far away, and some day she will feel, 'I
must come back to the land of the sun and to the beautiful land of
forgetfulness.'"
"I shall see you at the station, Batouch," Domini said quickly.
"Good-bye till then."
The train for Tunis started at sundown, in order that the travellers
might avoid the intense heat of the day. All the afternoon they kept
within doors. The Arabs were sleeping in dark rooms. The gardens were
deserted. Domini could not sleep. She sat near the French window that
opened on to the verandah and said a silent good-bye to life. For that
was what she felt--that life was leaving her, life with its intensity,
its fierce meaning. She had come out of a sort of death to find life in
Beni-Mora, and now she felt that she was going back again to something
that would be like death.
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