the garden of allah-第81章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



As　the　voice　of　the　Diviner　fainted　away　on　the　wind；　and　the　vision
of　his　wounded　face　and　piercing　eyes　was　lost　in　the　whirling　sand
grains；　Androvsky　stretched　out　his　hand　and　drew　together　the　heavy
curtains　of　the　palanquin。　The　world　was　shut　out。　They　were　alone　for
the　first　time　as　man　and　wife；　moving　deliberately　on　this　beast　they
could　not　see；　but　whose　slow　and　monotonous　gait　swung　them　gently　to
and　fro；　out　from　the　last　traces　of　civilisation　into　the　life　of　the
sands。　With　each　soft　step　the　camel　took　they　went　a　little　farther
from　Beni…Mora；　came　a　little　nearer　to　that　liberty　of　which　Domini
sometimes　dreamed；　to　the　smiling　eyes　and　the　lifted　spheres　of　fire。

She　shut　her　eyes　now。　She　did　not　want　to　see　her　husband　or　to　touch
his　hand。　She　did　not　want　to　speak。　She　only　wanted　to　feel　in　the
uttermost　depths　of　her　spirit　this　movement；　steady　and　persistent；
towards　the　goal　of　her　earthly　desires；　to　realise　absolutely　the
marvellous　truth　that　after　years　of　lovelessness；　and　a　dreaminess
more　benumbing　than　acute　misery；　happiness　more　intense　than　any　she
had　been　able　to　conceive　of　in　her　moments　of　greatest　yearning　was
being　poured　into　her　heart；　that　she　was　being　taken　to　the　place
where　she　would　be　with　the　one　human　being　whose　presence　blotted　out
even　the　memory　of　the　false　world　and　gave　to　her　the　true。　And
whereas　in　the　dead　years　she　had　sometimes　been　afraid　of　feeling　too
much　the　emptiness　and　the　desolation　of　her　life；　she　was　now　afraid
of　feeling　too　little　its　fulness　and　its　splendour；　was　afraid　of
some　day　looking　back　to　this　superb　moment　of　her　earthly　fate；　and
being　conscious　that　she　had　not　grasped　its　meaning　till　it　was　gone；
that　she　had　done　that　most　terrible　of　all　thingsrealised　that　she
had　been　happy　to　the　limits　of　her　capacity　for　happiness　only　when
her　happiness　was　numbered　with　the　past。

But　could　that　ever　be？　Was　Time；　such　Time　as　this；　not　Eternity？
Could　such　earthly　things　as　this　intense　joy　ever　have　been　and　no
longer　be？　It　seemed　to　her　that　it　could　not　be　so。　She　felt　like　one
who　held　Eternity's　hand；　and　went　out　with　that　great　guide　into　the
endlessness　of　supreme　perfection。　For　her；　just　then；　the　Creator's
scheme　was　rounded　to　a　flawless　circle。　All　things　fell　into　order；
stars　and　men；　the　silent　growing　things；　the　seas；　the　mountains　and
the　plains；　fell　into　order　like　a　vast　choir　to　obey　the　command　of
the　canticle：　Benedicite；　omnia　opera！〃

〃Bless　ye　the　Lord！〃　The　roaring　of　the　wind　about　the　palanquin
became　the　dominant　voice　of　this　choir　in　Domini's　ears。

〃Bless　ye　the　Lord！〃　It　was　obedient；　not　as　the　slave；　but　as　the
free　will　is　obedient；　as　her　heart；　which　joined　its　voice　with　this
wind　of　the　desert　was　obedient；　because　it　gloriously　chose　with　all
its　powers；　passions；　aspirations　to　be　so。　The　real　obedience　is　only
love　fulfilling　its　last　desire；　and　this　great　song　was　the
fulfilling　of　the　last　desire　of　all　created　things。　Domini　knew　that
she　did　not　realise　the　joy　of　this　moment　of　her　life　now　when　she
felt　no　longer　that　she　was　a　woman；　but　only　that　she　was　a　living
praise　winging　upward　to　God。

A　warm；　strong　hand　clasped　hers。　She　opened　her　eyes。　In　the　dim
twilight　of　the　palanquin　she　saw　the　darkness　of　Androvsky's　tall
figure　sitting　in　the　crouched　attitude　rendered　necessary　by　the
peculiar　seat；　and　swaying　slightly　to　the　movement　of　the　camel。　The
light　was　so　obscure　that　she　could　not　see　his　eyes　or　clearly
discern　his　features；　but　she　felt　that　he　was　gazing　at　her　shadowy
figure；　that　his　mind　was　passionately　at　work。　Had　he；　too；　been
silently　praising　God　for　his　happiness；　and　was　he　now　wishing　the
body　to　join　in　the　soul's　delight？

She　left　her　hand　in　his　passively。　The　sense　of　her　womanhood；　lost
for　a　moment　in　the　ecstasy　of　worship；　had　returned　to　her；　but　with
a　new　and　tremendous　meaning　which　seemed　to　change　her　nature。
Androvsky　forcibly　pressed　her　hand　with　his；　let　it　go；　then　pressed
it　again；　repeating　the　action　with　a　regularity　that　seemed　suggested
by　some　guidance。　She　imagined　him　pressing　her　hand　each　time　his
heart　pulsed。　She　did　not　want　to　return　the　pressure。　As　she　felt　his
hand　thus　closing　and　unclosing　over　hers；　she　was　conscious　that　she；
who　in　their　intercourse　had　played　a　dominant　part；　who　had　even
deliberately　brought　about　that　intercourse　by　her　action　on　the
tower；　now　longed　to　be　passive　and；　forgetting　her　own　power　and　the
strength　and　force　of　her　nature；　to　lose　herself　in　the　greater
strength　and　force　of　this　man　to　whom　she　had　given　herself。　Never
before　had　she　wished　to　be　anything　but　strong。　Nor　did　she　desire
weakness　now；　but　only　that　his　nature　should　rise　above　hers　with
eagle's　wings；　that　when　she　looked　up　she　should　see　him；　never　when
she　looked　down。　She　thought　that　to　see　him　below　her　would　kill　her；
and　she　opened　her　lips　to　say　so。　But　something　in　the　windy　darkness
kept　her　silent。　The　heavy　curtains　of　the　palanquin　shook
perpetually；　and　the　tall　wooden　rods　on　which　they　were　slung
creaked；　making　a　small；　incessant　noise　like　a　complaining；　which
joined　itself　with　the　more　distant　but　louder　noise　made　by　the
leaves　of　the　thousands　of　palm　trees　dashed　furiously　together。　From
behind　came　the　groaning　of　one　of　the　camels；　borne　on　the　gusts　of
the　wind；　and　faint　sounds　of　the　calling　voices　of　the　Arabs　who
accompanied　them。　It　was　not　a　time　to　speak。

She　wondered　where　they　were；　in　what　part　of　the　oasis；　whether　they
had　yet　gained　the　beginning　of　the　great　route　which　had　always
fascinated　her；　and　which　was　now　the　road　to　the　goal　of　all　her
earthly　desires。　But　there　was　nothing　to　tell　her。　She　travelled　in　a
world　of　dimness　and　the　roar　of　wind；　and　in　this　obscurity　and
uproar；　combined　with　perpetual　though　slight　motion；　she　lost　all
count　of　time。　She　had　no　idea　how　long　it　was　since　she　had　come　out
of　the　church　door　with　Androvsky。　At　first　she　thought　it　was　only　a
few　minutes；　and　that　the　camels　must　be　just　coming　to　the　statue　of
the　Cardinal。　Then　she　thought　that　it　might　be　an　hour；　even　more；
that　Count　Anteoni's　garden　was　long　since　left　behind；　and　that　they
were　passing；　perhaps；　along　the　narrow　streets　of　the　village　of　old
Beni…Mora；　and　nearing　the　edge　of　the　oasis。　But　even　in　this
confusion　of　mind　she　felt　that　something　would　tell　her　when　the　last
palms　had　vanished　in　the　sand　mist　and　the　caravan　came　out　into　the
desert。　The　sound　of　the　wind　would　surely　be　different　when　they　met
it　on　the　immense　flats；　where　there　was　nothing　to　break　its　fury。　Or
even　if　it　were　not　different；　she　felt　that　she　would　know；　that　the
desert　would　surely　speak　to　her　in　the　moment　when；　at　last；　it　took
her　to　itself。　It　could　not　be　that　they　would　be　taken　by　the　desert
and　she　not　know　it。　But　she　wanted　Androvsky　to　know　it　too。　For　she
felt　that　the　moment　when　the　desert　took　them；　man　and　wife；　would　be
a　great　moment　in　their　lives；　greater　even　than　that　in　which　they
met　as　they　came　into　the　blue　country。　And　she　set　herself　to　listen；
with　a　passionate　expectation；　with　an　attention　so　close　and
determined　that　it　thrilled　her　body；　and　even　affected　her　muscles。

What　she　was　listening　for　was　a　rising　of　the　wind；　a　crescendo　of
its　voice。　She　was　anticipating　a　triumphant　cry　from　the　Sahara；
unlimited　power　made　audible　in　a　sound　like　the　blowing　of　the
clarion　of　the　sands。

Androvsky's　hand　was　still　on　hers；　but　now　it　did　not　move　as　if
obeying　the　pulsations　of　his　heart。　It　held　hers　closely；　warmly；　and
sent　his　strength　to　her；　and　presently；　for　an　instant；　taking　her
mind　from　the　desert；　she　lost　herself　in　the　mystery　and　the　wonder
of　human　companionship。　She　realised　that　the　touch　of　Androvsky's
hand　on　hers　altered　for　her　herself；　and　the　whole　universe　as　it　was
presented　to　her；　as　she　observed　and　felt　it。　Nothing　remained　as　it
was　when　he　did　not　touch　her。　There　was　something　stupefying　in　the
thought；　something　almost　terrible。　The　wonder　that　is　alive　in　the
tiny　thing