登陆注册
5242100000157

第157章 CHAPTER XXIV(2)

She was delighted and surprised. She had been right, then. It was time that Androvsky was subjected to another influence than that of the unpeopled wastes. It was time that he came into contact with men whose minds were more akin to his than the minds of the Arabs who had been their only companions. She began to imagine him with her in civilised places, to be able to imagine him. And she was glad they had come to Amara and confirmed in her resolve to stay on there. She even began to wish that the French officers quartered there--few in number, some five or six--would find them in the sand, and that Androvsky would offer them hospitality. It occurred to her that it was not quite wholesome for a man to live in isolation from his fellow-men, even with the woman he loved, and she determined that she would not be selfish in her love, that she would think for Androvsky, act for him, even against her own inclination. Perhaps his idea of life in an oasis apart from Europeans was one she ought to combat, though it fascinated her. Perhaps it would be stronger, more sane, to face a more ordinary, less dreamy, life, in which they would meet with people, in which they would inevitably find themselves confronted with duties. She felt powerful enough in that moment to do anything that would make for Androvsky's welfare of soul. His body was strong and at ease. She thought of him going away with the priest in friendly conversation.

How splendid it would be if she could feel some day that the health of his soul accorded completely with that of his body!

"Batouch!" she called almost gaily.

Batouch appeared, languidly smoking a cigarette, and with a large flower tied to a twig protending from behind his ear.

"Saddle the horses. Monsieur has gone with the Pere Beret. I shall take a ride, just a short ride round the camp over there--in at the city gate, through the market-place, and home. You will come with me."

Batouch threw away his cigarette with energy. Poet though he was, all the Arab blood in him responded to the thought of a gallop over the sands. Within a few minutes they were off. When she was in the saddle it was at all times difficult for Domini to be sad or even pensive.

She had a native passion for a good horse, and riding was one of the joys, and almost the keenest, of her life. She felt powerful when she had a spirited, fiery animal under her, and the wide spaces of the desert summoned speed as they summoned dreams. She and Batouch went away at a rapid pace, circled round the Arab cemetery, made a detour towards the south, and then cantered into the midst of the camps of the Ouled Nails. It was the hour of the siesta. Only a few people were stirring, coming and going over the dunes to and from the city on languid errands for the women of the tents, who reclined in the shade of their brushwood arbours upon filthy cushions and heaps of multi- coloured rags, smoking cigarettes, playing cards with Arab and negro admirers, or staring into vacancy beneath their heavy eyebrows as they listened to the sound of music played upon long pipes of reed. No dogs barked in their camp. The only guardians were old women, whose sandy faces were scored with innumerable wrinkles, and whose withered hands drooped under their loads of barbaric rings and bracelets. Batouch would evidently have liked to dismount here. Like all Arabs he was fascinated by the sight of these idols of the waste, whose painted faces called to the surface the fluid poetry within him, but Domini rode on, descending towards the city gate by which she had first entered Amara. The priest's house was there and Androvsky was with the priest. She hoped he had perhaps gone in to return the visit paid to them. As she rode into the city she glanced at the house. The door was open and she saw the gay rugs in the little hall. She had a strong inclination to stop and ask if her husband were there. He might mount Batouch's horse and accompany her home.

"Batouch," she said, "will you ask if Monsieur Androvsky is with Pere Beret. I think--"

She stopped speaking. She had just seen her husband's face pass across the window-space of the room on the right-hand side of the hall door.

She could not see it very well. The arcade built out beyond the house cast a deep shade within, and in this shade the face had flitted like a shadow. Batouch had sprung from his horse. But the sight of the shadowy face had changed her mind. She resolved not to interrupt the two men. Long ago at Beni-Mora she had asked Androvsky to call upon a priest. She remembered the sequel to that visit. This time Androvsky had gone of his own will. If he liked this priest, if they became friends, perhaps--she remembered her vision in the dancing-house, her feeling that when she drew near Amara she was drawing near to the heart of the desert. If she should see Androvsky praying here! Yet Father Beret hardly seemed a man likely to influence her husband, or anyone with a strong and serious personality. He was surely too fond of the things of this world, too obviously a lover and cherisher of the body. Nevertheless, there was something attractive in him, a kindness, a geniality. In trouble he would be sympathetic. Certainly her husband must have taken a liking to him, and the chances of life and the influences of destiny were strange and not to be foreseen.

"No, Batouch," she said. "We won't stop."

"But, Madame," he cried, "Monsieur is in there. I saw his face at the window."

"Never mind. We won't disturb them. I daresay they have something to talk about."

They cantered on towards the market-place. It was not market-day, and the town, like the camp of the Ouled Nails, was almost deserted. As she rode up the hill towards the place of the fountain, however, she saw two handsomely-dressed Arabs, followed by a servant, slowly strolling towards her from the doorway of the Bureau Arabe. One, who was very tall, was dressed in green, and carried a long staff, from which hung green ribbons. The other wore a more ordinary costume of white, with a white burnous and a turban spangled with gold.

同类推荐
  • 莊靖先生遺集

    莊靖先生遺集

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • Memoirs of Carwin the Biloquist

    Memoirs of Carwin the Biloquist

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 法法

    法法

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 招远县志

    招远县志

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 予学

    予学

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
热门推荐
  • 古今风谣

    古今风谣

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 以力成圣

    以力成圣

    修士,以力证道……而修身者,则把身体力量的极限,发挥到顶点……看华夏武修者,如何在异世大陆的傲视天下,尽在《以力成圣》……
  • 虚构:中篇小说

    虚构:中篇小说

    本书精选近几年《百花洲》杂志“虚构”栏目中发表过的中篇小说,总结了近几年中篇小说的创作成就与风貌。作者包括罗伟章、弋舟、曾晓文、黄国荣、杨邪、方晓等当下文坛实力作家,全面反映了近几年中国中篇小说创作的整体水平发展脉络。
  • 三坟

    三坟

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 长恨歌之君早行

    长恨歌之君早行

    今朝书奏已飞入,世乱他乡可见留。有池有女妖且丽,缘君情何偏宜远。再拜愿君千万年,见物之态皆有情。下有流水上有光,一去回望不言还。世途言别泪成行,换却金樽汝霓裳。你如玉彻天生成,来往风尘断山河。我牵引心共白头。这是一篇很正经的沙雕文,哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈。
  • 调教武周

    调教武周

    此文三伤,伤人心,伤人肺,伤人目。 作者三无,无文化,无节操,无下限。 诸君三思,慎入坑,慎当真,慎精读。 ------------------------- 寄语: 半卷宫帘半掩门,碾冰为土玉为盆。 偷来诗经捻作尘,借得桃花一缕魂。
  • 捡了一片荒野

    捡了一片荒野

    一家人和房子一起出现在了荒野?野兽、饥饿、神秘建筑物、各种诡异事件。为了家人,努力吧!
  • 最甜毒夫

    最甜毒夫

    谁说女尊男子都是谨遵三从四德、以妻为天的?出来!陪她一起跪搓衣板!她家公老虎给她订了家规:晚归,跪搓衣板;看别的男子一眼,跪搓衣板;敢给老公发火,跪搓衣板!废物女主奋起:我要重振妻纲!公老虎:你说什么?废物秒变狗腿:没什么,只是觉得搓衣板太旧,该换换了。ps:新文开坑,希望各位帅锅美女手下留情,作者菌很玻璃心,人参公鸡会哭的(?????)
  • 技校情缘

    技校情缘

    爱的最初开始也是爱最终的结束,在那一年不经意的一次感动我爱着上你。就这样义无反顾的爱了十多年,直到我生命出现了不一样的女孩。我还是一样爱着你,在爱情的成长过程中,我经历了很多,懂得了很多。这就是属于我也是属于你们的爱情故事,因为我还爱着我,不愿意对你放手。只为了一个对你爱的承诺,没有想到的是我付出了自己最宝贵的时光。在命运的巨轮之下我不得不放弃对你爱,最后我做到了我守护到你结婚,静静的把你放在心底之间爱的记忆里面。我想的努力的忘记你,可是我真的忘记不了你,因为我真的很爱很爱你。我曾经尝试着去爱上别人,最后也是伤痕累累。我用尽自己所有去爱着你们,是你们教会了我爱,也是你们让我不会在去爱。
  • 三个同姓人

    三个同姓人

    选自福尔摩斯探案故事集,包括《三个同姓人》《狮鬃毛》《魔鬼之足》等多篇脍炙人口的短篇小说。小说结构严谨,情节离奇曲折、引人人胜。作者塑造的文学形象个性鲜明,写作中把病理学、心理学等融人到侦探艺术中,形成了侦探小说独特的风格。