She did not feel as if she were sorry. Indeed, she thought she was glad too. That the dancer should try to do a thing and fail would have seemed contradictory. And the streak of blood she had just seen seemed to relieve her suddenly and to take from her all anger. Her self-control returned. “Thank you once more,” she said to her companion. “Goodnight.” She remembered the episode of the tower that afternoon, and resolved to take a definite line this time, and not to run the chance of a second desertion. She started off down the street, but found him walking beside her in silence. She stopped. “I am very much obliged to you for getting me out,” she said, looking straight at him. “And now, good-night.” Almost for the first time he endured her gaze without any uncertainty, and she saw that though he might be hesitating, uneasy, even contemptible--as when he hurried down the road in the wake of the negro procession--he could also be a dogged man. “I’ll go with you, Madame,” he said. “Why?” “It’s night.” “I’m not afraid.” “I’ll go with you, Madame.” He said it again harshly and kept his eyes on her, frowning. “And if I refuse?” she said, wondering whether she was going to refuse or not. “I’ll follow you, Madame.” She knew by the look on his face that he, too, was thinking of what had happened in the afternoon. Why should she wish to deprive him of the reparation he was anxious to make--obviously anxious in an almost piteously determined way? It was poor pride in her, a mean little feeling. “Come with me,” she said. They went on together. The Arabs, stirred up by the fracas in Tahar’s café, were seething with excitement, and several of them, gathered together in a little crowd, were quarrelling and shouting at the end of the street near the statue of the Cardinal. Domini’s escort saw them and hesitated. “I think, Madame, it would be better to take a side street,” he said. “Very well. Let us go to the left here. It is bound to bring us to the hotel as it runs parallel to the house of the sand diviner.” He started. “The sand-diviner?” he said in his low, strong voice. “Yes.” She walked on into a tiny alley. He followed her. “You haven’t seen the thin man with the bag of sand?” “No, Madame.” “He reads your past in sand from the desert and tells what your future will be.” The man made no reply. “Will you pay him a visit?” Domini asked curiously. “No, Madame. I do not care for such things.” Suddenly she stood still. “Oh, look!” she said. “How strange! And there are others all down the street.”