Androvsky got up from his seat and walked back to the garden doorway. His restless demeanour and lowering expression destroyed all sense of calm and leisure. Count Anteoni looked after him, and then at Domini, with a sort of playful surprise. He was going to speak, but before the words came Smain appeared, carrying reverently a large envelope covered with Arab writing. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” the Count said. “Of course.” He took the letter, and at once a vivid expression of excitement shone in his eyes. When he had read it there was a glow upon his face as if the flames of a fire played over it. “Miss Enfilden,” he said, “will you think me very discourteous if I leave you for a moment? The messenger who brought this has come from far and starts to-day on his return journey. He has come out of the south, three hundred kilometres away, from Beni-Hassan, a sacred village--a sacred village.” He repeated the last words, lowering his voice. “Of course go and see him.” “And you?” He glanced towards Androvsky, who was standing with his back to them. “Won’t you show Monsieur Androvsky the garden?” Hearing his name Androvsky turned, and the Count at once made his excuses to him and followed Smain towards the garden gate, carrying the letter that had come from Beni-Hassan in his hand. When he had gone Domini remained on the divan, and Androvsky by the door, with his eyes on the ground. She took another cigarette from the box on the table beside her, struck a match and lit it carefully. Then she said: “Do you care to see the garden?” She spoke indifferently, coldly. The desire to show her Paradise to him had died away, but the parting words of the Count prompted the question, and so she put it as to a stranger. “Thank you, Madame--yes,” he replied, as if with an effort. She got up, and they went out together on to the broad walk. “Which way do you want to go?” she asked. She saw him glance at her quickly, with anxiety in his eyes. “You know best where we should go, Madame.” “I daresay you won’t care about it. Probably you are not interested in gardens. It does not matter really which path we take. They are all very much alike.” “I am sure they are all very beautiful.”