As they shook hands she gave him her card. He took out his. “By the way,” he said, “the big hotel you passed in coming here is mine. I built it to prevent a more hideous one being built, and let it to the proprietor. You might like to ascend the tower. The view at sundown is incomparable. At present the hotel is shut, but the guardian will show you everything if you give him my card.” He pencilled some words in Arabic on the back from right to left. “You write Arabic, too?” Domini said, watching the forming of the pretty curves with interest. “Oh, yes; I am more than half African, though my father was a Sicilian and my mother a Roman.” He gave her the card, took off his hat and bowed. When the tall white door was softly shut by Smain, Domini felt rather like a new Eve expelled from Paradise, without an Adam as a companion in exile. “Well, Madame?” said Batouch. “Have I spoken the truth?” “Yes. No European garden can be so beautiful as that. Now I am going straight home.” She smiled to herself as she said the last word. Outside the hotel they found Hadj looking ferocious. He exchanged some words with Batouch, accompanying them with violent gestures. When he had finished speaking he spat upon the ground. “What is the matter with him?” Domini asked. “The Monsieur who is staying here would not take him to-day, but went into the desert alone. Hadj wishes that the nomads may cut his throat, and that his flesh may be eaten by jackals. Hadj is sure that he is a bad man and will come to a bad end.” “Because he does not want a guide every day! But neither shall I.” “Madame is quite different. I would give my life for Madame.” “Don’t do that, but go this afternoon and find me a horse. I don’t want a quiet one, but something with devil, something that a Spahi would like to ride.” The desert spirits were speaking to her body as well as to her mind. A physical audacity was stirring in her, and she longed to give it vent. “Madame is like the lion. She is afraid of nothing.” “You speak without knowing, Batouch. Don’t come for me this afternoon, but bring round a horse, if you can find one, to-morrow morning.” “This very evening I will--” “No, Batouch. I said to-morrow morning.” She spoke with a quiet but inflexible decision which silenced him. Then she gave him ten francs and went into the dark house, from which the burning noonday sun was carefully excluded. She intended to rest after _dejeuner_, and towards sunset to go to the big hotel and mount alone to the summit of the tower. It was half-past twelve, and a faint rattle of knives and forks from the _salle-a-manger_ told her that _dejeuner_ was ready. She went upstairs, washed her face and hands in cold water, stood still while Suzanne shook the dust from her gown, and then descended to the public room. The keen air had given her an appetite.