One day Count Anteoni had asked her whether she had made acquaintance with the man who had fled from prayer.
“Yes,” she said. “You know it.”
“How?”
“We have ridden to Sidi-Zerzour.”
“I am not always by the wall.”
“No, but I think you were that day.”
“Why do you think so?”
“I am sure you were.”
He did not either acknowledge or deny it.
“He has never been to see my garden,” he said.