“Even his love must have repose.”
She went on a step or two till, but still from a distance, she could look over the low plaster wall beneath the nearest window space into the little room.
“Yes, there he is,” she whispered.
The Diviner was crouching on the floor with his back towards them and his head bent down. Only his shoulders could be seen, covered with a white gandoura. They moved perpetually but slightly.
“What is he doing?”
“Speaking with his ancestor.”
“His ancestor?”
“The sand. Aloui!”
He called softly. The figure rose, without sound and instantly, and the face of the Diviner smiled at them through the purple flowers. Again Domini had the sensation that her body was a glass box in which her thoughts, feelings and desires were ranged for this man’s inspection; but she walked resolutely through the narrow doorway and sat down on one of the divans. Count Anteoni followed.
She now saw that in the centre of the room, on the ground, there was a symmetrical pyramid of sand, and that the Diviner was gently folding together a bag in his long and flexible fingers.