“He sees you there, as he saw you in the palanquin. But now it is night and you are quite alone. You are not asleep. Something keeps you awake. You are excited. You go out of the tent upon the dunes and look towards the fires of the city. He hears the jackals howling all around you, and sees the skeletons of dead camels white under the moon.”
She shuddered in spite of herself.
“There is something tremendous in your soul. He says it is as if all the date palms of the desert bore their fruit together, and in all the dry places, where men and camels have died of thirst in bygone years, running springs burst forth, and as if the sand were covered with millions of golden flowers big as the flower of the aloe.”
“But then it is joy, it must be joy!”
“He says it is great joy.”
“Then why does he look like that, breathe like that?”
She indicated the Diviner, who was trembling where he crouched, and breathing heavily, and always sweating like one in agony.
“There is more,” said the Count, slowly.
“Tell me.”
“You stand alone upon the dunes and you look towards the city. He hears the tomtoms beating, and distant cries as if there were a fantasia. Then he sees a figure among the dunes coming towards you.”