He stood as if in deep and anxious thought.
“Yes, the officer. That’s his name. What is it, Boris?”
“Nothing.”
There was a sound of voices approaching the camp in the darkness. They were speaking French.
“I must,” said Androvsky, “I must——”
He made an uncertain movement, as if to go towards the dunes, checked it, and went hurriedly into the dressing-tent. As he disappeared De Trevignac came into the camp with his men. Batouch conducted the latter with all ceremony towards the fire which burned before the tents of the attendants, and, for the moment, Domini was left alone with De Trevignac.
“My husband is coming directly,” she said. “He was late in returning, but he brought gazelle. Now you must sit down at once.”
She led the way to the dining-tent. De Trevignac glanced at the table laid for three with an eager anticipation which he was far too natural to try to conceal.
“Madame,” he said, “if I disgrace myself to-night, if I eat like an ogre in a fairy tale, will you forgive me?”
“I will not forgive you if you don’t.”