They were close to the fountain now, and the marabout and his companion were coming straight towards them.
“If Madame will allow me I will salute the marabout,” said Batouch.
“Certainly.”
He sprang off his horse immediately, tied it up to the railing of the fountain, and went respectfully towards the approaching potentate to kiss his hand. Domini saw the marabout stop and Batouch bend down, then lift himself up and suddenly move back as if in surprise. The Arab who was with the marabout seemed also surprised. He held out his hand to Batouch, who took it, kissed it, then kissed his own hand, and turning, pointed towards Domini. The Arab spoke a word to the marabout, then left him, and came rapidly forward to the fountain. As he drew close to her she saw a face browned by the sun, a very small, pointed beard, a pair of intensely bright eyes surrounded by wrinkles. These eyes held her. It seemed to her that she knew them, that she had often looked into them and seen their changing expressions. Suddenly she exclaimed:
“Count Anteoni!”
“Yes, it is I!”
He held out his hand and clasped hers.
“So you have started upon your desert journey,” he added, looking closely at her, as he had often looked in the garden.
“Yes.”
“And as I ventured to advise—that last time, do you remember?”