“Boris—my dear one—there are many kinds of deaths. Try to trust me. Leave me to act as I must act. Let me try to be guided—only let me try.”
He did not say another word.
That night they slept apart for the first time since their marriage.
“Domini, where are you taking me? Where are we going?”
The camp was struck once more and they were riding through the desert. Domini hesitated to answer his question. It had been put with a sort of terror.
“I know nothing,” he continued. “I am in your hands like a child. It cannot be always so. I must know, I must understand. What is our life to be? What is our future? A man cannot—”
He paused. Then he said:
“I feel that you have come to some resolve. I feel it perpetually. It is as if you were in light and I in darkness, you in knowledge and I in ignorance. You—you must tell me. I have told you all now. You must tell me.”
But she hesitated.