the garden of allah-第31节

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that　dreamed；　perhaps；　of　distant　things。　But　now　that　she　danced　that
fled；　and　the　gleam　of　flame…lit　steel　was　in　her　eyes。

Tangled　and　vital　impressions　came　to　Domini　as　she　watched。　Now　she
saw　Jael　and　the　tent；　and　the　nails　driven　into　the　temples　of　the
sleeping　warrior。　Now　she　saw　Medea　in　the　moment　before　she　tore　to
pieces　her　brother　and　threw　the　bloody　fragments　in　Aetes's　path；
Clytemnestra's　face　while　Agamemnon　was　passing　to　the　bath；　Delilah's
when　Samson　lay　sleeping　on　her　knee。　But　all　these　imagined　faces　of
named　women　fled　like　sand　grains　on　a　desert　wind　as　the　dance　went
on　and　the　recurrent　melody　came　back　and　back　and　back　with　a　savage
and　glorious　persistence。　They　were　too　small；　too　individual；　and
pinned　the　imagination　down　too　closely。　This　dagger　dance　let　in　upon
her　a　larger　atmosphere；　in　which　one　human　being　was　as　nothing；　even
a　goddess　or　a　siren　prodigal　of　enchantments　was　a　little　thing　not
without　a　narrow　meanness　of　physiognomy。

She　looked　and　listened　till　she　saw　a　grander　procession　troop　by；
garlanded　with　mystery　and　triumph：　War　as　a　shape　with　woman's　eyes：
Night；　without　poppies；　leading　the　stars　and　moon　and　all　the
vigorous　dreams　that　must　come　true：　Love　of　woman　that　cannot　be　set
aside；　but　will　govern　the　world　from　Eden　to　the　abyss　into　which　the
nations　fall　to　the　outstretched　hands　of　God：　Death　as　Life's　leader；
with　a　staff　from　which　sprang　blossoms　red　as　the　western　sky：　Savage
Fecundity　that　crushes　all　barren　things　into　the　silent　dust：　and
then　the　Desert。

That　came　in　a　pale　cloud　of　sand；　with　a　pale　crowd　of　worshippers；
those　who　had　received　gifts　from　the　Desert's　hands　and　sought　for
more：　white…robed　Marabouts　who　had　found　Allah　in　his　garden　and
become　a　guide　to　the　faithful　through　all　the　circling　years：
murderers　who　had　gained　sanctuary　with　barbaric　jewels　in　their
blood…stained　hands：　once　tortured　men　and　women　who　had　cast　away
terrible　recollections　in　the　wastes　among　the　dunes　and　in　the
treeless　purple　distances；　and　who　had　been　granted　the　sweet　oases　of
forgetfulness　to　dwell　in：　ardent　beings　who　had　striven　vainly　to
rest　content　with　the　world　of　hills　and　valleys；　of　sea…swept　verges
and　murmuring　rivers；　and　who　had　been　driven；　by　the　labouring　soul；
on　and　on　towards　the　flat　plains　where　roll　for　ever　the　golden
wheels　of　the　chariot　of　the　sun。　She　saw；　too；　the　winds　that　are　the
Desert's　best…loved　children：　Health　with　shining　eyes　and　a　skin　of
bronze：　Passion；　half　faun；　half　black…browed　Hercules：　and　Liberty
with　upraised　arms；　beating　cymbals　like　monstrous　spheres　of　fire。

And　she　saw　palm　trees　waving；　immense　palm　trees　in　the　south。　It
seemed　to　her　that　she　travelled　as　far　away　from　Beni…Mora　as　she　had
travelled　from　England　in　coming　to　Beni…Mora。　She　made　her　way
towards　the　sun；　joining　the　pale　crowd　of　the　Desert's　worshippers。
And　always；　as　she　travelled；　she　heard　the　clashing　of　the　cymbals　of
Liberty。　A　conviction　was　born　in　her　that　Fate　meant　her　to　know　the
Desert　well；　strangely　well；　that　the　Desert　was　waiting　calmly　for
her　to　come　to　it　and　receive　that　which　it　had　to　give　to　her；　that
in　the　Desert　she　would　learn　more　of　the　meaning　of　life　than　she
could　ever　learn　elsewhere。　It　seemed　to　her　suddenly　that　she
understood　more　clearly　than　hitherto　in　what　lay　the　intense；　the
over…mastering　and　hypnotic　attraction　exercised　already　by　the　Desert
over　her　nature。　In　the　Desert　there　must　be；　there　wasshe　felt　it
not　only　light　to　warm　the　body；　but　light　to　illuminate　the　dark
places　of　the　soul。　An　almost　fatalistic　idea　possessed　her。　She　saw　a
figureone　of　the　Messengersstanding　with　her　beside　the　corpse　of
her　father　and　whispering　in　her　ear　〃Beni…Mora〃；　taking　her　to　the
map　and　pointing　to　the　word　there；　filling　her　brain　and　heart　with
suggestions；　tillas　she　had　thought　almost　without　reason；　and　at
haphazardshe　chose　Beni…Mora　as　the　place　to　which　she　would　go　in
search　of　recovery；　of　self…knowledge。　It　had　been　pre…ordained。　The
Messenger　had　been　sent。　The　Messenger　had　guided　her。　And　he　would
come　again；　when　the　time　was　ripe；　and　lead　her　on　into　the　Desert。
She　felt　it。　She　knew　it。

She　looked　round　at　the　Arabs。　She　was　as　much　a　fatalist　as　any　one
of　them。　She　looked　at　the　stranger。　What　was　he？

Abruptly　in　her　imagination　a　vision　rose。　She　gazed　once　more　into
the　crowd　that　thronged　about　the　Desert　having　received　gifts　at　the
Desert's　hands；　and　in　it　she　saw　the　stranger。

He　was　kneeling；　his　hands　were　stretched　out；　his　head　was　bowed；　and
he　was　praying。　And；　while　he　prayed；　Liberty　stood　by　him　smiling；
and　her　fiery　cymbals　were　like　the　aureoles　that　illumine　the
beautiful　faces　of　the　saints。

For　some　reason　that　she　could　not　understand　her　heart　began　to　beat
fast；　and　she　felt　a　burning　sensation　behind　her　eyes。

She　thought　that　this　extraordinary　music；　that　this　amazing　dance；
excited　her　too　much。

The　white　bundle　at　Suzanne's　side　stirred。　Irena；　holding　the　daggers
above　her　head；　had　sprung　from　the　little　platform　and　was　dancing　on
the　earthen　floor　in　the　midst　of　the　Arabs。

Her　thin　body　shook　convulsively　in　time　to　the　music。　She　marked　the
accents　with　her　shudders。　Excitement　had　grown　in　her　till　she　seemed
to　be　in　a　feverish　passion　that　was　half　exultant；　half　despairing。
In　her　expression；　in　her　movements；　in　the　way　she　held　herself；
leaning　backwards　with　her　face　looking　up；　her　breast　and　neck
exposed　as　if　she　offered　her　life；　her　love　and　all　the　mysteries　in
her；　to　an　imagined　being　who　dominated　her　savage　and　ecstatic　soul；
there　was　a　vivid　suggestion　of　the　two　elements　in　Passionrapture
and　melancholy。　In　her　dance　she　incarnated　passion　whole　by　conveying
the　two　halves　that　compose　it。　Her　eyes　were　nearly　closed；　as　a
woman　closes　them　when　she　has　seen　the　lips　of　her　lover　descending
upon　hers。　And　her　mouth　seemed　to　be　receiving　the　fiery　touch　of
another　mouth。　In　this　moment　she　was　a　beautiful　woman　because　she
looked　like　womanhood。　And　Domini　understood　why　the　Arabs　thought　her
more　beautiful　than　the　other　dancers。　She　had　what　they　had　not
genius。　And　genius；　under　whatever　form；　shows　to　the　world　at　moments
the　face　of　Aphrodite。

She　came　slowly　nearer；　and　those　by　the　platform　turned　round　to
follow　her　with　their　eyes。　Hadj's　hood　had　slipped　completely　down
over　his　face；　and　his　chin　was　sunk　on　his　chest。　Batouch　noticed　it
and　looked　angry；　but　Domini　had　forgotten　both　the　comedy　of　the　two
cousins　and　the　tragedy　of　Irena's　love　for　Hadj。　She　was　completely
under　the　fascination　of　this　dance　and　of　the　music　that　accompanied
it。　Now　that　Irena　was　near　she　was　able　to　see　that；　without　her
genius；　there　would　have　been　no　beauty　in　her　face。　It　was　painfully
thin；　painfully　long　and　haggard。　Her　life　had　written　a　fatal
inscription　across　it　as　their　life　writes　upon　the　faces　of　poor
street…bred　children　the　one　wordWant。　As　they　have　too　little　this
dancing　woman　had　had　too　much。　The　sparkle　of　her　robe　of　gold　tissue
covered　with　golden　coins　was　strong　in　the　lamplight。　Domini　looked
at　it　and　at　the　two　sharp　knives　above　her　head；　looked　at　her
violent；　shuddering　movements；　and　shuddered　too；　thinking　of
Batouch's　story　of　murdered　dancers。　It　was　dangerous　to　have　too　much
in　Beni…Mora。

Irena　was　quite　close　now。　She　seemed　so　wrapped　in　the　ecstasy　of　the
dance　that　it　did　not　occur　to　Domini　at　first　that　she　was　imitating
the　Ouled　Nail　who　had　laid　her　greasy　head　upon　the　stranger's　knees。
The　abandonment　of　her　performance　was　so　great　that　it　was　difficult
to　remember　its　money　value　to　her　and　to　Tahar；　the　fair　Kabyle。　Only
when　she　was　actually　opposite　to　them　and　stayed　there；　still
performing　her　shuddering　dance；　still　holding　the　daggers　above　her
head；　did　Domini　realise　that　those　half…closed；　passionate　eyes　had
marked　the　stranger　woman；　and　that　she　must　add　one　to　the　stream　of
golden　coins。　She　took　out　her　purse　but　did　not　give　the　money　at
once。　With　the　pitiless　scrutiny　of　her　sex　she　noticed　all　the
dancer's　disabilities。　She　was　certainly　young；　but　she　was　very　worn。
Her　mouth　drooped。　At　the　corners　of　her　eyes　there　were　tiny　lines
tending　downward。　Her　forehead　had　what　Domini　secretly　called　a
martyred　look。　Nevertheless；　she　was　savage　and　triumphant。　Her　thin
body　suggested　force；　the　way　she　held　herself　consuming　passion。　Even
so　near　at　hand；　even　while　she　was　pausing　for　money；　and　while　her
eyes　were；　doubtless；　furtively　reading　Domini；　she　shed　round　her　a
powerful　atmosphere；　which　stirred　the　blood；　and　made　the　heart　leap；
and　created　longing　for　unknown　and　violent　things。　As　Domini　watched
her　she　felt　that　Irena　must　have　lived　at　moments　magnificently；　that
despite　her　almost　shattered　condition　and　permanent　wearinessonly
cast　aside　for　the　moment　of　the　danceshe　must　have　known　intense
joys；　that　so　long　as　she　lived　she　would　possess　the　capacity　for
knowing　them　again。　There　was　something　burning　within　her　that　would
burn　on　so　long　as　she　was　alive；　a　sp