noon
She thought of the silent night when the voice of the African hautboy had died away . His step had broken its silence . She thought of the garden of Count Anteoni , and of herself kneeling on the hot sand with her arms on the white parapet and gazing out over the regions of the sun , of her dream upon the tower , of her vision when Irena danced . He was there , part of the noon , part of the twilight , chief surely of the worshippers who swept on in the pale procession that received gifts from the desert 's hands . She could no longer imagine the desert without him . The almost painful feeling that had come to her in the garden -- of the human power to distract her attention from the desert power -- was dying , perhaps had completely died away . Another feeling was surely coming to replace it ; that Androvsky belonged to the desert more even than the Arabs did , that the desert spirits were close about him , clasping his hands , whispering in his ears , and laying their unseen hands about his heart .