“The desert has made me an enfant terrible, I fear.  What have you there?”

His eyes had been attracted by the flask of liqueur, to which Domini was stretching out her hand with the intention of giving him some.

“I don’t know.”

She leaned forward to read the name on the flask.

“L o u a r i n e,” she said.

“Pst!” exclaimed the priest, with a start.

“Will you have some?  I don’t know whether it’s good.  I’ve never tasted it, or seen it before.  Will you have some?”

She felt so absolutely certain that he would say “Yes” that she lifted the flask to pour the liqueur into one of the little glasses, but, looking at him, she saw that he hesitated.

“After all—­why not?” he ejaculated.  “Why not?”

She was holding the flask over the glass.  He saw that his remark surprised her.

“Yes, Madame, thanks.”

She poured out the liqueur and handed it to him.  He set it down by his coffee-cup.

“The fact is, Madame—­but you know nothing about this liqueur?”

“No, nothing.  What is it?”

Her curiosity was roused by his hesitation, his words, but still more by a certain gravity which had come into his face.

“Well, this liqueur comes from the Trappist monastery of El-Largani.”

“The monks’ liqueur!” she exclaimed.

And instantly she thought of Mogar.

“You do know then?”

“Ouardi told me we had with us a liqueur made by some monks.”

“This is it, and very excellent it is.  I have tasted it in Tunis.”

“But then why did you hesitate to take it here?”

He lifted his glass up to the lamp.  The light shone on its contents, showing that the liquid was pale green.

“Madame,” he said, “the Trappists of El-Largani have a fine property.  They grow every sort of things, but their vineyards are specially famous, and their wines bring in a splendid revenue.  This is their only liqueur, this Louarine.  It, too, has brought in a lot of money to the community, but when what they have in stock at the monastery now is exhausted they will never make another franc by Louarine.”

“But why not?”

“The secret of its manufacture belonged to one monk only.  At his death he was to confide it to another whom he had chosen.”

“And he died suddenly without—­”

“Madame, he didn’t die.”

The gravity had returned to the priest’s face and deepened there, transforming it.  He put the glass down without touching it with his lips.

“Then—­I don’t understand.”

“He disappeared from the monastery.”

“Do you mean he left it—­a Trappist?”

“Yes.”

“After taking the final vows?”

“Oh, he had been a monk at El-Largani for over twenty years.”

“How horrible!” Domini said.  She looked at the pale-green liquid.  “How horrible!” she repeated.