"What the devil do you want?" exclaimed Willems, looking towards

the river. "Where's that damned boat? Why did you let them go
away? You stupid!"

"Oh, Peter!--I know that in your heart you have forgiven" target="_blank" title="forgive的过去分词">forgiven me--You
are so generous--I want to hear you say so. . . . Tell me--do

you?"
"Yes! yes!" said Willems, impatiently. "I forgive you. Don't be

a fool."
"Don't go away. Don't leave me alone here. Where is the danger?

I am so frightened. . . . Are you alone here? Sure? . . . Let
us go away!"

"That's sense," said Willems, still looking anxiously towards the
river.

She sobbed gently, leaning on his arm.
"Let me go," he said.

He had seen above the steep bank the heads of three men glide
along smoothly. Then, where the shore shelved down to the

landing-place, appeared a big canoe which came slowly to land.
"Here they are," he went on, briskly. "I must get my revolver."

He made a few hurried paces towards the house, but seemed to
catch sight of something, turned short round and came back to his

wife. She stared at him, alarmed by the sudden change in his
face. He appeared much discomposed. He stammered a little as he

began to speak.
"Take the child. Walk down to the boat and tell them to drop it

out of sight, quick, behind the bushes. Do you hear? Quick! I
will come to you there directly. Hurry up!"

"Peter! What is it? I won't leave you. There is some danger in
this horrible place."

"Will you do what I tell you?" said Willems, in an irritable
whisper.

"No! no! no! I won't leave you. I will not lose you again.
Tell me, what is it?"

From beyond the house came a faint voice singing. Willems shook
his wife by the shoulder.

"Do what I tell you! Run at once!"
She gripped his arm and clung to him desperately. He looked up to

heaven as if taking it to witness of that woman's infernal folly.
The song grew louder, then ceased suddenly, and Aissa appeared in

sight, walking slowly, her hands full of flowers.
She had turned the corner of the house, coming out into the full

sunshine, and the light seemed to leap upon her in a stream
brilliant, tender, and caressing, as if attracted by the radiant

happiness of her face. She had dressed herself for a festive
day, for the memorable day of his return to her, of his return to

an affection that would last for ever. The rays of the morning
sun were caught by the oval clasp of the embroidered belt that

held the silk sarong round her waist. The dazzling white stuff
of her body jacket was crossed by a bar of yellow and silver of

her scarf, and in the black hair twisted high on her small head
shone the round balls of gold pins amongstcrimson blossoms and

white star-shaped flowers, with which she had crowned herself to
charm his eyes; those eyes that were henceforth to see nothing in

the world but her own resplendent image. And she moved slowly,
bending her face over the mass of pure white champakas and

jasmine pressed to her breast, in a dreamy intoxication of sweet
scents and of sweeter hopes.

She did not seem to see anything, stopped for a moment at the
foot of the plankway leading to the house, then, leaving her

high-heeled wooden sandals there, ascended the planks in a light
run; straight, graceful, flexible, and noiseless, as if she had

soared up to the door on invisible wings. Willems pushed his
wife roughly behind the tree, and made up his mind quickly for a

rush to the house, to grab his revolver and . . . Thoughts,
doubts, expedients seemed to boil in his brain. He had a

flashing vision of delivering a stunning blow, of tying up that
flower bedecked woman in the dark house--a vision of things done

swiftly with enraged haste--to save his prestige, his
superiority--something of immense importance. . . . He had not

made two steps when Joanna bounded after him, caught the back of
his raggedjacket, tore out a big piece, and instantly hooked

herself with both hands to the collar, nearly dragging him down
on his back. Although taken by surprise, he managed to keep his

feet. From behind she panted into his ear--
"That woman! Who's that woman? Ah! that's what those boatmen

were talking about. I heard them . . . heard them . . . heard .
. . in the night. They spoke about some woman. I dared not

understand. I would not ask . . . listen . . . believe! How
could I? Then it's true. No. Say no. . . . Who's that woman?"

He swayed, tugging forward. She jerked at him till the button
gave way, and then he slipped half out of his jacket and, turning

round, remained strangelymotionless. His heart seemed to beat
in his throat. He choked--tried to speak--could not find any

words. He thought with fury: I will kill both of them.
For a second nothing moved about the courtyard in the great vivid

clearness of the day. Only down by the landing-place a
waringan-tree, all in a blaze of clustering red berries, seemed

alive with the stir of little birds that filled with the feverish
flutter of their feathers the tangle of overloaded branches.

Suddenly the variegated flock rose spinning in a soft whirr and
dispersed, slashing the sunlit haze with the sharp outlines of

stiffened wings. Mahmat and one of his brothers appeared coming
up from the landing-place, their lances in their hands, to look

for their passengers.
Aissa coming now empty-handed out of the house, caught sight of

the two armed men. In her surprise she emitted a faint cry,
vanished back and in a flash reappeared in the doorway with

Willems' revolver in her hand. To her the presence of any man
there could only have an ominous meaning. There was nothing in

the outer world but enemies. She and the man she loved were
alone, with nothing round them but menacing dangers. She did not

mind that, for if death came, no matter from what hand, they
would die together.

Her resolute eyes took in the courtyard in a circular glance.
She noticed that the two strangers had ceased to advance and now

were standing close together leaning on the polished shafts of
their weapons. The next moment she saw Willems, with his back

towards her, apparently struggling under the tree with some one.
She saw nothing distinctly, and, unhesitating, flew down the

plankway calling out: "I come!"
He heard her cry, and with an unexpected rush drove his wife

backwards to the seat. She fell on it; he jerked himself
altogether out of his jacket, and she covered her face with the

soiled rags. He put his lips close to her, asking--
"For the last time, will you take the child and go?"

She groaned behind the unclean ruins of his upper garment. She
mumbled something. He bent lower to hear. She was saying--

"I won't. Order that woman away. I can't look at her!"
"You fool!"

He seemed to spit the words at her, then, making up his mind,
spun round to face Aissa. She was coming towards them slowly

now, with a look of unbounded amazement on her face. Then she
stopped and stared at him--who stood there, stripped to the

waist, bare-headed and sombre.
Some way off, Mahmat and his brother exchanged rapid words in

calm undertones. . . . This was the strong daughter of the holy
man who had died. The white man is very tall. There would be