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three women and the child to take in the boat, besides that white

man who had the money. . . . The brother went away back to the



boat, and Mahmat remained looking on. He stood like a sentinel,

the leaf-shaped blade of his lance glinting above his head.



Willems spoke suddenly.

"Give me this," he said, stretching his hand towards the



revolver.

Aissa stepped back. Her lips trembled. She said very low:



"Your people?"

He nodded slightly. She shook her head thoughtfully, and a few



delicate petals of the flowers dying in her hair fell like big

drops of crimson and white at her feet.



"Did you know?" she whispered.

"No!" said Willems. "They sent for me."



"Tell them to depart. They are accursed. What is there between

them and you--and you who carry my life in your heart!"



Willems said nothing. He stood before her looking down on the

ground and repeating to himself: I must get that revolver away



from her, at once, at once. I can't think of trusting myself with

those men without firearms. I must have it.



She asked, after gazing in silence at Joanna, who was sobbing

gently--



"Who is she?"

"My wife," answered Willems, without looking up. "My wife



according to our white law, which comes from God!"

"Your law! Your God!" murmured Aissa, contemptuously.



"Give me this revolver," said Willems, in a peremptory tone. He

felt an unwillingness to close with her, to get it by force.



She took no notice and went on--

"Your law . . . or your lies? What am I to believe? I came--I



ran to defend you when I saw the strange men. You lied to me

with your lips, with your eyes. You crooked heart! . . . Ah!"



she added, after an abrupt pause. "She is the first! Am I then

to be a slave?"



"You may be what you like," said Willems, brutally. "I am

going."



Her gaze was fastened on the blanket under which she had detected

a slight movement. She made a long stride towards it. Willems



turned half round. His legs seemed to him to be made of lead.

He felt faint and so weak that, for a moment, the fear of dying



there where he stood, before he could escape from sin and

disaster, passed through his mind in a wave of despair.



She lifted up one corner of the blanket, and when she saw the

sleeping child a sudden quick shudder shook her as though she had



seen something inexpressibly horrible. She looked at Louis

Willems with eyes fixed in an unbelieving and terrified stare.



Then her fingers opened slowly, and a shadow seemed to settle on

her face as if something obscure and fatal had come between her



and the sunshine. She stood looking down, absorbed, as though

she had watched at the bottom of a gloomy abyss the mournful



procession of her thoughts.

Willems did not move. All his faculties were concentrated upon



the idea of his release. And it was only then that the assurance

of it came to him with such force that he seemed to hear a loud



voice shouting in the heavens that all was over, that in another

five, ten minutes, he would step into another existence; that all



this, the woman, the madness, the sin, the regrets, all would go,

rush into the past, disappear, become as dust, as smoke, as



drifting clouds--as nothing! Yes! All would vanish in the

unappeasable past which would swallow up all--even the very



memory of his temptation and of his downfall. Nothing mattered.

He cared for nothing. He had forgotten Aissa, his wife, Lingard,



Hudig--everybody, in the rapid vision of his hopeful future.

After a while he heard Aissa saying--



"A child! A child! What have I done to be made to devour this

sorrow and this grief? And while your man-child and the mother



lived you told me there was nothing for you to remember in the

land from which you came! And I thought you could be mine. I



thought that I would . . ."

Her voice ceased in a broken murmur, and with it, in her heart,



seemed to die the greater and most precious hope of her new life.

She had hoped that in the future the frail arms of a child would



bind their two lives together in a bond which nothing on earth

could break, a bond of affection, of gratitude, of tender






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