hut in with a fine lattice-work of vegetable
fibres, so as to prevent the reptiles and venomous insects from creeping
into the ajoupa. The huge trunk of a dead tree, still standing, but much
bent, and with its summit reaching to the roof of the ajoupa, rises from
the midst of the brushwood. From every crevice in its black, rugged,
mossy bark, springs a strange, almost fantastic flower; the wing of a
butterfly is not of a finer tissue, of a more brilliant purple, of a
more glossy black: those unknown birds we see in our dreams, have no
more grotesque forms than these specimens of the orchis--winged flowers,
that seem always ready to fly from their frail and leafless stalks. The
long, flexible stems of the cactus, which might be taken for reptiles,
encircle also this trunk, and clothe it with their bunches of silvery
white, shaded inside with bright orange. These flowers emit a strong
scent of vanilla.

A serpent, of a brick-red, about the thickness of a large quill, and
five or six inches long, half protrudes its flat head from one of those
enormous, perfumed calyces, in which it lies closely curled up.

Within the ajoupa, a young man is extended on a mat in a profound sleep.
His complexion of a clear golden yellow, gives him the appearance of a
statue of pale bronze, on which a ray of sun is playing. His attitude
is simple and graceful; his right arm sustains his head, a little raised
and turned on one side; his ample robe of white muslin, with hanging
sleeves, leaves uncovered his chest and arms worthy of the Antoinous.
Marble is not more firm, more polished than his skin, the golden hue of
which contracts strongly with the whiteness of his garments. Upon his
broad manly chest a deep scar is visible--the mark of the musket-ball he
received in defending the life of General Simon, the father of Rose and
Blanche.

Suspended from his neck, he wears a medal similar to that in the
possession of the two sisters. This Indian is Djalma.

His features are at once very noble and very beautiful. His hair of a
blue black, parted upon his forehead, falls waving, but not curled over
his shoulders; whilst his eyebrows, boldly and yet delicately defined,
are of as deep a jet as the long eyelashes, that cast their shadow upon
his beardless cheek. His bright, red lips are slightly apart, and he
breathes uneasily; his sleep is heavy and troubled, for the heat becomes
every moment more and more suffocating.

Without, the silence is pr