ed 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 amongst crimson 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 vi