Complete Works

sun shines over there, but I fancy it is the girl Taminah.  She comes down every morning to my brig to sell cakes — stays often all day.  It does not matter; steer more into the bank; we must get under the bushes.  My canoe is hidden not far from here.”
    As he spoke his eyes watched the broad-leaved nipas which they were brushing in their swift and silent course.
    “Look out, Nina,” he said at last; “there, where the water palms end and the twigs hang down under the leaning tree.  Steer for the big green branch.”
    He stood up attentive, and the boat drifted slowly in shore, Nina guiding it by a gentle and skilful movement of her paddle.  When near enough Dain laid hold of the big branch, and leaning back shot the canoe under a low green archway of thickly matted creepers giving access to a miniature bay formed by the caving in of the bank during the last great flood.  His own boat was there anchored by a stone, and he stepped into it, keeping his hand on the gunwale of Nina’s canoe.  In a moment the two little nutshells with their occupants floated quietly side by side, reflected by the black water in the dim light struggling through a high canopy of dense foliage; while above, away up in the broad day, flamed immense red blossoms sending down on their heads a shower of great dew-sparkling petals that descended rotating slowly in a continuous and perfumed stream; and over them, under them, in the sleeping water; all around them in a ring of luxuriant vegetation bathed in the warm air charged with strong and harsh perfumes, the intense work of tropical nature went on: plants shooting upward, entwined, interlaced in inextricable confusion, climbing madly and brutally over each other in the terrible silence of a desperate struggle towards the life-giving sunshine above — as if struck with sudden horror at the seething mass of corruption below, at the death and decay from which they sprang.
    “We must part now,” said Dain, after a long silence.  “You must return at once, Nina.  I will wait till the brig drifts down here, and shall get on board then.”
    “And will you be long away, Dain?” asked Nina, in a low voice.
    “Long!” exclaimed Dain.  “Would a man willingly remain long in a dark place?  When I am not near you, Nina, I am like a man that is blind.  What is life to me without light?”
    Nina leaned over, and with a proud and happy smile took Dain’s face between her hands, looking into his eyes with a fond yet questioning gaze.  Apparently she found there the confirmation of the words just said, for a feeling of grateful security lightened for her the weight of sorrow at the hour of parting.  She believed that he, the descendant of many great Rajahs, the son of a great chief, the master of life and death, knew the sunshine of life only in her presence.  An immense wave of gratitude and love welled forth out of her heart towards him.  How could she make an outward and visible sign of all she felt for the man who had filled her heart with so much joy and so much pride?  And in the great tumult of passion, like a flash of lightning came to her the reminiscence of that despised and almost forgotten civilisation she had only glanced at in her days of restraint, of sorrow, and of anger.  In the cold ashes of that hateful and miserable past she would find the sign of love, the fitting expression of the boundless felicity of the present, the pledge of a bright and splendid future.  She threw her arms around Dain’s neck and pressed her lips to his in a long and burning kiss.  He closed his eyes, surprised and frightened at the storm raised in his breast by the strange and to him hitherto unknown contact, and long after Nina had pushed her canoe into the river he remained motionless, without daring to open his eyes, afraid to lose the sensation of intoxicating delight he had tasted for the first time.
    Now he wanted but immortality, he thought, to be the equal of gods, and the creature that could open so the gates of paradise must be his — soon would be his for ever!
    He opened his eyes in time to see through the archway of creepers the bows of his brig come slowly into view, as the vessel drifted past on its way down the river.  He must go on board now, he thought; yet he was loth to leave the place where he had learned to know what happiness meant.  “Time yet.  Let them go,” he muttered to himself; and he closed his eyes again under the red shower of scented