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of angry reproaches addressed to herself.  And when the sun was near its setting she walked to the bathing-place and heard it as she stood on the tender grass of the low bank, her robe at her feet, and looked at the reflection of her figure on the glass-like surface of the creek.  Listening to it she walked slowly back, her wet hair hanging over her shoulders; laying down to rest under the bright stars, she closed her eyes to the murmur of the water below, of the warm wind above; to the voice of nature speaking through the faint noises of the great forest, and to the song of her own heart.
    She heard, but did not understand, and drank in the dreamy joy of her new existence without troubling about its meaning or its end, till the full consciousness of life came to her through pain and anger.  And she suffered horribly the first time she saw Nina’s long canoe drift silently past the sleeping house of Bulangi, bearing the two lovers into the white mist of the great river.  Her jealousy and rage culminated into a paroxysm of physical pain that left her lying panting on the river bank, in the dumb agony of a wounded animal.  But she went on moving patiently in the enchanted circle of slavery, going through her task day after day with all the pathos of the grief she could not express, even to herself, locked within her breast.  She shrank from Nina as she would have shrunk from the sharp blade of a knife cutting into her flesh, but she kept on visiting the brig to feed her dumb, ignorant soul on her own despair.  She saw Dain many times.  He never spoke, he never looked.  Could his eyes see only one woman’s image?  Could his ears hear only one woman’s voice?  He never noticed her; not once.
    And then he went away.  She saw him and Nina for the last time on that morning when Babalatchi, while visiting his fish baskets, had his suspicions of the white man’s daughter’s love affair with Dain confirmed beyond the shadow of doubt.  Dain disappeared, and Taminah’s heart, where lay useless and barren the seeds of all love and of all hate, the possibilities of all passions and of all sacrifices, forgot its joys and its sufferings when deprived of the help of the senses.  Her half-formed, savage mind, the slave of her body — as her body was the slave of another’s will — forgot the faint and vague image of the ideal that had found its beginning in the physical promptings of her savage nature.  She dropped back into the torpor of her former life and found consolation — even a certain kind of happiness — in the thought that now Nina and Dain were separated, probably for ever.  He would forget.  This thought soothed the last pangs of dying jealousy that had nothing now to feed upon, and Taminah found peace.  It was like the dreary tranquillity of a desert, where there is peace only because there is no life.
    And now he had returned.  She had recognised his voice calling aloud in the night for Bulangi.  She had crept out after her master to listen closer to the intoxicating sound.  Dain was there, in a boat, talking to Bulangi.  Taminah, listening with arrested breath, heard another voice.  The maddening joy, that only a second before she thought herself incapable of containing within her fast-beating heart, died out, and left her shivering in the old anguish of physical pain that she had suffered once before at the sight of Dain and Nina.  Nina spoke now, ordering and entreating in turns, and Bulangi was refusing, expostulating, at last consenting.  He went in to take a paddle from the heap lying behind the door.  Outside the murmur of two voices went on, and she caught a word here and there.  She understood that he was fleeing from white men, that he was seeking a hiding-place, that he was in some danger.  But she heard also words which woke the rage of jealousy that had been asleep for so many days in her bosom.  Crouching low on the mud in the black darkness amongst the piles, she heard the whisper in the boat that made light of toil, of privation, of danger, of life itself, if in exchange there could be but a short moment of close embrace, a look from the eyes, the feel of light breath, the touch of soft lips.  So spoke Dain as he sat in the canoe holding Nina’s hands while waiting for Bulangi’s return; and Taminah, supporting herself by the slimy pile, felt as if a heavy weight was crushing her down, down into the black oily water at her feet.  She wanted to cry out; to rush