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at them and tear their vague shadows apart; to throw Nina into the smooth water, cling to her close, hold her to the bottom where that man could not find her.  She could not cry, she could not move.  Then footsteps were heard on the bamboo platform above her head; she saw Bulangi get into his smallest canoe and take the lead, the other boat following, paddled by Dain and Nina.  With a slight splash of the paddles dipped stealthily into the water, their indistinct forms passed before her aching eyes and vanished in the darkness of the creek.
    She remained there in the cold and wet, powerless to move, breathing painfully under the crushing weight that the mysterious hand of Fate had laid so suddenly upon her slender shoulders, and shivering, she felt within a burning fire, that seemed to feed upon her very life.  When the breaking day had spread a pale golden ribbon over the black outline of the forests, she took up her tray and departed towards the settlement, going about her task purely from the force of habit.  As she approached Sambir she could see the excitement and she heard with momentary surprise of the finding of Dain’s body.  It was not true, of course.  She knew it well.  She regretted that he was not dead.  She should have liked Dain to be dead, so as to be parted from that woman — from all women.  She felt a strong desire to see Nina, but without any clear object.  She hated her, and feared her and she felt an irresistible impulse pushing her towards Almayer’s house to see the white woman’s face, to look close at those eyes, to hear again that voice, for the sound of which Dain was ready to risk his liberty, his life even.  She had seen her many times; she had heard her voice daily for many months past.  What was there in her?  What was there in that being to make a man speak as Dain had spoken, to make him blind to all other faces, deaf to all other voices?
    She left the crowd by the riverside, and wandered aimlessly among the empty houses, resisting the impulse that pushed her towards Almayer’s campong to seek there in Nina’s eyes the secret of her own misery.  The sun mounting higher, shortened the shadows and poured down upon her a flood of light and of stifling heat as she passed on from shadow to light, from light to shadow, amongst the houses, the bushes, the tall trees, in her unconscious flight from the pain in her own heart.  In the extremity of her distress she could find no words to pray for relief, she knew of no heaven to send her prayer to, and she wandered on with tired feet in the dumb surprise and terror at the injustice of the suffering inflicted upon her without cause and without redress.
    The short talk with Reshid, the proposal of Abdulla steadied her a little and turned her thoughts into another channel.  Dain was in some danger.  He was hiding from white men.  So much she had overheard last night.  They all thought him dead.  She knew he was alive, and she knew of his hiding-place.  What did the Arabs want to know about the white men?  The white men want with Dain?  Did they wish to kill him?  She could tell them all — no, she would say nothing, and in the night she would go to him and sell him his life for a word, for a smile, for a gesture even, and be his slave in far-off countries, away from Nina.  But there were dangers.  The one-eyed Babalatchi who knew everything; the white man’s wife — she was a witch.  Perhaps they would tell.  And then there was Nina.  She must hurry on and see.
    In her impatience she left the path and ran towards Almayer’s dwelling through the undergrowth between the palm trees.  She came out at the back of the house, where a narrow ditch, full of stagnant water that overflowed from the river, separated Almayer’s campong from the rest of the settlement.  The thick bushes growing on the bank were hiding from her sight the large courtyard with its cooking shed.  Above them rose several thin columns of smoke, and from behind the sound of strange voices informed Taminah that the Men of the Sea belonging to the warship had already landed and were camped between the ditch and the house.  To the left one of Almayer’s slave-girls came down to the ditch and bent over the shiny water, washing a kettle.  To the right the tops of the banana plantation, visible above the bushes, swayed and shook under the touch of invisible hands gathering the fruit.  On the calm water several canoes moored to a heavy stake