derstand your gesture, unless it signifies that you are as deaf and
dumb and as stupid as that tree."

Without responding to this, the Caribbean stooped, took the trunk of the
tree in his muscular arms, and threw it into the lake with a significant
gesture, which seemed to say, "That is how I could treat you." Then he
slowly withdrew, without having revealed in his features the slightest
emotion.

The chevalier was stupefied by this proof of extraordinary strength; for
the block of mahogany tree appeared to him, and in fact was, so heavy
that two men could with difficulty have accomplished what the Caribbean
unaided had done. His surprise having passed, the chevalier hastened
after the savage, exclaiming, "Do you mean to say that you would have
thrown me into the lake as you threw that trunk?"

The Caribbean, without pausing in his passage, bent his head
affirmatively.

"After all," thought Croustillac, halting, "this eater of missionaries
is not lacking in good sense; I threatened him first with throwing him
into the water, and after what I have seen I am obliged to confess that
I should have found it hard to do so, and then it would have been rather
a dishonorable way in which to dispose of a rival! Ah, the evening is
slow in coming. Thank God! the sun is setting, the night will soon fall;
the moon will rise and I shall know my fate; the widow will tell me
everything, I shall unravel all the profound mystery which is hidden
from me now. Let me think over the sonnet which I have reserved for a
grand effect--it is intended to describe the beauty of her eyes. Perhaps
she has never heard a sonnet--possibly she will be sensible of its
beauty and spirit; but no, I cannot hope for that happiness."

Pacing the path with long strides, Croustillac began to declaim his
verses:

"They are not eyes, they are two gods,
Which are robed in power complete.
Gods? nay, they are the heavens----"

The adventurer was not to finish his verse, for Mirette came to inform
him that her mistress was awaiting him at supper. The Caribbean never
partook of this meal, and Croustillac was to be alone with the widow.
She seemed dreamy and said little; she started involuntarily and
frequently.

"What troubles you, madame?" said Croustillac, also preoccupied.

"I do not know; strange presentiments, but I am foolish. It is your
gloomy face that gives me the blues," she added, with a forced smile.
"Come, amuse me a little, chevalie