was as he had expected. The smoky interior
was empty, except for a big chest of sandalwood too heavy for hurried
removal. Its lid was thrown up, but whatever it might have contained was
no longer there. All Wang's possessions were gone. Without tarrying in
the hut, Heyst came back to the girl, who asked no questions, with her
strange air of knowing or understanding everything.

"Let us push on," he said.

He went ahead, the rustle of her white skirt following him into the
shades of the forest, along the path of their usual walk. Though the air
lay heavy between straight denuded trunks, the sunlit patches moved on
the ground, and raising her eyes Lena saw far above her head the
flutter of the leaves, the surface shudder on the mighty limbs extended
horizontally in the perfect immobility of patience. Twice Heyst looked
over his shoulder at her. Behind the readiness of her answering smile
there was a fund of devoted, concentrated passion, burning with the hope
of a more perfect satisfaction. They passed the spot where it was their
practice to turn towards the barren summit of the central hill. Heyst
held steadily on his way towards the upper limit of the forest. The
moment they left its shelter, a breeze enveloped them, and a great
cloud, racing over the sun, threw a peculiar sombre tint over
everything. Heyst pointed up a precipitous, rugged path clinging to the
side of the hill. It ended in a barricade of felled trees, a primitively
conceived obstacle which must have cost much labour to erect at just
that spot.

"This," Heyst, explained in his urbane tone, "is a barrier against the
march of civilization. The poor folk over there did not like it, as it
appeared to them in the shape of my company--a great step forward, as
some people used to call it with mistaken confidence. The advanced foot
has been drawn back, but the barricade remains."

They went on climbing slowly. The cloud had driven over, leaving an
added brightness on the face of the world.

"It's a very ridiculous thing," Heyst went on; "but then it is the
product of honest fear--fear of the unknown, of the incomprehensible.
It's pathetic, too, in a way. And I heartily wish, Lena, that we were on
the other side of it."

"Oh, stop, stop!" she cried, seizing his arm.

The face of the barricade they were approaching had been piled up with a
lot of fresh-cut branches. The leaves were still green. A gentle breeze,
sweeping over the top, stirred them a little;