miscuity. No, he said;
he liked to have his models under his hand. Presently, after
loud yawning, the natives went away to sleep, and Strickland
and I were left alone. I cannot describe to you the intense
silence of the night. On my island in the Paumotus there is
never at night the complete stillness that there was here.
There is the rustle of the myriad animals on the beach, all
the little shelled things that crawl about ceaselessly, and
there is the noisy scurrying of the land-crabs. Now and then
in the lagoon you hear the leaping of a fish, and sometimes a
hurried noisy splashing as a brown shark sends all the other
fish scampering for their lives. And above all, ceaseless
like time, is the dull roar of the breakers on the reef.
But here there was not a sound, and the air was scented with the
white flowers of the night. It was a night so beautiful that
your soul seemed hardly able to bear the prison of the body.
You felt that it was ready to be wafted away on the immaterial air,
and death bore all the aspect of a beloved friend."

Tiare sighed.

"Ah, I wish I were fifteen again."

Then she caught sight of a cat trying to get at a dish of
prawns on the kitchen table, and with a dexterous gesture and
a lively volley of abuse flung a book at its scampering tail.

"I asked him if he was happy with Ata.

"'She leaves me alone,' he said. 'She cooks my food and looks
after her babies. She does what I tell her. She gives me
what I want from a woman.'

"'And do you never regret Europe? Do you not yearn sometimes
for the light of the streets in Paris or London, the
companionship of your friends, and equals, <i que sais-je?>
for theatres and newspapers, and the rumble of omnibuses on
the cobbled pavements?'

"For a long time he was silent. Then he said:

"'I shall stay here till I die.'

"'But are you never bored or lonely?' I asked.

"He chuckled.

"'<i Mon pauvre ami>,' he said. 'It is evident that you do
not know what it is to be an artist.'"

Capitaine Brunot turned to me with a gentle smile, and there
was a wonderful look in his dark, kind eyes.

"He did me an injustice, for I too know what it is to have
dreams. I have my visions too. In my way I also am an artist."

We were all silent for a while, and Tiare fished out of her
capacious pocket a handful of cigarettes. She handed one to
each of us, and we all three smoked. At last she said:

"Since <i ce monsieur> is interested in Stri