t leave my dollars
behind," muttered Mrs. Almayer.

They separated. Babalatchi crossed the courtyard towards the creek to
get his canoe, and Mrs. Almayer walked slowly to the house, ascended the
plankway, and passing through the back verandah entered the passage
leading to the front of the house; but before going in she turned in the
doorway and looked back at the empty and silent courtyard, now lit up by
the rays of the rising moon. No sooner she had disappeared, however,
than a vague shape flitted out from amongst the stalks of the banana
plantation, darted over the moonlit space, and fell in the darkness at
the foot of the verandah. It might have been the shadow of a driving
cloud, so noiseless and rapid was its passage, but for the trail of
disturbed grass, whose feathery heads trembled and swayed for a long time
in the moonlight before they rested motionless and gleaming, like a
design of silver sprays embroidered on a sombre background.

Mrs. Almayer lighted the cocoanut lamp, and lifting cautiously the red
curtain, gazed upon her husband, shading the light with her hand.

Almayer, huddled up in the chair, one of his arms hanging down, the other
thrown across the lower part of his face as if to ward off an invisible
enemy, his legs stretched straight out, slept heavily, unconscious of the
unfriendly eyes that looked upon him in disparaging criticism. At his
feet lay the overturned table, amongst a wreck of crockery and broken
bottles. The appearance as of traces left by a desperate struggle was
accentuated by the chairs, which seemed to have been scattered violently
all over the place, and now lay about the verandah with a lamentable
aspect of inebriety in their helpless attitudes. Only Nina's big rocking-
chair, standing black and motionless on its high runners, towered above
the chaos of demoralised furniture, unflinchingly dignified and patient,
waiting for its burden.

With a last scornful look towards the sleeper, Mrs. Almayer passed behind
the curtain into her own room. A couple of bats, encouraged by the
darkness and the peaceful state of affairs, resumed their silent and
oblique gambols above Almayer's head, and for a long time the profound
quiet of the house was unbroken, save for the deep breathing of the
sleeping man and the faint tinkle of silver in the hands of the woman
preparing for flight. In the increasing light of the moon that had risen
now above the night mist, the objects on the ver