l the words spoken between you and Syed Abdulla."

Tell what? What words? Her voice recalled back the consciousness that
had departed under her touch, and he became aware of the passing minutes
every one of which was like a reproach; of those minutes that falling,
slow, reluctant, irresistible into the past, marked his footsteps on the
way to perdition. Not that he had any conviction about it, any notion of
the possible ending on that painful road. It was an indistinct feeling,
a threat of suffering like the confused warning of coming disease,
an inarticulate monition of evil made up of fear and pleasure, of
resignation and of revolt. He was ashamed of his state of mind. After
all, what was he afraid of? Were those scruples? Why that hesitation to
think, to speak of what he intended doing? Scruples were for imbeciles.
His clear duty was to make himself happy. Did he ever take an oath of
fidelity to Lingard? No. Well then--he would not let any interest of
that old fool stand between Willems and Willems' happiness. Happiness?
Was he not, perchance, on a false track? Happiness meant money. Much
money. At least he had always thought so till he had experienced those
new sensations which . . .

Aissa's question, repeated impatiently, interrupted his musings, and
looking up at her face shining above him in the dim light of the fire
he stretched his limbs luxuriously and obedient to her desire, he spoke
slowly and hardly above his breath. She, with her head close to his
lips, listened absorbed, interested, in attentive immobility. The many
noises of the great courtyard were hushed up gradually by the sleep that
stilled all voices and closed all eyes. Then somebody droned out a song
with a nasal drawl at the end of every verse. He stirred. She put her
hand suddenly on his lips and sat upright. There was a feeble coughing,
a rustle of leaves, and then a complete silence took possession of the
land; a silence cold, mournful, profound; more like death than peace;
more hard to bear than the fiercest tumult. As soon as she removed her
hand he hastened to speak, so insupportable to him was that stillness
perfect and absolute in which his thoughts seemed to ring with the
loudness of shouts.

"Who was there making that noise?" he asked.

"I do not know. He is gone now," she answered, hastily. "Tell me, you
will not return to your people; not without me. Not with me. Do you
promise?"

"I have promised already. I have no people of my