evening. Are you fond of
fishing?"

"What kind of fishing?"

"Fishing by torchlight."

"Yes, I am particularly fond of it."

"Very well, then, we will go after dinner, and we will come back and
drink sherbet on my roof."

After I had had a bath, he took me to see the charming Kabyle town, a
veritable cascade of white houses toppling down to the sea, and then,
when it was getting dusk, we went in, and after an excellent dinner, we
went down to the quay, and we saw nothing except the fires and the
stars, those large, bright, scintillating African stars. A boat was
waiting for us, and as soon as we had got in, a man whose face I could
not distinguish, began to row, while my friend was getting ready the
brazier which he would light later, and he said to me: "You know I have
a mania for a fish-spear, and nobody can handle it better than I can."

"Allow me to compliment you on your skill." We had rowed round a kind of
mole, and now we were in a small bay full of high rocks, whose shadows
looked like towers built in the water, and I suddenly perceived that the
sea was phosphorescent, and as the oars moved gently, they seemed to
light up moving flames, that followed in our wake, and then died out,
and I leant over the side of the boat and watched it, as we glided over
that glimmer in the darkness.

Where were we going to? I could not see my neighbors; in fact, I could
see nothing but the luminous ripple, and the sparks of water dropping
from the oars; it was hot, very hot, and the darkness seemed as hot as a
furnace, and this mysterious motion with these two men in that silent
boat, had a peculiar effect upon me.

Suddenly the rower stopped. Where were we? I heard a slight scratching
noise close to me, and I saw a hand, nothing but a hand applying a
lighted match to the iron grating which was fastened over the bows of
the boat, which was covered with wood, as if it had been a floating
funeral pile, and which soon was blazing brightly and illuminating the
boat and the two men, an old, thin, pale, wrinkled sailor, with a
pocket-handkerchief tied round his head, instead of a cap, and
Tremoulin, whose fair beard glistened in the light.

The other began to row again, while Tremoulin kept throwing wood onto
the brazier, which burnt red and brightly. I leant over the side again,
and could see the bottom, and a few feet below us there was that strange
country of the water, which vivifies plants and animals, just like the
a