A man awakened! The toppling of a hundred centuries, indeed.
The other was Signet's. Scarred by leaf shadows, thrust like a swimmer's
from the meager sea of heads and naked shoulders, it held as still as a
death mask, minute by minute, except that, in the penumbra cast by the
veil of goat tuft on his chin, the Adam's apple was convulsed at
intervals, as if he were swallowing, as if the man were _drinking_!
The night grew. The torches were consumed, the "place" deserted.
Somewhere the amazing voyagers had taken themselves to rest. A half moon
mutilated the island--long stripes of palms, shadow scars of defiles,
mottles of bushes. It was like a sleeping animal, a tiger of deep blue
and blue-white, an enormous leopard.
We sat on the veranda at the Residence, the trader and I. By and by,
soft-footed, Signet was there, occupying the lowermost step.
The Dutchman talked. Like the able administrator he was, he had already
all the data to be procured. Into his ears had poured the whispered
trickles of a score of informants.
"You are right, my dear sir. Marquesan. You have been there?"
"No."
"She is called in Polynesian, 'Queen Daughter.' My people, who know
nothing as a rule, of course--but they tell me the woman is in actuality
the daughter of a queen.
Pages:
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529