within the tides-第15部分

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smooth　trunk　had　abandoned　himself　to　a　sense　of　an　immense



deception　and　the　feeling　of　extreme　fatigue。　　This　walk　up　the



hill　and　down　again　was　like　the　supreme　effort　of　an　explorer



trying　to　penetrate　the　interior　of　an　unknown　country；　the　secret



of　which　is　too　well　defended　by　its　cruel　and　barren　nature。



Decoyed　by　a　mirage；　he　had　gone　too　far　…　so　far　that　there　was　no



going　back。　　His　strength　was　at　an　end。　　For　the　first　time　in　his



life　he　had　to　give　up；　and　with　a　sort　of　despairing　self…



possession　he　tried　to　understand　the　cause　of　the　defeat。　　He　did



not　ascribe　it　to　that　absurd　dead　man。







The　hesitating　shadow　of　Luiz　approached　him　unnoticed　till　it



spoke　timidly。　　Renouard　started。







〃Eh？　　What？　　Dinner　waiting？　　You　must　say　I　beg　to　be　excused。　　I



can't　come。　　But　I　shall　see　them　to…morrow　morning；　at　the　landing



place。　　Take　your　orders　from　the　professor　as　to　the　sailing　of



the　schooner。　　Go　now。〃







Luiz；　dumbfounded；　retreated　into　the　darkness。　　Renouard　did　not



move；　but　hours　afterwards；　like　the　bitter　fruit　of　his



immobility；　the　words：　　〃I　had　nothing　to　offer　to　her　vanity；〃



came　from　his　lips　in　the　silence　of　the　island。　　And　it　was　then



only　that　he　stirred；　only　to　wear　the　night　out　in　restless



tramping　up　and　down　the　various　paths　of　the　plantation。　　Luiz；



whose　sleep　was　made　light　by　the　consciousness　of　some　impending



change；　heard　footsteps　passing　by　his　hut；　the　firm　tread　of　the



master；　and　turning　on　his　mats　emitted　a　faint　Tse！　Tse！　Tse！　of



deep　concern。







Lights　had　been　burning　in　the　bungalow　almost　all　through　the



night；　and　with　the　first　sign　of　day　began　the　bustle　of



departure。　　House　boys　walked　processionally　carrying　suit…cases



and　dressing…bags　down　to　the　schooner's　boat；　which　came　to　the



landing　place　at　the　bottom　of　the　garden。　　Just　as　the　rising　sun



threw　its　golden　nimbus　around　the　purple　shape　of　the　headland；



the　Planter　of　Malata　was　perceived　pacing　bare…headed　the　curve　of



the　little　bay。　　He　exchanged　a　few　words　with　the　sailing…master



of　the　schooner；　then　remained　by　the　boat；　standing　very　upright；



his　eyes　on　the　ground；　waiting。







He　had　not　long　to　wait。　　Into　the　cool；　overshadowed　garden　the



professor　descended　first；　and　came　jauntily　down　the　path　in　a



lively　cracking　of　small　shells。　　With　his　closed　parasol　hooked　on



his　forearm；　and　a　book　in　his　hand；　he　resembled　a　banal　tourist



more　than　was　permissible　to　a　man　of　his　unique　distinction。　　He



waved　the　disengaged　arm　from　a　distance；　but　at　close　quarters；



arrested　before　Renouard's　immobility；　he　made　no　offer　to　shake



hands。　　He　seemed　to　appraise　the　aspect　of　the　man　with　a　sharp



glance；　and　made　up　his　mind。







〃We　are　going　back　by　Suez；〃　he　began　almost　boisterously。　　〃I　have



been　looking　up　the　sailing　lists。　　If　the　zephirs　of　your　Pacific



are　only　moderately　propitious　I　think　we　are　sure　to　catch　the



mail　boat　due　in　Marseilles　on　the　18th　of　March。　　This　will　suit



me　excellently。　。　。　。〃　　He　lowered　his　tone。　　〃My　dear　young



friend；　I'm　deeply　grateful　to　you。〃







Renouard's　set　lips　moved。







〃Why　are　you　grateful　to　me？〃







〃Ah！　　Why？　　In　the　first　place　you　might　have　made　us　miss　the　next



boat；　mightn't　you？　。　。　。　I　don't　thank　you　for　your　hospitality。



You　can't　be　angry　with　me　for　saying　that　I　am　truly　thankful　to



escape　from　it。　　But　I　am　grateful　to　you　for　what　you　have　done；



and　…　for　being　what　you　are。〃







It　was　difficult　to　define　the　flavour　of　that　speech；　but　Renouard



received　it　with　an　austerely　equivocal　smile。　　The　professor



stepping　into　the　boat　opened　his　parasol　and　sat　down　in　the



stern…sheets　waiting　for　the　ladies。　　No　sound　of　human　voice　broke



the　fresh　silence　of　the　morning　while　they　walked　the　broad　path；



Miss　Moorsom　a　little　in　advance　of　her　aunt。







When　she　came　abreast　of　him　Renouard　raised　his　head。







〃Good…bye；　Mr。　Renouard；〃　she　said　in　a　low　voice；　meaning　to　pass



on；　but　there　was　such　a　look　of　entreaty　in　the　blue　gleam　of　his



sunken　eyes　that　after　an　imperceptible　hesitation　she　laid　her



hand；　which　was　ungloved；　in　his　extended　palm。







〃Will　you　condescend　to　remember　me？〃　he　asked；　while　an　emotion



with　which　she　was　angry　made　her　pale　cheeks　flush　and　her　black



eyes　sparkle。







〃This　is　a　strange　request　for　you　to　make；〃　she　said　exaggerating



the　coldness　of　her　tone。







〃Is　it？　　Impudent　perhaps。　　Yet　I　am　not　so　guilty　as　you　think；



and　bear　in　mind　that　to　me　you　can　never　make　reparation。〃







〃Reparation？　　To　you！　　It　is　you　who　can　offer　me　no　reparation　for



the　offence　against　my　feelings　…　and　my　person；　for　what



reparation　can　be　adequate　for　your　odious　and　ridiculous　plot　so



scornful　in　its　implication；　so　humiliating　to　my　pride。　　No！　　I



don't　want　to　remember　you。〃







Unexpectedly；　with　a　tightening　grip；　he　pulled　her　nearer　to　him；



and　looking　into　her　eyes　with　fearless　despair　…







〃You'll　have　to。　　I　shall　haunt　you；〃　he　said　firmly。







Her　hand　was　wrenched　out　of　his　grasp　before　he　had　time　to



release　it。　　Felicia　Moorsom　stepped　into　the　boat；　sat　down　by　the



side　of　her　father；　and　breathed　tenderly　on　her　crushed　fingers。







The　professor　gave　her　a　sidelong　look　…　nothing　more。　　But　the



professor's　sister；　yet　on　shore；　had　put　up　her　long…handle　double



eye…glass　to　look　at　the　scene。　　She　dropped　it　with　a　faint



rattle。







〃I've　never　in　my　life　heard　anything　so　crude　said　to　a　lady；〃　she



murmured；　passing　before　Renouard　with　a　perfectly　erect　head。



When；　a　moment　afterwards；　softening　suddenly；　she　turned　to　throw



a　good…bye　to　that　young　man；　she　saw　only　his　back　in　the　distance



moving　towards　the　bungalow。　　She　watched　him　go　in　…　amazed　…



before　she　too　left　the　soil　of　Malata。







Nobody　disturbed　Renouard　in　that　room　where　he　had　shut　himself　in



to　breathe　the　evanescent　perfume　of　her　who　for　him　was　no　more；



till　late　in　the　afternoon　when　the　half…caste　was　heard　on　the



other　side　of　the　door。







He　wanted　the　master　to　know　that　the　trader　Janet　was　just



entering　the　cove。







Renouard's　strong　voice　on　his　side　of　the　door　gave　him　most



unexpected　instructions。　　He　was　to　pay　off　the　boys　with　the　cash



in　the　office　and　arrange　with　the　captain　of　the　Janet　to　take



every　worker　away　from　Malata；　returning　them　to　their　respective



homes。　　An　order　on　the　Dunster　firm　would　be　given　to　him　in



payment。







And　again　the　silence　of　the　bungalow　remained　unbroken　till；　next



morning；　the　half…caste　came　to　report　that　everything　was　done。



The　plantation　boys　were　embarking　now。







Through　a　crack　in　the　door　a　hand　thrust　at　him　a　piece　of　paper；



and　the　door　slammed　to　so　sharply　that　Luiz　stepped　back。　　Then



approaching　cringingly　the　keyhole；　in　a　propitiatory　tone　he



asked：







〃Do　I　go　too；　master？〃







〃Yes。　　You　too。　　Everybody。〃







〃Master　stop　here　alone？〃







Silence。　　And　the　half…caste's　eyes　grew　wide　with　wonder。　　But　he



also；　like　those　〃ignorant　savages；〃　the　plantation　boys；　was　only



too　glad　to　leave　an　island　haunted　by　the　ghost　of　a　white　man。



He　backed　away　noiselessly　from　the　mysterious　silence　in　the



closed　room；　and　only　in　the　very　doorway　of　the　bungalow　allowed



himself　to　give　vent　to　his　feelings　by　a　deprecatory　and　pained　…







〃Tse！　　Tse！　　Tse！〃















CHAPTER　XII















The　Moorsoms　did　manage　to　catch　the　homeward　mail　boat　all　right；



but　had　only　twenty…four　hours　in　town。　　Thus　the　sentimental



Willie　could　not　see　very　much　of　them。　　This　did　not　prevent　him



afterwards　from　relating　at　great　length；　with　manly　tears　in　his



eyes；　how　poor　Miss　Moorsom　…　the　fashionable　and　clever　beauty　…



found　her　betrothed　in　Malata　only　to　see　him　die　in　her　arms。



Most　people　were　deeply　touched　by　the　sad　story。　　It　was　the　talk



of　a　good　many　days。







But　the　all…knowing　Editor；　Renouard's　only　friend　and　crony；



wanted　to　know　more　than　the　rest　of　the　world。　　From　professional



incontinence；　perhaps；　he　thirsted　for　a　full　cup　of　harrowing



detail。　　And　when　he　noticed　Renouard's　schooner　lying　in　port　day



after　day　he　sought　the　sailing　master　to　learn　the　reason。　　The



man　told　him　that　such　were　his　instructions。　　He　had　been　ordered



to　lie　there　a　month　before　returning　to　Malata。　　And　the　month　was



nearly　up。　　〃I　will　ask　you　to　give　me　a　passage；〃　said　the　Editor。







He　landed　in　the　morning　at　the　bottom　of　the　garden　and　found



peace；　stillness；　sunshine　reigning　everywhere；　the　doors　and



windows　of　the　bungalow　standing　wide　open；　no　sight　of　a　human



being　anywhere；　the　plants　growing　rank　and　tall　on　the　deserted



fields。　　For　hours　the　Editor　and　the　schooner's　crew；　excited　by



the　mystery；　roamed　over　the　island　shouting　Renouard's　name；　and



at　last　set　themselves　in　grim　silence　to　explore　systematically



the　uncleared　bush　and　the　deeper　ravines　in　search　of　his　corpse。



What　had　happened？　　Had　he　been　murdered　by　the　boys？　　Or　had　he



simply；　capricious　and　secretive；　abandoned　his　plantation　taking



the　people　with　him。　　It　was　impossible　to　tell　what　had　happened。



At　last；　towards　the　decline　of　the　day；　the　Editor　and　the　sailing



master　discovered　a　track　of　sandals　crossing　a　strip　of　sandy



beach　on　the　north　shore　of　the　bay。　　Following　this　track



fearfully；　they　passed　round　the　spur　of　the　headland；　and　there　on



a　large　stone　found　the　sandals；　Renouard's　white　jacket；　and　the



Malay　sarong　of　chequered　pattern　which　the　planter　of　Malata　was



well　kn