A sigh under the flaming blue, a shiver of the sleeping sea, a cool breath as if a door had been swung upon the frozen spaces of the universe, and with a stir of leaves, with the nod of boughs¹, with the tremble of slender branches the sea breeze struck the coast, rushed up the river, swept round the broad reaches, and travelled on in a soft ripple² of darkening water, in the whisper of branches, in the rustle³ of leaves of the awakened⁴ forests. It fanned in Lakamba’s campong the dull red of expiring embers into a pale brilliance⁵; and, under its touch, the slender, upright spirals of smoke that rose from every glowing heap swayed, wavered, and eddying⁶ down filled the twilight⁷ of clustered shade trees with the aromatic⁸ scent⁹ of the burning wood. The men who had been dozing¹⁰ in the shade during the hot hours of the afternoon woke up, and the silence of the big courtyard was broken by the hesitating murmur¹¹ of yet sleepy voices, by coughs and yawns, with now and then a burst of laughter, a loud hail, a name or a joke sent out in a soft drawl. Small groups squatted¹² round the little fires, and the monotonous¹³ undertone of talk filled the enclosure; the talk of

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