name twice; and I heard voices shouting, ‘Kill! Strike!’ I never turned back. I heard him calling my name again with a great shriek, as when life is going out together with the voice--and I never turned my head. My own name! . . . My brother! Three times he called--but I was not afraid of life. Was she not there in that canoe? And could I not with her find a country where death is forgotten--where death is unknown!” The white man sat up. Arsat rose and stood, an indistinct and silent figure above the dying embers of the fire. Over the lagoon a mist drifting and low had crept, erasing slowly the glittering images of the stars. And now a great expanse of white vapour covered the land: it flowed cold and gray in the darkness, eddied in noiseless whirls round the tree-trunks and about the platform of the house, which seemed to float upon a restless and impalpable illusion of a sea. Only far away the tops of the trees stood outlined on the twinkle of heaven, like a sombre and forbidding shore--a coast deceptive, pitiless and black. Arsat’s voice vibrated loudly in the profound peace. “I had her there! I had her! To get her I would have faced all mankind. But I had her--and--” His words went out ringing into the empty distances. He paused, and seemed to listen to them dying away very far--beyond help and beyond recall. Then he said quietly-- “Tuan, I loved my brother.” A breath of wind made him shiver. High above his head, high above the silent sea of mist the drooping leaves of the palms rattled together with a mournful and expiring sound. The white man stretched his legs. His chin rested on his chest, and he murmured sadly without lifting his head-- “We all love our brothers.” Arsat burst out with an intense whispering violence-- “What did I care who died? I wanted peace in my own heart.”