And then he swore to himself to drink no more, and as the habit was not yet inveterate he was able to keep strictly to his promise; he was never drunk again. XXIII A few days later an unforeseen event created a fortunate and necessary diversion in Jean’s existence. The spahis were ordered, both horses and men, to go for a change of air into camp at Dialamban, several miles to the south of St Louis, near the mouth of the river. The day before their departure, Fatou-gaye came to the quarters, wearing her fine blue garment, to pay a farewell visit to her friend. He kissed her for the first time on both her little black cheeks. At nightfall the spahis set out on the march. As for Cora, after the first moments of excessive excitement and resentment, she missed her lovers. In truth she missed both of them, both Jeans, each of whom had appealed equally to her senses. Treated by the spahi as a goddess, it was a change to be treated by the other as the light woman she really was. Hitherto no one had exhibited towards her such calm, absolute contempt; the novelty of it charmed her. But she was seen no more at St Louis trailing her flowing draperies over the sand. She took her departure secretly one day, despatched by her husband on the recommendation of the authorities, to one of the most remote branches in the south. Doubtless Fatou-gaye had been gossiping, and St Louis was shocked at this last scandal in which this woman had figured. XXIV It is a calm night at the end of February, a typical cold weather night—calm and cool, following upon a burning day. The column of spahis bound for Dialamban is crossing at a walking pace the plains of Legbar. Leave had been given to break rank, each man at his choice and pleasure, and Jean, who has fallen to the rear, is marching quietly along in the company of his friend Nyaor.... In the Sahara and the Soudan there are cold nights such as this, possessing the clear splendour of our own winter nights, but with greater transparency and luminousness. A death-like stillness pervades the whole country. The sky is greenish blue, sombre and deep, with an infinity of stars. The moon shines bright as day, and defines the outlines of things with surprising sharpness, tinging them with rosy light. In the distance, farther than sight can penetrate, stretch swamps overgrown with the depressing vegetation of the mangrove tree. Such is all this region of Africa, from the left bank of the river as far as the inaccessible borders of Guinea. Sirius is rising; the moon has reached its zenith; the silence is awe-inspiring. Out of the pink sand rise the tall, bluish euphorbiæ, casting a short, hard shadow. The moon outlines the smallest shadows of the plants with a set and frozen precision, intense in its immobility and mystery.