By Jove, the Nut was a man of breeding! At the sight of such a remarkable transformation, Chéri-Bibi's heart, which was bursting with grief, was filled with pride; he was proud of his pal, so that the combination of these two feelings in a being who was accustomed to amazing ebullitions, excited him to such a degree that he could find expression only in tears; and it was many a long day since his weary eyes had shed tears. The Nut saw that the limbs of this Titan trembled under him when he stood up to receive him. Then he clasped him in his arms. And they held each other fast, and their hearts beat in unison at that moment of mutual grief. . . . A knock at the door told them that they must say good-bye.
"As you are not coming with me," said the Nut, "I must at least hear from you. Let me have news of you. I know that you receive letters in secret. Tell me how I can write to you."
Chéri-Bibi shook his head.
"No, no," he returned. "This ends it all. I insist. . . . We shall no longer know each other. The Nut is dead."
As a result of those terrible but necessary words a silence fell, short but deep as the chasms into which men who dread lest they be seized with giddiness dare not look. Then Chéri-Blbi said:
"Listen to me. I believe you are safe forever. But we can never tell. I have a friend in France from whom you can ask anything, if you need a friend—the Dodger. He is a grocer in the Rue Saint-Roch, Paris, and his real name is Hilaire. He is one of the straightest of men. You can get your supplies from his place. If you want to be well dealt with you have but to say to him the one word 'Fatalitas.'"
It was the last utterance, the supreme farewell, of Chéri-Bibi in taking leave of the Nut. . . . And the Nut allowed himself to be dragged away by Fernandez.
* * * * *
The small boats which brought the passengers from the estuary of the Oyapok had put off, and the Dordogne, commanded by Captain Lalouette, began to churn the sea with her propellers. Soon Cape Orange, and by degrees the entire coastline of Guiana, the land in which the Nut had so greatly suffered, disappeared from view. But to his honor be it said that notwithstanding his long martyrdom, he could not remove his eyes from the land, for he was leaving behind an unhappy man with a splendid heart without whom he would have long since died in despair.
Suddenly a slight cry beside him made him turn his head. A charming young girl in a flutter of anxiety placed her hands to her hair. Her veil, caught by the wind, had become entangled in the rigging and was held fast.