“By gar, dat magnifique!” Le Grand said as they sat on the upturned canoe and looked round them.
It was coming evening; as far as the eye could reach, the lighter shades and deep greens of the wilderness spread away in beautiful expanse; still beyond, fifty miles or more, big mountain ranges loomed blue and gray in the afternoon haze, their bases clad in dark colours, their heads touching the sunset clouds. Scattered about, like jewels on a green cloth, were quantities of lakes shimmering in the soft glare of the sinking sun. Here they were bright and silvered, there they were dull, some blue, some colourless; all were still and like liquid drops and blotches from a mighty pen on a green background. One sheet of water that lay in the sun’s rays shone like a body of mercury, dazzling the eye. Lower and still lower sank the fiery globe, turning from yellow to orange; then deeper and grander shades came and it changed to pink, then red, tingeing the clouds with its hot colours. The upper winds of the skies drove streaks and long groups of feathery cloud across the sun’s face; these were at once magnified and painted in brilliant hues—the denser ones blue-black, the lighter ones gray, green, yellow, and scarlet. Ever changing, ever shifting, moving always, the ethereal scenes bewildered the senses of the two that sat there, spell-bound, watching: one dreaming, the other happy, contented with his friend, his quest ended, his hopes realised. Then but half of the red circle showed above the distant mountains; it cast far-reaching rays athwart the now purpling heavens and gilded the peak of Mont d’Ours with a mellow glow that softened everything. The canoe was deep yellow, the men were gently shadowed by its power. Gradually the light of day sank, and the deep shades of evening grew. The lakes and streams lost their sparkle and became vague, almost invisible. A deep sombreness spread over everything, then white mists rose from the waters as their surfaces condensed into vapour and floated upward to join the drifting clouds.
Dark it became and darker, and still the two stayed; distance shortened until nothing but the sides of their own mountain were to be seen. The thousand night lights appeared one by one till a new, cold glow showed the forests black, the nearest lakes as indistinct spots, the clouds as but dark quantities that drifted evenly across the heavens. A silence,—that silence of the mountains,—absolute, fathomless, was over everything. No sound, not the slightest breeze moved; only their own thoughts were heard by the two. The chill strength of the stars grew; all objects became black in their light, and full night had come.
XXII
ETIENNE ANNAOTAHA
Le Grand stood up. “Go dere an’ mak’ camp,” he said, pointing toward the woods that lay enshrouded in gloom on the far side of the mountain. Verbaux nodded, picked up the canoe, and followed. They felt their way through the impenetrable shades and found an open spot with a little spring beside it.
“Ah stay ici two year’ gon’!” Le Grand said as he broke some fire-wood and lighted the evening blaze. Jules went off in the yellow light that reached out among the trees, and brought back long boughs and some forked limbs; with these he quickly made a lean-to. When he and Le Grand finished supper they got out their pipes, and soon tobacco smoke mingled with the fire fumes. “To-mor’ ve see Marie.” Jules’s voice was soft, and his eyes wandered into the darkness.
Le Grand bowed his head. “Dieu merci!” he whispered, and the two were silent. After a long time Verbaux moved over to Le Grand and put his hand affectionately on the old man’s shoulder.
“Le Grand, Ah desire dat toi leeve avec Marie an’ moi; you’ leetle vones aire mort; you have no place, no home, dat have do so mooch for Marie an’ moi?”
Le Grand did not answer at once, but his form shook, and Jules’s arm slid round the thin neck. “Toi do dees for Jules?”