Jean felt himself vanquished by some strange inner force, a troubling and mysterious emotion; he bent down and kissed his son gently with silent tenderness. Sentiments hitherto unknown penetrated to the very depths of his soul.
The voice of Fatou-gaye, moreover, had awakened in his heart a host of sleeping echoes. The fever of the senses, the habit of possession had linked them together with those strong and enduring bonds which separation can scarcely destroy.
And then Fatou, at least, was faithful to him in her own way, and besides he was so abjectly forlorn, poor fellow....
So he let her hang an African amulet round his neck, and then shared his day’s ration with her.
XVI
The ship continued her voyage. The river flowed in a more southernly direction, and the aspect of the country began to change.
Shrubs now grew on both banks, slim gum trees, mimosas, tamarisks with delicate foliage, grass and green sward. There were no signs of tropical flora; one might have fancied it the less luxurious vegetation of northern latitudes.
Apart from this excessive heat and silence there was nothing now to suggest that it was the heart of Africa—one might have imagined oneself on some peaceful European stream.
However, from time to time some idyll of negro character could be witnessed. In groves that might have served as a setting for a Watteau pastoral, the eye would light upon an amorous negro pair, decked with grigris and bead necklaces, pasturing lean zebus or herds of goats.