... And another oppression came upon them,--in spite of all the pains,
and the blinding dazzle of waters, and the biting of the sun: the
oppression of drowsiness. They began to doze at intervals,--keeping
their canoe balanced in some automatic way,--as cavalry soldiers,
overweary, ride asleep in the saddle.
But at last, Stéphane, awaking suddenly with a paroxysm of coughing, so
swayed himself to one side as to overturn the canoe; and both found
themselves in the sea.
Maximilien righted the craft, and got in again; but the little chabin
twice fell back in trying to raise himself upon his arms. He had become
almost helplessly feeble. Maximilien, attempting to aid him, again
overturned the unsteady little boat; and this time it required all his
skill and his utmost strength to get Stéphane out of the water.
Evidently Stéphane could be of no more assistance;--the boy was so weak
he could not even sit up straight.
--"_Aïe! ou kê jété nou encò_," panted Maximilien,--"_metté ou
toutt longue._"
Stéphane slowly let himself down, so as to lie nearly all his length in
the canoe,--one foot on either side of Maximilien's hips. Then he lay
very still for a long time,--so still that Maximilien became uneasy.
--"_Ou ben malade?_" he asked.... Stéphane did not seem to hear: his
eyes remained closed.
--"Stéphane!" cried Maximilien, in alarm,--"Stéphane!"
--"_C'est lò, papoute_," murmured Stéphane, without lifting his
eyelids,--"_ça c'est lò!--ou pa janmain cuè yon bel pièce conm
ça?_" (It is gold, little father.... Didst thou ever see a pretty piece
like that?... No, thou wilt not beat me, little father?--no, _papoute!_)
--"_Ou ka dòmi, Stéphane?_"--queried Maximilien, wondering,--"art
asleep?"
But Stéphane opened his eyes and looked at him so strangely! Never had
he seen Stéphane look that way before.
--"_Ça ou ni, Stéphane?_--what ails thee?--_aïe! Bon-Dié,
Bon-Dié?_"
--"_Bon-Dié!_"--muttered Stéphane, closing his eyes again at the sound
of the great Name,--"He has no color;--He is like the Wind."...
--"Stéphane!"...
--"He feels in the dark;--He has not eyes."...
--"_Stéphane, pa pàlé ça!_"
--"He tosses the sea.... He has no face;--He lifts up the dead... and
the leaves."...
[Illustration: ARMISTICE DAY, FORT-DE-FRANCE
_A review at 7 A. M. by the governor anti his staff, all
in evening dress, with cannons booming as noisily as
in the north--followed by a day busily devoted to
doing nothing._]
--"_Ou fou!_" cried Maximilien, bursting into a wild fit of
sobbing,--"Stéphane, thou art mad!"
And all at once he became afraid of Stéphane,--afraid of all he
said,--afraid of his touch,--afraid of his eyes... he was growing like a
_zombi!_
But Stéphane's eyes remained closed;--he ceased to speak.
... About them deepened the enormous silence of the sea;--low swung the
sun again. The horizon was yellowing: day had begun to fade. Tall
Dominica was now half green; but there yet appeared no smoke, no sail,
no sign of life.
And the tints of the two vast Shapes that shattered the rim of the light
shifted as if evanescing,--shifted like tones of West Indian fishes,--of
_pisquette_ and _congre_,--of _caringue_ and _gouôs-zié_ and _balaou._
Lower sank the sun;--cloud-fleeces of orange pushed up over the edge of
the west;--a thin warm breath caressed the sea,--sent long lilac
shudderings over the flanks of the swells. Then colors changed again:
violet richened to purple;--greens blackened softly;--grays smouldered
into smoky gold.
And the sun went down.