Babalatchi coughed discreetly, and, leaning forward, pushed over a few
mats for Dain to sit upon, then lifting up his squeaky voice he assured
him with eager volubility of everybody's delight at this long-looked-for
return. His heart had hungered for the sight of Dain's face, and his
ears were withering for the want of the refreshing sound of his voice.
Everybody's hearts and ears were in the same sad predicament, according
to Babalatchi, as he indicated with a sweeping gesture the other bank of
the river where the settlement slumbered peacefully, unconscious of the
great joy awaiting it on the morrow when Dain's presence amongst them
would be disclosed. "For"--went on Babalatchi--"what is the joy of a
poor man if not the open hand of a generous trader or of a great--"
Here he checked himself abruptly with a calculated embarrassment of
manner, and his roving eye sought the floor, while an apologetic smile
dwelt for a moment on his misshapen lips. Once or twice during this
opening speech an amused expression flitted across Dain's face, soon to
give way, however, to an appearance of grave concern. On Lakamba's brow
a heavy frown had settled, and his lips moved angrily as he listened to
his Prime Minister's oratory.
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