With a rhythmical swing
of their bodies they walked through the light towards the outlying
shadows of the forests that seemed to guard their happiness in solemn
immobility. Their forms melted in the play of light and shadow at the
foot of the big trees, but the murmur of tender words lingered over the
empty clearing, grew faint, and died out. A sigh as of immense sorrow
passed over the land in the last effort of the dying breeze, and in the
deep silence which succeeded, the earth and the heavens were suddenly
hushed up in the mournful contemplation of human love and human
blindness.
They walked slowly back to the fire. He made for her a seat out of the
dry branches, and, throwing himself down at her feet, lay his head in her
lap and gave himself up to the dreamy delight of the passing hour. Their
voices rose and fell, tender or animated as they spoke of their love and
of their future. She, with a few skilful words spoken from time to time,
guided his thoughts, and he let his happiness flow in a stream of talk
passionate and tender, grave or menacing, according to the mood which she
evoked. He spoke to her of his own island, where the gloomy forests and
the muddy rivers were unknown. He spoke of its terraced fields, of the
murmuring clear rills of sparkling water that flowed down the sides of
great mountains, bringing life to the land and joy to its tillers.
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