with timid reverence he tried in an access of clumsy tenderness to dry the tears that trembled on her eyelashes. He had his reward in a fleeting smile that brightened her face for the short fraction of a second, but soon the tears fell faster than ever, and he could bear it no more. He rose and walked towards Almayer, who still sat absorbed in his contemplation of the sea. It was a very, very long time since he had seen the sea—that sea that leads everywhere, brings everything, and takes away so much. He had almost forgotten why he was there, and dreamily he could see all his past life on the smooth and boundless surface that glittered before his eyes.
Dain's hand laid on Almayer's shoulder recalled him with a start from some country very far away indeed. He turned round, but his eyes seemed to look rather at the place where Dain stood than at the man himself. Dain felt uneasy under the unconscious gaze.
"What?" said Almayer.
"She is crying," murmured Dain, softly.
"She is crying! Why?" asked Almayer, indifferently.
"I came to ask you. My Ranee smiles when looking at the man she loves. It is the white woman that is crying now. You would know."
Almayer shrugged his shoulders and turned away again towards the sea.
"Go, Tuan Putih," urged Dain. "Go to her; her tears are more terrible to me than the anger of gods."
"Are they? You will see them more than once. She told me she could not live without you," answered Almayer, speaking without the faintest spark of expression in his face, "so it behoves you to go to her quick, for fear you may find her dead."
He burst into a loud and unpleasant laugh which
