already distinguish a part of the Klappa-wood behind which Badoer lay:—there Adinda slept.
No! surely she did not sleep; how could she sleep? . . Did she not know that Saïdjah would be awaiting her? She had not slept the whole night certainly; the night police of the village had knocked at her door to ask, why the pelitat (Javanese lamp) continued burning in her cottage; and with a sweet laugh she had said, that a vow kept her awake to weave the ‘slendang,’ in which she was occupied, and which must be ready before the first day of the new moon.
Or she had passed the night in darkness, sitting on the rice floor and counting with her eager finger, that indeed thirty-six deep lines were cut near each other. And she had amused herself with an imaginary fright as to whether she had miscalculated, perhaps had counted one less, to enjoy again and again, and every time, the delicious assurance, that without fail three times twelve moons had passed since Saïdjah saw her for the last time.
And now that it was becoming light, she too would be exerting herself with useless trouble, to bend her looks over the horizon to meet the sun, the lazy sun, that stayed away. . . . stayed away. . . .
There came a line of bluish-red, which touched the clouds and made the edges light and glowing;—and it began to lighten, and again arrows of fire shot through the atmosphere; but this time they did not disappear,
