slipped from him. He was consumed with hatred. The night was so thick he felt as though he could grasp its texture in his hands and rend it like tapestry. The rain drove down in a pitiless deluge. The wind howled mockingly, and the trees moaned in their distress. Again the lightning flashed. He gazed quickly about. The palm-grove was deserted. Only the fury of the storm remained.
6
Morning dawned at last, calm and beautiful. The storms, the passions of the night were past. Jolly Cauldron at breakfast was as serene as a June day. Never had he been in a more amiable mood. His good-humor was infectious and Fernay Corday responded to it. But Guy did not. He sat gazing moodily at his plate, as gloomy as a London fog.
Kum-Kum that morning was rather wistful and demure. Now the fire in her eyes was dimmed. She flamed brightest after sunset. Guy was surprized and not a little annoyed to learn that Kum-Kum knew not a word of English. She spoke French entirely, of which he was totally ignorant.
Jolly Cauldron leaned across the table and tapped him on the shoulder.
"I know seven languages," he grinned, "foremost of which is French. Now am I repaid a hundredfold for the barren years of study."
Those days were days of jealousy and insane passion. Guy and Jolly Cauldron watched each other furtively. Jolly Cauldron was untterly enamored of Kum-Kum. He was insane about her. He who had always scoffed at religion now openly worshipped that pagan girl. The Beast was in love with Beauty. Guy elected himself a guardian, a protector to watch over Kum-Kum to see that no harm came to her from her semi-mad wooer. He, too, was fascinated by her. Many times he cursed that he knew no French and could not understand a word she uttered. Often he asked Jolly Cauldron what she had said, but only to be answered by glib lies.
"She says she's very fond of dogs but she doesn't care for them unless they are of noble pedigree. So I told her you had a violent temper, to beware of you because you were descended from all the dogs of war."
At times Guy walked alone down to the beach. He wanted to think calmly. Neither he nor Jolly Cauldron was making the slightest effort to leave the island, despite the fact that the next island was less than five miles away, where they could obtain passage to Papeete on one of the small trading-ships that continually plied in and out through the archipelago. He threw himself on the beach and gazed out to sea. Escape seemed distant. Jolly Cauldron would not leave the island and Guy was unwilling to desert Kum-Kum. He was not in love with her; he simply wished to watch over her. At that moment the island seemed the most beautiful spot in the world.
When Guy thought of Gloria his conscience bothered him. He was virtually deserting her, for he was no longer forced to remain on the island. And yet were he to leave, harm might befall Kum-Kum. He was torn between two duties, and as usual he chose the easiest, the one nearest at hand. In his decision he found no peace. It made him more reckless than ever.
One morning Jolly Cauldron made a daring proposition to Fernay Corday, taking the precaution to see that the trader was half drunk before doing so.
"Bestow the hand of Kum-Kum on me in marriage," he said bluntly, "and I will make you a present of ten gallons of the finest Scotch whisky."
