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Updated: June 26, 2025
"It is of no consequence. White women have their customs, as you know Tuan, having travelled much, as you say. However, it is late; we will finish our talk to-morrow." Dain bent low trying to convey in a last glance towards the girl the bold expression of his overwhelming admiration.
"Yes, I am going there," he said. "Before the day comes?" asked Babalatchi. "I am going there now," answered Dain, decisively. "The Orang Blanda will not be here before to-morrow night, perhaps, and I must tell Almayer of our arrangements." "No, Tuan. No; say nothing," protested Babalatchi. "I will go over myself at sunrise and let him know." "I will see," said Dain, preparing to go.
They had no difficulty whatever in enlisting him. Despite his monied leisure and his new house, Me Dain was already bored by the quiet life of his native village, where nothing happened save that a river-steamer selling goods called once a week. He was already longing for the trail and the camp fire, and closed without delay on the good offer Jack made him to act as guide to the region where Mr.
His choice of a confidential adviser was perhaps his greatest offence in the eyes of the nobility, for he selected his barber, Olivier le Dain, or Oliver the Devil. This man mocked his master even while he served him. By SARAH H. KILLIKELLY Isabella, the only daughter of John II., of Castile, and Isabella, of Portugal, his second wife, was born in Madrigal, Spain, in 1451.
She knew so much that she made the killing of Dain an impossibility. That much was certain. And yet the sharp, rough-edged kriss is a good and discreet friend, thought Babalatchi, as he examined his own lovingly, and put it back in the sheath, with a sigh of regret, before unfastening his canoe.
Dain walked slowly towards the creek, and, divesting himself of his torn sarong, his only garment, entered the water cautiously. He had had nothing to eat that day, and had not dared show himself in daylight by the water-side to drink. Now, as he swam silently, he swallowed a few mouthfuls of water that lapped about his lips.
"Yes, sahib," said Me Dain, a broad smile lighting up his dark face as he looked up at his old master. "And for why? You lose a big ruby. U Saw got it." The meaning smile on his face broadened. Mr. Haydon slapped his knee with a crack like a pistol shot. There was no need of words between them. "By Jove, Me Dain!" he cried, "I shouldn't be surprised if you are right."
The white man is grieving for the lost treasure, in the manner of white men who thirst after dollars. Now, when all other things are in order, we shall perhaps obtain the treasure from the white man. Dain must escape, and Almayer must live." "Now go, Babalatchi, go!" said Lakamba, getting off his chair. "I am very sick, and want medicine. Tell the white chief so."
Dain was in some danger. He was hiding from white men. So much she had overheard last night. They all thought him dead. She knew he was alive, and she knew of his hiding- place. What did the Arabs want to know about the white men? The white men want with Dain? Did they wish to kill him?
What tales one hears! Mrs. Dain had to twist her stout neck dangerously in order to finish the sentence. 'I should think so! was Leonora's private comment, her gaze fixed on the scarlet of Mrs. Dain's nodding bonnet. In the little room off the dining-room Leonora dipped pen in ink to write to Arthur. She wrote the date, and she wrote the word 'Dear. And she could not proceed.
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