Chapter LVI

           

           Thentwoyearsmorewentby,orperhapsthree,fortimepassesimperceptiblyinTahiti,anditishardtokeepcountofit;butatlastamessagewasbroughttoDr.CoutrasthatStricklandwasdying.AtahadwaylaidthecartthattookthemailintoPapeete,andbesoughtthemanwhodroveittogoatoncetothedoctor.Butthedoctorwasoutwhenthesummonscame,anditwaseveningwhenhereceivedit.Itwasimpossibletostartatsolateanhour,andsoitwasnottillnextdaysoonafterdawnthathesetout.HearrivedatTaravao,andforthelasttimetrampedthesevenkilometresthatledtoAta’shouse.Thepathwasovergrown,anditwasclearthatforyearsnowithadremainedallbutuntrodden.Itwasnoteasytofindtheway.Sometimeshehadtostumblealongthebedofthestream,andsometimeshehadtopushthroughshrubs,denseandthorny;oftenhewasobligedtoclimboverrocksinordertoavoidthehornet-neststhathungonthetreesoverhishead.Thesilencewasintense.

           Itwaswithasighofreliefthatatlasthecameuponthelittleunpaintedhouse,extraordinarilybedragglednow,andunkempt;butheretoowasthesameintolerablesilence.Hewalkedup,andalittleboy,playingunconcernedlyinthesunshine,startedathisapproachandfledquicklyaway:tohimthestrangerwastheenemy.Dr.Coutrashadasensethatthechildwasstealthilywatchinghimfrombehindatree.Thedoorwaswideopen.Hecalledout,butnooneanswered.Hesteppedin.Heknockedatadoor,butagaintherewasnoanswer.Heturnedthehandleandentered.Thestenchthatassailedhimturnedhimhorriblysick.

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