He stopped to exclaim in an intense whisper, “O Mara bahia!  O Calamity!” then went on speaking a little louder: 

“There’s no worse enemy and no better friend than a brother, Tuan, for one brother knows another, and in perfect knowledge is strength for good or evil.  I loved my brother.  I went to him and told him that I could see nothing but one face, hear nothing but one voice.  He told me:  ’Open your heart so that she can see what is in it—­and wait.  Patience is wisdom.  Inchi Midah may die or our Ruler may throw off his fear of a woman!’ . . .  I waited! . . .  You remember the lady with the veiled face, Tuan, and the fear of our Ruler before her cunning and temper.  And if she wanted her servant, what could I do?  But I fed the hunger of my heart on short glances and stealthy words.  I loitered on the path to the bath-houses in the daytime, and when the sun had fallen behind the forest I crept along the jasmine hedges of the women’s courtyard.  Unseeing, we spoke to one another through the scent of flowers, through the veil of leaves, through the blades of long grass that stood still before our lips; so great was our prudence, so faint was the murmur of our great longing.  The time passed swiftly . . . and there were whispers amongst women—­and our enemies watched—­my brother was gloomy, and I began to think of killing and of a fierce death. . . .  We are of a people who take what they want—­like you whites.  There is a time when a man should forget loyalty and respect.  Might and authority are given to rulers, but to all men is given love and strength and courage.  My brother said, ’You shall take her from their midst.  We are two who are like one.’  And I answered, ’Let it be soon, for I find no warmth in sunlight that does not shine upon her.’  Our time came when the Ruler and all the great people went to the mouth of the river to fish by torchlight.  There were hundreds of boats, and on the white sand, between the water and the forests, dwellings of leaves were built for the households of the Rajahs.  The smoke of cooking-fires was like a blue mist of the evening, and many voices rang in it joyfully.  While they were making the boats ready to beat up the fish, my brother came to me and said, ‘To-night!’ I looked to my weapons, and when the time came our canoe took its place in the circle of boats carrying the torches.  The lights blazed on the water, but behind the boats there was darkness.  When the shouting began and the excitement made them like mad we dropped out.  The water swallowed our fire, and we floated back to the shore that was dark with only here and there the glimmer of embers.  We could hear the talk of slave-girls amongst the sheds.  Then we found a place deserted and silent.  We waited there.  She came.  She came running along the shore, rapid and leaving no trace, like a leaf driven by the wind into the sea.  My brother said gloomily, ‘Go and take her; carry her into our boat.’  I lifted her in my arms.