He was wearied by their folly, by their recklessness, by their
impatience--and he seemed to resent these as if they had been gifts of
which he himself had been deprived by the fatality of his wisdom. They
would fight. When the time came Lingard had only to speak, and a sign
from him would send them to a vain death--those men who could not wait
for an opportunity on this earth or for the eternal revenge of Heaven.
He ceased, and towered upright in the gloom.
"Awake!" he exclaimed, low, bending over the sleeping man.
Their black shapes, passing in turn, eclipsed for two successive moments
the glitter of the stars, and Lingard, who had not stirred, remained
alone. He lay back full length with an arm thrown across his eyes.
When three days afterward he left Belarab's settlement, it was on a calm
morning of unclouded peace. All the boats of the brig came up into the
lagoon armed and manned to make more impressive the solemn fact of a
concluded alliance. A staring crowd watched his imposing departure in
profound silence and with an increased sense of wonder at the mystery of
his apparition. The progress of the boats was smooth and slow while they
crossed the wide lagoon. Lingard looked back once. A great stillness had
laid its hand over the earth, the sky, and the men; upon the immobility
of landscape and people.
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