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shrugged his shoulders； and after a moment's rejection turned away。 She
walked with him。 He felt that she too wanted to be rid of him。
〃Is there nothing I can do at all？〃 he asked。
〃You can send him some paints；〃 she said。 〃There is nothing else he
wants。〃
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〃Can he paint still？〃
〃He is painting the walls of the house。〃
〃This is a terrible life for you； my poor child。〃
Then at last she smiled； and there was in her eyes a look of
superhuman love。 Dr。 Coutras was startled by it； and amazed。 And he
was awed。 He found nothing to say。
〃He is my man；〃 she said。
〃Where is your other child？〃 he asked。 〃When I was here last you
had two。〃
〃Yes； it died。 We buried it under the mango。〃
When Ata had gone with him a little way she said she must turn back。
Dr。 Coutras surmised she was afraid to go farther in case she met any of
the people from the village。 He told her again that if she wanted him she
had only to send and he would come at once。
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Chapter LVI
Then two years more went by； or perhaps three； for time passes
imperceptibly in Tahiti； and it is hard to keep count of it； but at last a
message was brought to Dr。 Coutras that Strickland was dying。 Ata had
waylaid the cart that took the mail into Papeete； and besought the man
who drove it to go at once to the doctor。 But the doctor was out when the
summons came； and it was evening when he received it。 It was
impossible to start at so late an hour； and so it was not till next day soon
after dawn that he set out。 He arrived at Taravao； and for the last time
tramped the seven kilometres that led to Ata's house。 The path was
overgrown； and it was clear that for years now it had remained all but
untrodden。 It was not easy to find the way。 Sometimes he had to stumble
along the bed of the stream； and sometimes he had to push through shrubs；
dense and thorny； often he was obliged to climb over rocks in order to
avoid the hornet…nests that hung on the trees over his head。 The silence
was intense。
It was with a sigh of relief that at last he came upon the little unpainted
house； extraordinarily bedraggled now； and unkempt； but here too was the
same intolerable silence。 He walked up； and a little boy； playing
unconcernedly in the sunshine； started at his approach and fled quickly
away： to him the stranger was the enemy。 Dr。 Coutras had a sense that
the child was stealthily watching him from behind a tree。 The door was
wide open。 He called out； but no one answered。 He stepped in。 He
knocked at a door； but again there was no answer。 He turned the handle
and entered。 The stench that assailed him turned him horribly sick。 He
put his handkerchief to his nose and forced himself to go in。 The light
was dim； and after the brilliant sunshine for a while he could see nothing。
Then he gave a start。 He could not make out where he was。 He seemed
on a sudden to have entered a magic world。 He had a vague impression
of a great primeval forest and of naked people walking beneath the trees。
Then he saw that there were paintings on the walls。
〃； I hope the sun hasn't affected me；〃 he muttered。
A slight movement attracted his attention； and he saw that Ata was
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lying on the floor； sobbing quietly。
〃Ata；〃 he called。 〃Ata。〃
She took no notice。 Again the beastly stench almost made him faint；
and he lit a cheroot。 His eyes grew accustomed to the darkness； and now
he was seized by an overwhelming sensation as he stared at the painted
walls。 He knew nothing of pictures； but there was something about these
that extraordinarily affected him。 From floor to ceiling the walls were
covered with a strange and elaborate composition。 It was indescribably
wonderful and mysterious。 It took his breath away。 It filled him with an
emotion which he could not understand or analyse。 He felt the awe and
the delight which a man might feel who watched the beginning of a world。
It was tremendous； sensual； passionate； and yet there was something
horrible there； too； something which made him afraid。 It was the work of
a man who had delved into the hidden depths of nature and had discovered
secrets which were beautiful and fearful too。 It was the work of a man
who knew things which it is unholy for men to know。 There was
something primeval there and terrible。 It was not human。 It brought to
his mind vague recollections of black magic。 It was beautiful and
obscene。
〃； this is genius。〃
The words were wrung from him； and he did not know he had spoken。
Then his eyes fell on the bed of mats in the corner； and he went up；
and he saw the dreadful； mutilated； ghastly object which had been
Strickland。 He was dead。 Dr。 Coutras made an effort of will and bent
over that battered horror。 Then he started violently； and terror blazed in
his heart； for he felt that someone was behind him。 It was Ata。 He had
not heard her get up。 She was standing at his elbow； looking at what he
looked at。
〃Good Heavens； my nerves are all distraught；〃 he said。 〃You nearly
frightened me out of my wits。〃
He looked again at the poor dead thing that had been man； and then he
started back in dismay。
〃But he was blind。〃
〃Yes； he had been blind for nearly a year。〃
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Chapter LVII
AT that moment we were interrupted by the appearance of Madame
Coutras； who had been paying visits。 She came in； like a ship in full sail；
an imposing creature； tall and stout； with an ample bust and an obesity
girthed in alarmingly by straight…fronted corsets。 She had a bold hooked
nose and three chins。 She held herself upright。 She had not yielded for an
instant to the enervating charm of the tropics； but contrariwise was more
active； more worldly； more decided than anyone in a temperate clime
would have thought it possible to be。 She was evidently a copious talker；
and now poured forth a breathless stream of anecdote and comment。 She
made the conversation we had just had seem far away and unreal。
Presently Dr。 Coutras turned to me。
〃I still have in my the picture that Strickland gave me；〃 he
said。 〃Would you like to see it？〃
〃Willingly。〃
We got up； and he led me on to the verandah which surrounded his
house。 We paused to look at the gay flowers that rioted in his garden。
〃For a long time I could not get out of my head the recollection of the
extraordinary decoration with which Strickland had covered the walls of
his house；〃 he said reflectively。
I had been thinking of it； too。 It seemed to me that here Strickland
had finally put the whole expression of himself。 Working silently； knowing
that it was his last chance； I fancied that here he must have said all that he
knew of life and all that he divined。 And I fancied that perhaps here he
had at last found peace。 The demon which possessed him was exorcised
at last； and with the completion of the work； for which all his life had been
a painful preparation； rest descended on his remote and tortured soul。 He
was willing to die； for he had fulfilled his purpose。
〃What was the subject？〃 I asked。
〃