Page:Iracéma, the honey-lips (1886).djvu/90

Joy still reigned in the cabin during the whole time whilst the ears of corn ripened and waxed yellow.

Once at break of day the Christian was strolling by the borders of the sea. His soul was weary.

The humming-bird satiates itself with honey and perfume; it then sleeps in its little white nest of cotton, until another year comes round with its Moon of Flowers. Like it, the warrior՚s soul is sated with happiness; it wants sleep and repose.

Hunting and excursions in the mountains with his friend by his side, the tender caresses of the wife awaiting his return, the pleasant Carbeto^[1] in the Wigwam porch, no longer awakened in him emotions as they were wont to do. His heart began to speak.

Iraçéma was sporting on the beach. His eyes wandered from her over the sea՚s vast expanse.

Large white wings were seen hovering over the blue waste. The Christian knew that it was a big Igára of many sails, such as were constructed by his brethren, and the Saudade of his country wrung his breast.

High rose the sun; the warrior on the shore followed with his eyes the white wings as they fled. In vain the wife called him to the hut, in vain she displayed to his eyes her graces, or offered him the best fruits of the country. The warrior never moved until the sail disappeared behind the horizon.

Poty returned from the Serra, where for the first time he had been alone. He had left serenity on his brother՚s countenance, and now he found there sorrow. Martim went forth to meet him.

"The great Igára of the white Tapúia is on the

sea. The eyes of Poty՚s brother saw them flying