Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. Just as he reached them, the Comte de St Erme drew Valade a little apart and began to converse with him in rapid French. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. If we were set upon I could not defend you.
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