M 



L'ENVOI 



Y eyes have gazed their last upon 

 the face of the desert. Although I 

 love her still, — although the memory 

 of her burning ardour, her splendid indiffer- 

 ence and her wealth of illusive charm is my 

 abiding and most valued possession, we shall 

 meet no more. She is not a mistress to be 

 lightly courted. As Brunhild slew Siegfried 

 so would the Desert inevitably slay one who 

 remained her lover after desire had outlasted 

 strength. Her lioness-like caresses are not for 

 those whose blood slows down as it nears the 

 ocean of eternal silence — even as the force and 

 fury of the Gariep sink to tranquillity when the 

 mighty stream nears the Atlantic — and ex- 

 tinction. 



Good-bye, Andries, — best of comrades. I 

 have not told of all our adventures — of how 

 we pursued the springbuck at full gallop 

 across the trackless plains in your springless, 

 home-made rattletrap, behind four wild, half- 

 trained horses, — until we were black and blue. 



S49 



