When I was a child, and the priest baptized me, he named me Riolama--the place where my mother was found.

But it was long to say, and they called me Rima." Suddenly she became still and then cried in a ringing voice: "And he knew it all along--that old man--he knew that Riolama was near--only there where the pebble fell--that we could go there!" While speaking she turned towards her home, pointing with raised hand.
Her whole appearance now reminded me of that first meeting with her when the serpent bit me; the soft red of her irides shone like fire, her delicate skin seemed to glow with an intense rose colour, and her frame trembled with her agitation, so that her loose cloud of hair was in motion as if blown through by the wind.
"Traitor! Traitor!" she cried, still looking homewards and using quick, passionate gestures.

"It was all known to you, and you deceived me all these years; even to me, Rima, you lied with your lips! Oh, horrible! Was there ever such a scandal known in Guayana?
Come, follow me, let us go at once to Riolama." And without so much as casting a glance behind to see whether I followed or no, she hurried away, and in a couple of minutes disappeared from sight over the edge of the flat summit.

"Rima! Rima! Come back and listen to me! Oh, you are mad! Come back! Come back!" But she would not return or pause and listen; and looking after her, I saw her bounding down the rocky slope like some wild, agile creature possessed of padded hoofs and an infallible instinct; and before many minutes she vanished from sight among crabs and trees lower down.
"Nuflo, old man," said I, looking out towards his lodge, "are there no shooting pains in those old bones of yours to warn you in time of the tempest about to burst on your head ?" Then I sat down to think..