The music of the violins on the balcony blended with the soft, gay voices of the women.

Ernestine was by his side, every one was good-humoured and enjoying his hospitality.
Only one face at the table was a reminder of the instability of his fortunes--a face he had grown to hate during the last few hours with a passionate, concentrated hatred.

Yet the man was of the same race as these people, his connections were known to many of them, he was making new friends and reviving old ties every moment.

During a brief lull in the conversation his clear, soft voice suddenly reached Trent's ears.

He was telling a story.
"Africa," he was saying, "is a country of surprises.