And temerously, his hands went over her, over the salt, compact brilliance of her body.

The spectral chain-rattling and moans gave me the chills.

The ground tremored under their big boots.

For at her feet, grubbing in the dirt and not a whit cleaner, crawls a fat, chubby, ink-eyed little urchin, all but nude, and chuckling roisterously with the delight of having just constructed with success a model mud-pie after the universal infantile receipt the wide world over, who glances up at its child-mother and glibly gabbles, “Mamita! mamita !" with roguish glee.