There had come to him, without the asking even, that which Joel Mazarine, had he been as rich as any man alive or dead, could not have bought.

That was why he hummed to himself in happiness.
Youth answering to youth had claimed its own; love springing from the dawn, brave and bright-eyed, had waved its wand towards that good country called Home.

Never from the first had any thought come into the minds of either of these two that was not linked with the idea of home.
Nothing of the jungle had been in their thoughts, though they had been tempted, and love and the moment's despair had stung them to take revenge in each other's arms; yet they had kept the narrow path.

There was in their love something primeval, that belonged to the beginning of the world.
Orlando had almost reached the Cross Trails before he saw Mazarine's wagon standing in the way.

At first he did not recognize the horses, and he called to the driver sitting motionless to move aside.