In the powerful grip Babalatchi swayed to and fro limply, but his face was as peaceful as when he sat--a little while ago--dreaming by the fire.

With a final vicious jerk Willems let go suddenly, and turning away on his heel stretched his hands over the fire.

Babalatchi stumbled backwards, recovered himself, and wriggled his shoulders laboriously.
"Tse! Tse! Tse!" he clicked, deprecatingly.

After a short silence he went on with accentuated admiration: "What a man it is! What a strong man! A man like that"-- he concluded, in a tone of meditative wonder--"a man like that could upset mountains--mountains!" He gazed hopefully for a while at Willems' broad shoulders, and continued, addressing the inimical back, in a low and persuasive voice-- "But why be angry with me?
With me who think only of your good?
Did I not give her refuge, in my own house?
Yes, Tuan! This is my own house.
I will let you have it without any recompense because she must have a shelter.

Therefore you and she shall live here.