We hastened because of the approaching sea and night, but we thought we might be able to return by another route if the tide should block this one. After the walls came low banks of clay; the space that separated them from the water became narrower and narrower, and the waves finally soaked their base. We stopped, uncertain, to determine what the sea was doing. But the tide was not yet rising; stepping on rocks that jutted out of the water, we continued our search. A promontory came into view; we thought we could see a beach in the distance. Our feet slid over soft plants; gray, crepuscular water, barely distinguishable, splashed feebly between the rocks; uneasiness gripped us, so indeterminate was this water…And suddenly the bank came to an end; fear surged through our hearts, for we sensed the ship was there. The night was allembracing. Noiselessly we moved onward a few steps and then, leaning against the last rock, we looked.

The moon was rising over an immense strand; the blue sands shifted, undulated. On the water floated a whole fleet, formidable, vaporous, strange; we dared not proceed. Mysterious shapes passed by; everything seemed to us so fanciful, so uncertain that we fled, gripped by piteous fear; we were guided and bewildered by the moon that rose above the strand and cast our distorted shadows on the rocks and water in front of us.

Our deliverance came about in a most tragic manner. Appearing and spreading throughout the town, but mildly at first, was the horrible and lamentable plague that later ravaged the island, leaving it as forlorn as an immense desert. It was already interfering with the festivities.

… In the morning the fresh juices that we drank on the terraces, the fruits, and the glasses of cold water after walks in the sunshine; and in the evening, worn out by the excitement of the long day, iced lemonade under the trees in the perfumed gardens that led down to the sea; everything—excessively warm baths and idle musings in the presence of the insidious garments of the women—would soon have induced languor, the first symptom of the plague, if the fear of excessive suffering had not prejudiced us against so many pleasures. We resisted smiles, nocturnal entreaties, the desire for satisfying fruits, shadows in the gardens, music; we even stopped singing for fear of growing faint; but in the morning before sunrise we would walk down the beach, immerse our naked bodies in the wholesome water, and draw new strength and comfort from the sea and the air.

Filth deposited in hidden sewers and wash-houses by slovenly townspeople sent up a pestilential exhalation in the evening; and these paludal vapors carried deadly germs. The sailors and the women felt them in their flesh; it was a nascent uneasiness; they used balms to rinse out their mouths and the heavy scent of aromatic oils blended with their hot breath.

That evening even their dances were subdued. Never had the winds been milder; the waves sang and each soul was enchanted by its body. All of their bodies, as beautiful as marble statues, glistened in the shadows; they sought out each other for embraces, but their desire was not sated; their fever was intensified by their embraces; each added the other’s ardor to his own. Their kisses were bites; wherever their hands touched, they bled.

All night long they depleted themselves through their false embraces, but morning bathed them in a new dawn; then they went toward the fountains to cleanse their tainted tunics. There, new festivities began; light-headed, they laughed from weariness, and their bursts of laughter echoed through their empty heads. The water from the bath-house had been defiled. They rammed their big poles deep into the slime; clouds of mud arose; bubbles arose and burst; leaning over the edges, they breathed in the pestilential smells, but without alarm; they laughed because they were already sick. They again put on their damp tunics and, chilled, drew comfort from the illusion that their bodies had been revitalized. But in the evening their fever underwent a radical change; they ceased laughing; they were overcome by torpor, and each of them flung himself on the grass-covered lawn and thought only of himself.…

On the island were flowers whose bruised corollas discharged a scent like that from a glacial mint. From these plants that grew in the sands they gathered flowering branches, and the petals which they masticated all day long were delightfully refreshing to their dry eyes when placed on their hot eyelids. A soothing sensation permeated their cheeks, penetrated their brains and prompted torpid dreams. They dozed like fakirs. As soon as they ceased their chewing, soothing changed to burning, as happens in the case of sweet-smelling spices or herbs with a peppery flavor. Thirsty, they drank from metal goblets water tinged with tart gooseberry juice. They stopped chewing only to drink.

When their tunics parted and exposed their chests, under their arms, near their breasts, could be seen a purplish bruised spot where the malady had its seat; sometimes their bodies were completely covered with violet drops of sweat. All twelve of us remained silent, too solemn even to cry, and watched our companions die.

Oh! the terrible part was the arrival of the men; they all came down from the plateaus hoping to find women emboldened by desire whom they could infect with the sickness. They came running, hideous, livid; but when they saw that the women were so pale and understood why, they were terrified and ran through the town shouting.