He rises and approaches her, saluting her with an amicable gesture.
She awaits him, chattering with her teeth and lips with an expression
of joy.
Selkirk gently passes his hand over her forehead and neck, calling her
by name; then he starts for his habitation, and Marimonda follows him.
The man and the monkey have just been reconciled. Both were tired of
their isolation.
CHAPTER VII.
A Tete-a-tete.--The Monkey's Goblet.--The Palace.--A Removal.--Winter
under the Tropics--Plans for the Future.--Property.--A burst of
Laughter.--Misfortune not far off.
Tranquility of mind has returned to our solitary; now, his reveries
are more pleasant and less prolonged; his walks through the woods, his
moments of repose during the heat of the day seem more endurable since
_something_, besides his shadow, keeps him company; he has resumed his
taste for labor since there is _somebody_ to look at him; speech has
returned to him since _somebody_ replies to his voice. This
_somebody_, this _something_, is Marimonda.
Marimonda is now the companion of Selkirk, his friend, his slave; she
seems to comprehend his slightest gestures and even his _ennui_. To
amuse him, she resorts to a thousand expedients, a thousand tricks of
the agility peculiar to her race; she goes, she comes, she runs, she
leaps, she bounds, she chatters at his side; she tries to people his
solitude, to make a rustling around him; she brings him his pipes,
rocks him in his hammock, and, for all these cares, all this
attention, demands only a caress, which is no longer refused.
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