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few times, blown his nose into the napkin, then stretched out his limbs and loosened his tie, and at that precise moment, the insect had come buzzing up through the doorframe. Driven quite mad by the intense scent of lactic acid leaking from the Hahlian pores (the transpiration of which was eased and enhanced by the warm Riesling), the mosquito had extended its proboscis while still on the approach, landing, blind with greed, on the nape of the governor’s cleanly shaven neck, and penetrating it with a cathartic, crescendo-like bite before suffering the redemptive G ö tterd ä mmerung of the palm of Hahl’s hand. And this was how the blackwater fever had made its way into the governor.
    And Engelhardt? Either he forgot to join the German Club or it no longer crossed his mind, since he felt absolutely no desire at all to socialize privately with those dim-witted, alcoholic planters who comprised the majority of the club members. While he was still at the Hotel F ü rst Bismarck, where Director Hellwig had allowed him to lodge for the first week free of charge, gratis—in the expectation of certain perks in Herbertsh ö he’s hierarchy of prestige for his actions as an intermediary agent for Queen Emma vis- à -vis August Engelhardt (negotiations for purchasing a plantation were by no means an everyday occurrence in the protectorate)—Engelhardt had written around a dozen letters home and to his relatives in which he extolled the ravishing beauty of the colony in flowery, effusive words and urged his comrades-in-spirit to visit him here as quickly as possible.
    He was, he wrote while letting his gaze wander from the hotel veranda over Herbertsh ö he, in the middle of negotiations to purchase a plantation; just imagine the progressiveness: a woman conducted most business dealings here, and no one was irked even in the slightest by his long hair and his beard, so he had again proceeded to wear his hair down, though after heavy downpours it became comically wavy and tended to frizz outward in all directions due to the stifling humidity.
    And, oh, that’s right, he had had the pleasure of meeting a thoroughly likable young seaman at the hotel, a certain Christian Sl ü tter, with whom he had engaged in a couple extended rounds of chess (in one, solus rex had been the result, in his favor), and had even undertaken several joint, exploratory constitutionals beyond the outskirts of the city. This man Sl ü tter was on his way to acquiring his captain’s license and was considering joining the Imperial Navy. He may not have been a vegetarian, but the discussions about the benefits and drawbacks of meat consumption, wherefore the flow of play had often been interrupted for hours on end, had taken place at such a high level and with such geniality that Engelhardt might not have had to leave Germany so quickly had similar conversations been possible with the uninitiated. But presumably one encountered these sorts of unprejudiced, open-minded characters like Sl ü tter only overseas.
    To the naturopath Adolf Just, to his friends at Jungborn and in the various nudist colonies of his homeland, he disclosed that the local weather conditions (the torrential downpours every afternoon he left unmentioned in these lines) were almost predestined to redound to the satisfaction and completeness of the sun worshipper. Indeed, the tropical solar radiation had had such a positive effect on the disposition and physical constitution that, from the second day of his stay, he had undertaken his walks through the capital of the protectorate barefoot, dressed only in a waistcloth around his loins. This was not entirely in accordance with the truth.
    All the same, August Engelhardt must be defended against allegations that he was a liar, enticing future visitors to the South Seas (for there were more than a few who would heed his call) with statements of distorted and outright false fact. Engelhardt himself absolutely felt the compulsion to undress