Struck in the breast by this home thrust, the poor monkey stops, rolls
up her eyes, moves her lips, and growling confusedly her complaints
and reproaches, crouches beneath a tuft of the sapota, leaving the man
to pursue his way alone.

Selkirk has at first directed his steps toward the valleys; after
having traversed these, he arrives at the margin of a sandy plain, and
as far as the eye can reach, perceives neither city, village, house,
tent nor hut, nothing which can indicate the presence of inhabitants.

Nevertheless, a little grove which he has just traversed, seems to
have recently, in its principal path, passed under the shears of a
gardener; the foliage presents a certain symmetry; fragments of
branches are strewed, on the ground, which seem to have been freshly
cut; he even thinks he sees vestiges of the passage of a flock. On the
lawn of the shore, he has seen, and still sees around him, trees with
tufted heads, which must owe this form to art. He continues his
researches.

At last, in the distance, beneath a fog which is just beginning to
dissolve, he perceives a vast mass of white and red houses, some with
terraced roofs, others covered with thatch; through the humid veil
which envelopes them, he sees the glistening of the glass in the
windows; already he hears at his feet the confused noise of cities;
murmuring voices reply; the measured sound of hammers and of mills
even reaches his ear.

It is Coquimbo! he cannot doubt it, and shortening his route by a path
across the hill, he quickens his pace.