After Jean had thus rid himself of Fatou-gaye, he was conscious of a deep feeling of relief at having carried out this act of vengeance1. When he had neatly2 arranged in his soldier’s wardrobe the small quantity of baggage he had brought with him from Samba-Hamet’s house, he felt freer and happier. He seemed to have advanced a step nearer to his departure, to that blissful, “final discharge” which was now only a few months away.
At the same time he was sorry for Fatou. He had intended to send her his pay once more, to enable her either to set up house anew or to leave the town.
Muller had visited Samba-Hamet’s house and had seen the woman griot. But Fatou had gone.
“She was in great trouble,” said the little slave girls in Yolof, forming a circle round him and all talking at once. “In the evening she would not eat the kouss-kouss we had made for her.”
“During the night,” said little Sam-Lélé, “I heard her talking aloud in her sleep, and even the Laobé dogs yapped, which is a very bad sign. But I could not understand what she was saying.”
[162]
She had undoubtedly4 gone away a little before sunrise, with her calabashes on her head.
A macauco woman, Bafoufalé-Diop by name, the woman griot’s chief slave, a person of a very inquisitive5 disposition6, had followed her from a distance, and had seen her turn off by the wooden bridge, over the narrow arm of the river, in the direction of N’dar-toute.
“She had the look of knowing quite well where she was going.”
It was thought in the quarter that she must have sought a refuge in the house of a certain old and very rich Marabout in N’dar-toute, who admired her greatly. Christian7 or not, she was good-looking enough to be free from all anxiety as to her future.
For some time to come Jean avoided passing Coura n’diaye’s dwelling8, and it was not long before he had dismissed the matter entirely9 from his thoughts.
It seemed to him, moreover, as if he had recovered his white man’s dignity, which had been sullied through contact with that black flesh.
Now, when he looked back, that feverishness11 of senses, abnormally excited by the African climate, inspired in him nothing but deep disgust. And he constructed for himself a new scheme of existence, based upon continence and integrity.
In future he meant to live in barracks, like a sensible man. He would save money in order to take back to Jeanne Méry a collection of souvenirs from Senegal—fine mats, which would some day adorn12 their home, the subject of his dreams; embroidered13[163] pagnes, whose rich colours would evoke14 the admiration15 of his countrymen, and which would serve for splendid tablecloths17 in their household; and above all, earrings18 and a cross in fine Galam gold, which he would order especially for her from the most skilful20 native craftsmen21. She would wear them for ornament22 on Sunday when she went to church with the Peyrals, and certainly no other young woman in the village would possess such beautiful jewellery.
This tall spahi, poor fellow, who had so grave an air, was nursing in his uncultured brain a multitude of almost childish projects, simple dreams of happiness, of family life and tranquil23 goodness.
At this time, Jean was nearly twenty-six. He looked older than his years, as is usual with men who have led a hard life in the fields, on the sea, or in the army.
He had changed greatly during these five years in Senegal.
His features were more pronounced; he was swarthier and thinner, and had acquired a more soldierly bearing and more of the Arab look. His shoulders had expanded, while his waist had remained slender and supple24. His manner of wearing his fez and turning up the ends of his long moustache had a soldierly smartness, which became him to admiration. His strength and remarkable25 physical beauty inspired in all who came in contact with him a kind of involuntary respect. They distinguished26 between[164] him and his comrades in the manner in which they spoke27 to him.
II
One day Jean received two letters in a single envelope, bearing the postmark of his village. One letter was from his dear old mother, the other from Jeanne.
Letter from Fran?oise Peyral to her son.
My dear son,—Since my last letter many things have happened which will surprise you very much. But do not worry about them yet. You must do as we do, pray to the good God, and hope for the best.
I will begin by telling you that a new attorney has come into these parts, a young man called M. Prosper30 Suirot, who is not very much liked with us, being hard on poor people, and underhand by nature. But he is a man with a fine position, that cannot be denied. Well, this M. Suirot has asked your Uncle Méry for Jeanne’s hand in marriage, and has been accepted as his son-in-law. Now Méry came here one evening and made a scene; he had applied31 to your colonels for information about you without telling us, and it appears that he received bad accounts of you. They said that you were living with a negro woman out there; that you kept her, in spite of the remonstrances32 of your commanding officers, and that it was this that prevented you from becoming quartermaster, that there are bad reports of you out there; many things, my dear son, that I could never have believed, but it was written on a piece of stamped paper, with your regimental crest34 on it.
[165]
Then Jeanne came running to us in tears, vowing35 that she would never marry Suirot, or be wife to any one but you, my dear Jean, and that she would rather go into a convent.
I enclose a letter which she has written to you, in which she lets you know what you ought to do. She is of age, and very level-headed. Do exactly as she tells you, and write by return of post to your uncle, as she bids you. You will come back to us in ten months’ time, my dear son. If you behave well till you obtain your discharge, and pray constantly to the good God, without doubt everything will come right. But we are much worried, as you may imagine. We are afraid, too, that Méry may forbid Jeanne to come and see us again, and that will be a great pity.
Peyral joins me, my dear son, in embracing you, and in begging you to write to us as soon as possible.
Your old mother, who will love you as long as she lives.
Fran?oise Peyral.
Jeanne Méry to her cousin Jean.
My dear Jean,—I am so unhappy that I wish I could die on the spot. It is a great grief to me that you have never returned, and that you do not talk of coming back soon. And now my parents, backed up by my godfather, want to marry me to that horrid37 Suirot, of whom I have told you. People din33 into my ears that he is rich, and that I ought to feel honoured because he has made me an offer. I say no, you may be sure, and I am crying my eyes out.
My dear Jean, I am very unhappy, because everyone is against me. Olivette and Rose laugh when they see me always with red eyes; I think they would be very glad to marry that big booby Suirot, if he would only[166] have them. As for me, the mere38 thought of it makes me shudder39; and I will positively40 never marry him. If they drive me to it, I will run away from them all, and go into the convent of St Bruno.
If only I could sometimes pay your people a visit, it would cheer me up to have a talk with your mother, whom I love and respect as if I were her daughter. But as it is, I am given black looks, because I go there too often, and who knows if I shall not soon be forbidden to go at all.
My dear Jean, you must do exactly what I am going to tell you. I hear there are wicked rumours42 about you; I say to myself that people spread them for the sole purpose of influencing me. But I do not believe one word of all these stories. They are impossible, and no one here knows you as well as I do. All the same, I should be happy if you would say one little word on this subject, and if you would tell me of your affection for me; you know that it is always pleasant to hear about it, even if one is sure of it. And then, write to my father immediately and ask for my hand in marriage, and be sure to promise him that when you are home and my husband, you will always behave like a sensible, steady man, against whom nothing can be said. And then I will beg him on my knees.
The good God pity us, my dear Jean!
Jeanne Méry.
In country places young people are not taught to express in any way the sentiments of the heart. Girls brought up on the land sometimes feel very deeply, but they have no words to utter their emotions and thoughts; the subtle diction of passion[167] is unknown to them. They cannot explain their feelings, save by the help of simple unimpassioned phrases. Therein lies the whole difference.
Jeanne must have felt very keenly to have written such a letter, and Jean, who spoke the same, simple language, recognised all the firmness and love that underlay44 it. The fervent45 loyalty46 of his betrothed inspired him with confidence and hope; he put into his reply all the tenderness and gratitude48 that he was able to express. He addressed to his Uncle Méry a formal request for Jeanne’s hand, accompanied by very sincere promises of steadiness and good conduct, and then he awaited, without undue49 anxiety, the return mail from France....
M. Prosper Suirot was a young attorney, narrow-chested and round-shouldered; moreover, a rabid free-thinker, bespattering with atheistic50 nonsense all the holy things of old; a short-sighted scribbler, whose small, red eyes were protected by smoked glasses. This rival would have appeared an object of pity to Jean, who felt an instinctive51 repugnance52 for persons who were plain and of poor physique.
Attracted by Jeanne’s dowry and beauty, the little attorney imagined in his foolish conceit54 that he was doing the peasant girl an honour by the offer of his ugly person and infinitesimal social position. He had even made up his mind that after their marriage, in order to rise to his height, Jeanne, having become a lady, should wear a hat.
[168]
III
Six months had passed. The mails from France had brought poor Jean no very bad news, certainly, but on the other hand none that were very good.
Uncle Méry remained inflexible55, but Jeanne no less so, and she always slipped into old Fran?oise’s letter a few loyal and loving words to her betrothed.
Jean himself was full of hope, and never doubted but that everything would be settled without difficulty as soon as he arrived home.
He lost himself more and more in delicious imaginings.... After these five years of exile his return to the village glowed with all the colours of an apotheosis56. All the dreams of the poor, forlorn soldier centred around that radiant moment. He would take his seat in the village diligence, wearing the big burnoose of his spahi’s uniform, and watch the Cevennes coming into sight once more, the familiar skyline of his mountains, the well-known road, the dear old clock-tower, and at last his father’s cottage by the roadside. With what rapture58 would he embrace his beloved old parents!
Then the three of them would go together to see the Mérys. The good people of the village, all the girls, would come running out of their houses to watch him go past. They would admire him in his foreign dress, with the glamour59 of Africa upon him. He would show Uncle Méry his quartermaster’s stripes, which had at last been awarded him, and they would have an irresistible60 effect. After all, Uncle Méry was kind. True, he had often scolded Jean in[169] former days, but he had been fond of him, too; Jean had a very plain recollection of this now; he was very sure of it. (To the exile, far away, those who remain at home are always painted in softer colours; they are remembered as affectionate and kind; their defects, their hardness and rancour, are forgotten.)
And so it seemed impossible that Uncle Méry should not suffer himself to be moved when he saw his two children pleading together. He would surely relent and place Jeanne’s trembling hand in Jean’s. And then, what happiness, what a life of joy and peace, what a Paradise on earth!...
At the same time, Jean did not find it so easy to picture himself in the dress worn by the men of his village. Especially he baulked at the unpretentious headgear of a peasant. This transformation61 was a subject on which he did not care to dwell. It seemed to him that he would no longer, by himself, be the proud spahi he had been, in the accoutrements of former days.
It was in this red uniform that he had learnt to know life. It was on African soil that he had become a man, and more of a man than he guessed. He had an affection for all this—for his Arab fez, his sabre, his horse—this vast, God-forsaken62 country, this desert of his.
Jean did not know what disillusion63 sometimes awaits young men—sailors, soldiers, spahis—when they return to the village which has so often inspired their dreams—left when they were children, and beheld64 from afar through magic prisms.
[170]
Other unfortunate spahis, like himself acclimatised and enervated67 in this land of Africa, have sometimes regretted the desolate68 banks of the Senegal. The long expeditions on horseback, the freer life, the larger light, the boundless69 horizon—all these things are missed when, having grown accustomed to them, one is cut off from them. In the quiet of home life one feels as it were a craving70 for the devouring71 sun, the never-ending heat, a yearning72 for the desert, and a home sickness for the sand.
IV
In the meanwhile, Boubakar-Ségou, the great negro chief, was making trouble in Diambour and the country of Djiargabar. A rumour41 of an expedition was in the air; it was discussed at St Louis in the officers’ mess; debated and commented upon in a thousand aspects by the soldiers, spahis, riflemen, and marines. It was the talk of the day, and every man had his hope of distinguishing himself, of gaining some advantage, a medal or a step.
Jean, who was approaching the end of his service, resolved to avail himself of this opportunity to make amends74 for whatever might have been reprehensible75 in his past behaviour. He dreamed of fastening in his buttonhole the yellow ribbon of the Military Medal, the reward of valour. He longed to signalise his eternal farewell to the black country by some splendid deed of bravery which would immortalise[171] his name in the spahis’ barracks in that corner of the world, where he had lived and suffered so intensely.
Each day there was a rapid interchange of correspondence between the barracks, the naval76 authorities, and Government. Large sealed covers were delivered at the spahis’ quarters, giving the red jackets food for thought. A long and important expedition was anticipated, and the moment was drawing near. The spahis sharpened their great fighting swords, and furbished up their accoutrements with much talk and bravado77, much drinking of absinthe, and a great flow of cheerful comment.
V
It was the beginning of October. Jean, who had been on duty since early morning, going from place to place distributing official documents right and left, was on his way to Government House with a large official envelope to deliver as his final charge.
In the long straight street, empty and deserted78 as a street of Thebes or Memphis, he saw another man in red coming towards him in the sunshine, holding up a letter for him to see. He felt a mournful presentiment79, a vague foreboding, and he hastened his step.
It was Sergeant80 Muller bringing the spahis the French mail, which had arrived from Dakar by caravan81 an hour ago.
“Here, Peyral, this is for you,” he said, handing Jean an envelope bearing the postmark of the humble82 village he loved.
[172]
VI
This letter, which Jean had been expecting for a month, burned in his hands, and he hesitated to read it. He resolved to wait until he had completed his errand before opening it.
He arrived at the railing surrounding Government House; the gate was open, and he entered.
The garden displayed the same lack of animation83 as the street. A large tame lioness was stretching herself in the sun with the airs of an amorous84 cat. Ostriches85 were sleeping on the ground near some stiff, bluish aloes. It was noon—not a soul visible—a silence like that of a necropolis. Yellow palm trees cast never-wavering shadows upon the great, white terraces.
Jean, in his search for someone to speak to, reached the office of the Governor himself, whom he found surrounded by the heads of the various departments of the colonial service.
There, strange to say, they were working strenuously87. Serious matters seemed to be under discussion at this hour traditionally consecrated88 to the repose89 of the siesta90.
In exchange for the cover he delivered, Jean received another addressed to the spahis’ commanding officer.
It contained definite marching orders, which were communicated officially that afternoon, to all the troops in St Louis.
[173]
VII
When Jean found himself once more in the deserted street he could restrain himself no longer, and with trembling hands he opened the envelope.
This time it contained only his mother’s handwriting—handwriting that was shakier than usual, and stained with tears.
He devoured91 the lines—dizziness seized him, poor fellow—clasping his head in his hands, he leaned against the wall.
The packet entrusted to him was very urgent, the Governor had said. He kissed old Fran?oise’s name piously92, and went on his way like a drunken man.
Was this thing possible? It was over, over for ever. They had taken from him, the poor exile, the betrothed of his childish days, whom his old parents had chosen for him.
“The banns are published. The marriage will take place before the month is over. I had been fearing this, my dear son, even since last month; for Jeanne no longer came to see us. But I did not dare to tell you just then for fear of distressing93 you, since there was nothing that we could do in the matter.
“We are in deep despair. Now, my son, a thought struck Peyral yesterday which has alarmed us; it is that you may not wish to come home again now, but to remain in Africa.
[174]
“We are both very old. My good Jean, my dear son, your poor mother begs you on her knees not to let this prevent you from being sensible and from coming back to us soon, as we had expected. Otherwise I would rather die at once, and Peyral too.”
Incoherent, tumultuous thoughts rushed through Jean’s brain.
He made a rapid calculation of dates. No! It was not all over yet, it was not yet an accomplished94 fact. Telegraph! No! What possessed95 him? There was no telegraphic communication between France and Senegal. And after all, what could he have said? If he could have gone away, leaving everything behind, gone away on some very swift ship, and still have arrived in time, he might have thrown himself at their feet, with supplications and tears, and have yet succeeded in moving them to relent. But so far away! What futility96! What impotence! All would be consummated97 before he could even reach them with his message of grief.
And he felt as if his head were crushed by iron hands, and his breast in the grip of a remorseless vice73.
He halted again and reread the letter, and then remembering that he was the bearer of urgent orders from the Governor, he folded up the letter and went on.
Around him all things were lapped in the profound stillness of noon. The old Moorish98 houses stood[175] ranged in straight rows, milk-white beneath the intense blue of the sky. At times, behind their brick walls, the ear of the passer-by might catch some negress’s plaintive99, drowsy100 song, or perhaps the eye might light on a small, coal-black negro asleep on a doorstep, lying on his back in the sun, quite naked, with a necklet of coral, forming a dark patch in the midst of universal radiance. On the smooth sand of the streets, the lizards101 were chasing one another with curious little swaying movements of the head, drawing their tails along the ground and tracing an infinity102 of fantastic zig-zags, complicated like an Arabic design. A distant noise of kouss-kouss pounders, in its monotonous103 regularity104 almost a form of silence, came from Guet n’dar, deadened by the hot, heavy strata105 of the noontide atmosphere.
It seemed as if this tranquillity106 of prostrate107 nature were seeking to make mock of poor Jean’s emotion, and to intensify108 his sufferings. It oppressed him like a leaden winding109 sheet.
Of a sudden this country appeared to him as a vast tomb.
The spahi awoke as if from a heavy sleep that had lasted five years.
He felt himself in fierce revolt, revolt against everything and everyone. Why had they taken him from his village, from his mother, to bury him, in the prime of life, in this country of death?
By what right had they made of him that anomalous110 being called a spahi, a swashbuckler, half African, an outcast, forgotten of everyone, and at last disowned even by his betrothed.
[176]
He felt his heart possessed with frantic111 rage; he was conscious of a desire to wreak112 his wrath113 on some person or some object; a desire to torture, to seize, to crush in his mighty114 arms a fellow man.
And all around him there was nothing, nothing but silence, and heat, and sand.
Alas! he had not even one friend in this whole country, not one devoted115 comrade to whom he could confide47 his sorrow. Good God! he was indeed forsaken, indeed alone in the world.
VIII
Jean hastened to the barracks and threw the packet entrusted to him to the first person he met. Then he turned away and set off haphazard116 for a rapid, aimless walk—it was his own method of stifling117 his sorrow.
He passed the bridge leading to Guet n’dar and turned southwards in the direction of the Point of Barbary, just as he had done that night four years ago when he had fled from Cora’s house in despair....
But this time his despair was the deep, supreme118 despair of a man ... and his life was wrecked119....
For a long time he went southwards, losing sight of St Louis and the negro villages. He sat down exhausted120 at the foot of a sandy mound121 overlooking the sea....
His ideas had no sequence. The day’s excessive sunshine had disordered his mind....
[177]
He noticed that he had never been in this place before, and he began to glance absently about him.
The whole mound bristled122 with tall posts of a grotesque123 appearance, bearing inscriptions124 in the language of the priests of Mahgreb. Bleached127 bones lay strewn pell-mell upon the ground, unearthed128 long ago by jackals. There were likewise a few sprays of greenery, lost, as it were, in the midst of absolute aridity129. These were garlands of convolvulus, exquisitely131 fresh, opening here and there their large pink calyces, trailing among old skulls132, old arm and leg bones.
Great flocks of pelicans136, their white feathers tinged137 with pink, were stalking about the beaches. Seen in the distance through the evening mirage138, their forms assumed weird139 and unnatural140 proportions....
Evening had come. The sun had sunk down into the ocean, and a cooler breeze had set in from the sea.
Jean took out his mother’s letter and began to read it again....
“Now, my son, a thought struck Peyral yesterday which has alarmed us. It is that you may not wish to come back again now, but to remain in Africa.
“We are both very old. My good Jean, my dear son, your poor mother begs you on her knees not to let this prevent you from being sensible and from coming back to us soon, as we had expected. Otherwise I would rather die at once, and Peyral too.”
[178]
Then poor Jean felt his heart break—sobs rent his bosom142, and his spirit of revolt dissolved in tears.
IX
Two days later all the warships143 required for the expedition were assembled to the north of St Louis, in the bend of the river near Pop-n’kior.
The embarkation144 was carried out in the midst of a great throng145 of people and a tremendous hubbub146. All the women and children of the black riflemen were massed on the banks, screaming to heaven, as if bereft147 of reason.
Moors148 who had come by caravan from the interior of the Soudan stood round in circles looking on, with their camels, leather sacks, piles of miscellaneous baggage, and their pretty young wives.
Towards three o’clock the whole flotilla, which was to proceed up the river as far as Dialdé in Galam, was groaning149 under its freight of men. It got under way in appalling150 heat.
X
St Louis was receding151 into the distance.... Its level outlines sank lower, fading away until they were mere bluish streaks152 upon the golden sand.... On either side of the river, stretching away until lost to sight, lay vast, unhealthy desert plains, everlastingly153 hot, everlastingly dreary....
And these tracts154 were but the approach to this great God-forsaken country—the vestibule of the immense solitudes155 of Africa....
[179]
Jean and the other spahis were embarked157 on the Falémé, which led the flotilla, and was presently a two days’ voyage ahead of the other vessels158.
In the very moment of departure Jean had written a hurried reply to poor old Fran?oise. After consideration, he had decided159 that he would not deign160 to write to his betrothed, but in his letter to his mother he had put his whole soul into the task of comforting her, and restoring peace and hope to her mind.
“After all,” he had written, “she was too rich for us. We shall have no difficulty in finding some other girl at home who will have me. We will arrange to live in our old house, and then we shall be nearer to you than ever. My dear parents, I think of nothing all day long but the joy of seeing you once more, and I swear that I will never, never leave you again....”
Such, to be sure, was his intention, and it was true that he thought of his dear old parents every day. But the idea of sharing his life with a woman other than Jeanne took the brightness out of everything. It was a terrible thought, which cast a dense161, mourning veil upon the joy of his return....
Do what he would to regain162 his courage, it seemed that he had no longer an object in life, and that the future was a blank wall to him for ever and ever.
Beside him on the bridge of the Falémé was seated the gigantic Nyaor-fall, the black spahi, to whom, as his most faithful friend, Jean had confided163 his troubles.
Nyaor did not attempt to understand these[180] sentiments—Nyaor, whom no one had ever loved, whose thatched roof harboured three purchased wives, whom he intended to sell as soon as they ceased to please him.
Nevertheless he realised that his friend Jean was unhappy. He smiled at him kindly165, and to distract him told him negro stories irresistibly166 soporific.
XI
The flotilla sailed up the river with all possible speed, making fast at sunset and getting under way again at dawn.
At Richard-Toll, the first French outpost, more men, negresses, and material were taken on board.
At Dagana, a two days halt was made, and the Falémé received orders to continue her voyage alone as far as Podor, the last outpost before reaching Galam, where several companies of riflemen had already been concentrated.
XII
The Falémé continued on her way through the vast desert; she plunged167 swiftly into the interior, sailing up the yellow waters of the narrow river which separates Moorish Sahara from the great mysterious continent with its black population.
Jean, in melancholy168 mood, saw one desolate region succeeding another. His eyes followed the ever-receding horizon—the winding ribbon of the Senegal[181] lost in the infinite distance that lay behind him. These accursed plains, unfolding themselves endlessly before his gaze, made a painful impression upon him. He felt a tightening169 of the heart, as if all the time this whole country were closing in upon him, and he were never to return.
Here and there on the desolate banks great, black vultures stalked solemnly, or bald-headed marabouts, with a suggestion of something human in their profiles.
Sometimes an inquisitive monkey would spring out from the mangrove170 thicket171 to watch the ship glide172 past—or a splendid white heron would rise from the reeds, or a kingfisher in its sheen of emerald and lapis lazuli, disturbing in its flight a sluggish173 crocodile asleep on the mud.
On the south bank—the bank pertaining174 to the sons of Ham—an occasional village would appear, lost in the midst of this vast region of desolation.
The existence of these human habitations were advertised from a great distance by two or three gigantic palm trees, with fan-shaped leaves, huge fetish trees, as it were, keeping watch over the towns.
In the midst of the great bare plain, these palm trees had the appearance of giants lying in wait in the desert. Their perfectly175 straight, highly polished, greyish pink trunks were thickened like Byzantine columns, and displayed at the top scanty176 bunches of leaves, as stiff as if cut from iron plate.
Presently, as one drew nearer, one could discern a negro anthill, huts with peaked roofs, grouped in compact masses at the foot of the palm trees, producing[182] a general effect of greyness against the unvarying yellow of the sands.
Some of these African cities had a large population; all were surrounded by thick, gloomy tatas—walls made of earth and wood, and erected177 as a protection against enemies and wild beasts. A tattered178 piece of white cloth, floating from a roof loftier than the rest, marked the dwelling of the chief.
At the gates of their ramparts sombre figures showed themselves, aged179 chiefs, aged priests covered with amulets181, their long, black arms contrasting with the whiteness of their flowing robes. They watched the Falémé pass, her rifles and guns ready to open fire at the slightest sign of hostile intention.
One might well ask what means of subsistence these men possessed, what lives they led, what occupations they pursued behind those grey walls—these beings who knew nothing of the outer world, nothing beyond the solitudes and the merciless sun.
On the north bank—where the Sahara lies—there was more sand, more desolation, but of a different aspect.
In the distance, very far away, shone out great fires of grass kindled182 by the Moors, with columns of smoke rising straight up in the still air to an incredible height. On the horizon, chains of hills showed up, intensely red, like burning coals, resembling, amid these columns of smoke, an unlimited183 succession of furnaces.
And there, where there was nothing but arid130 ground and scorching184 sand, a perpetual mirage produced the semblance185 of great lakes, wherein the[183] whole conflagration186 was reflected and reversed. Little wisps of quivering vapour, such as rise from a furnace, wove above all this a shifting web. The delusive187 landscapes shimmered189 and vibrated in the intense heat, and then could be seen changing shape and dissolving like visions. The eyes were dazzled and wearied by the sight of them.
From time to time on this bank appeared groups of men of pure white race—wild-looking and bronzed indeed, but with features of regular beauty, and with long curling hair, which gave them a look of Biblical prophets. They went bare-headed under that terrible sun, arrayed in flowing robes of dark blue. These were Moors of the tribe of Braknas or Tzarzas, bandits to a man, plunderers, robbers of caravans190—the most lawless of all the tribes of Africa.
XIII
The east wind, which is like the mighty respiration191 of the Sahara, had sprung up, gaining strength by degrees as the distance from the sea increased.
This parching192 wind, hot like a blast from a forge, now blew across the desert. It covered all things with a fine sandy dust, and brought with it the burning thirst of Bled-el-Ateuch. The awnings193 that sheltered the spahis had to be continually watered by a negro, whose hosepipe traced rapid arabesques194 which disappeared as quickly as they were made, evaporating almost immediately in the parched195 atmosphere.
And now the ship was approaching Podor, one of[184] the largest towns on the river, and the Sahara bank began to show signs of life.
This was the entrance to the country of the Doua?ch, shepherds grown rich through cattle raids upon the negro territory.
These Moors used to swim their long caravans across the Senegal, driving before them the stolen cattle. Presently camps came into view, pitched upon the never-ending plain. The camelskin tents, stretched between wooden stakes, resembled huge bats’ wings spread out upon the sand; they formed weird patterns of an intense black in the midst of a country that was of a uniform, unvarying yellow. Everywhere there were somewhat increased signs of animation, of activity and life.
On the banks larger groups of people came running to see the ship. Moorish women, beautiful, copper197-coloured creatures, half dressed, with frontlets of coral, trotted198 up, sitting astride their small, hump-backed cows; and often there were children scampering199 along behind them on tiny frisky200 calves201; naked children, their heads shaven, except for great tufts of flowing mane, their bodies tawny202 and muscular as those of young satyrs.
XIV
Podor is an important French post on the southern bank of the Senegal, and is one of the hottest places in the world.
It is a strong fortress203, fissured204 by the heat of the[185] sun. A street, tolerably shady, runs alongside the river; it consists of a few houses that are old already and sombre of aspect. You may see there some French farmers of revenue, yellow with fever and an?mia; Moorish or negro pedlars squatting205 on the sand; all the costumes and amulets known to Africa; sacks of ground nuts, bales of ostrich86 feathers, and elsewhere ivory and gold dust.
Behind this semi-European street lies a large negro town built of thatch164. The town is divided into sections like honeycomb, by wide straight streets. Each of its quarters is bounded by thick wooden palisades, and fortified206 like a citadel207.
In the evening Jean wandered about the town, with his friend Nyaor for companion. The mournful songs that floated to his ears from behind those walls, those strange voices, that unfamiliar208 aspect of things, that hot wind, ceasing neither day nor night, inspired him with a kind of vague terror, an inexplicable209 anguish210, compounded of home sickness and loneliness and hopelessness all in one.
Never, not even in the distant outposts of Diakhallémé had he felt so completely alone, so utterly211 forsaken.
Podor was surrounded by fields of millet212; a few stunted213 trees grew there, some brushwood, some scanty grass.
On the Moorish bank opposite lay absolute desert. Yet at the entrance to a road, of which scarcely the beginnings existed, and which soon lost its identity in the sands to the north, stood a signpost with this prophetic inscription125: “To Algiers.”
[186]
XV
It was five in the morning; the red lustreless214 sun was rising over the land of the Doua?ch. Jean returned to the Falémé, which was preparing to resume its voyage. The negro women who were travelling by the Falémé were already lying on the deck, rolled in their variegated215 pagnes, packed together so tightly that nothing could be distinguished on the ground but a confused heap of drapery, gilded216 by the morning light, with here and there a black, heavily braceletted arm waving in the air.
Jean, who was making his way between them, suddenly felt himself seized by two supple arms that wound themselves like two serpents around his legs.
The woman was hiding her head and kissing his feet.
“Tjean! Tjean!” ... said a queer little voice, well known to him. “I have followed you for fear you should gain Paradise (be killed) in the war. Tjean, won’t you look at your son?”
And the two black arms lifted up a bronzed child and held him towards the spahi.
“My son? my son?” repeated Jean in his brusque soldier’s way, yet in a voice that trembled nevertheless, “my son? What nonsense are you talking, Fatou?”
“But it’s true all the same,” he added, strangely moved, bending down to look at the child, “It’s true all the same; he is nearly white.”
[187]
The child had none of his mother’s blood in his veins217; he was Jean’s son entirely. He was bronzed, but essentially218 white like the spahi; he had the same deep eyes, the same beauty. He stretched out his hands and looked about him, knitting his little brows with an expression of precocious219 seriousness, as if wondering what fate had in store for him, and how, his Cevennes blood came to be mingled220 with that of this impure221 black race.
Jean felt himself vanquished222 by some strange inner force, a troubling and mysterious emotion; he bent223 down and kissed his son gently with silent tenderness. Sentiments hitherto unknown penetrated224 to the very depths of his soul.
The voice of Fatou-gaye, moreover, had awakened225 in his heart a host of sleeping echoes. The fever of the senses, the habit of possession had linked them together with those strong and enduring bonds which separation can scarcely destroy.
And then Fatou, at least, was faithful to him in her own way, and besides he was so abjectly226 forlorn, poor fellow....
So he let her hang an African amulet180 round his neck, and then shared his day’s ration16 with her.
XVI
The ship continued her voyage. The river flowed in a more southernly direction, and the aspect of the country began to change.
[188]
Shrubs227 now grew on both banks, slim gum trees, mimosas, tamarisks with delicate foliage228, grass and green sward. There were no signs of tropical flora229; one might have fancied it the less luxurious230 vegetation of northern latitudes231.
Apart from this excessive heat and silence there was nothing now to suggest that it was the heart of Africa—one might have imagined oneself on some peaceful European stream.
However, from time to time some idyll of negro character could be witnessed. In groves232 that might have served as a setting for a Watteau pastoral, the eye would light upon an amorous negro pair, decked with grigris and bead233 necklaces, pasturing lean zebus or herds196 of goats.
Further on were other herds that no one shepherded, herds of grey crocodiles, hundreds of them asleep in the sun, submerged belly-deep in the warm waters.
And Fatou-gaye would smile. Her eyes would light up with a strange joy, for she recognised the approach of Galam, her native land.
None the less there was one thing that kept her uneasy. When she passed great, grass-grown marshes235, wide, gloomy pools, bordered with mangroves, she would shut her eyes for fear of seeing the black muzzle236 of a hippopotamus237 (n’gabou) emerging from the stagnant238 waters. For her and hers, such an apparition239 would have been an omen57 of death.
It would be impossible to describe the ruses240, the importunity241, the ingenuity242 she had brought to bear[189] in order to secure a passage on this ship on which she knew Jean had embarked.
Where had she taken refuge when she left the house of the griot? In what lair243 had she hidden herself to bring the spahi’s child into the world?
Now, at any rate, she was happy. She was on her way back to Galam, and Jean was with her; her dream had come true.
XVII
Dialdé was situated244 at the confluence245 of the Senegal and a nameless stream, a tributary246 which flowed in from the south.
The post consisted of an unimportant negro village and a small protecting blockhouse of French construction, resembling the isolated247 forts of Upper Algeria.
It was the nearest point to the country of Boubakar-Ségou, and here in the midst of tribes that were still friendly, the French forces were to effect a junction248, and to camp with the allied249 army of the Bambaras.
The flat country surrounding the village had the same monotony and aridity that characterised the banks of the lower Senegal.
None the less clumps250 of trees, or forests even, were already to be seen, indicating that this was the threshold of the land of Galam, the wooded regions of the interior.
[190]
XVIII
It is the first reconnaissance made in the tract53 of country to the east of the encampment of Dialdé, towards Djidiam, and it is carried out by Jean, Sergeant Muller, and tall Nyaor.
According to the report of timid old women of the friendly tribe, fresh tracks of a large body of foot soldiers and mounted men, who could be no other than the army of the great black chief, had been seen on the sand.
For two hours the three mounted spahis patrolled the plain in all directions, but discovered no human footprint, nor any trace of the passage of an army.
On the other hand, the ground was covered with the spoor of all the fauna252 of Africa—from the great round pit made by the heavy foot of the hippopotamus to the dainty little triangular253 hoofprint of the light-stepping gazelle. The sand, hardened by the last showers of the winter season, preserved faithfully all the impressions made upon it by the denizens254 of the wild. The paws of monkeys, the great straggling stride of giraffes, the tracks of lizards and serpents, the pads of tigers and lions were visible. One might have traced the stealthy comings and goings of jackals, the prodigious255 leaps of hunted deer. There were suggestions of all the terrible vitality256 which darkness unchains in these deserts—deserts that lie so silent under the burning eye of the sun. One could form a picture of the saturnalia of wild life bursting forth257 under cover of darkness.
All the wild fowl258 lurking259 in the brushwood rose[191] up, startled by the three spahis’ horses. It was miraculous260 shooting country. Red partridges, guinea fowl, blue jays, pink jays, sheeny blackbirds, and huge bustards flew across the very muzzles261 of their rifles. But the spahis let them all go, still continuing their vain search for human tracks.
It was nearly evening, and dense vapours were gathering262 on the horizon. The sky had that heavy, torpid263 aspect, such as the imagination pictures at the setting of antediluvian264 suns—at the period when the atmosphere, more torrid, more heavily charged with vital essences, was maturing on primitive265 earth the monstrous266 germs of the mammoth267 and the pleiosaurus.
The sun sank slowly down among the strange veils; it grew lustreless, livid, rayless; distorted and disproportionately magnified; and then at last its light was quenched268.
Nyaor, who until that moment had followed Muller and Jean with his customary insouciance269, remarked that it would be imprudent to pursue the reconnaissance further, and that the two toubabs, his friends, would be unnecessarily rash if they persisted.
Actually there was a possibility of every kind of surprise attack, and danger might be lurking all around them. Moreover, there were everywhere fresh spoor of lions; the horses began to stop dead and to sniff270 at the five claw marks so clearly defined on the level sand, and to tremble with terror....
After consultation271, Jean and Sergeant Muller decided to turn, and soon the three horses were racing36 like the wind in the direction of the blockhouse, the[192] white burnooses of their riders floating behind them. In the distance, that awe-inspiring cavernous voice, which the Moors liken to thunder, began to make itself heard: the roar of the hunting lion.
They were brave men, these three, galloping272 there, yet they experienced that kind of vertigo273 which is produced by excessive speed; the contagion274 of that dread275 which was spurring on their maddened beasts. The reeds which bent under them, the branches that whipped their legs, seemed to them troops of lions of the desert, bounding in pursuit of them....
Soon they were within sight of the stream which separated them from the French tents, the inhabited world, and the little Arab blockhouse of the village of Dialdé, still glowing with the last red rays of sunset.
They swam their horses across and re-entered the camp.
XIX
It was the evening hour, with its atmosphere of intense melancholy. Sunset awakened this obscure village to a kind of animation all its own. The black herdsmen were driving home their flocks; the warriors276 of the tribe, busy with their preparations for battle, were sharpening their fighting knives, and furbishing up their prehistoric277 guns. The women were making kouss-kouss, to serve as provisions for the army, and were milking their ewes and lean zebu cows. A confused murmur278 of negro voices arose, mingled with the querulous bleating279 of goats and the plaintive yelping280 of Laobé dogs....
[193]
Fatou was there, seated at the door of the blockhouse with her child, in the humble, suppliant281 attitude she had continued to adopt since her return.
And Jean, his heart oppressed with solitude156, came and sat beside her, and took the child on his knee with a feeling of tenderness towards his black family in its happiness, and of finding at Dialdé in Galam someone who loved him.
Near them the griots were rehearsing their warlike songs. They were chanting softly, in mournful, falsetto voices, accompanying themselves on small primitive guitars, consisting of two strings282 stretched upon serpent skin, producing a faint sound like the stridulation of crickets. They were singing these African airs that harmonise so well with the desolation of their country and have a charm of their own, with their elusive188 rhythm and their monotony....
Jean’s son was a delightful283 baby, but very solemn, and was seldom seen to smile. He was dressed in a blue bou-bou and a necklace, like a Yolof child, but his head was not shaved or ornamented284 with little tails of hair, as is usual with children of the country. As he was a little “white” boy, his mother had let his curly hair grow, and one lock fell across his forehead, as with Jean.
Jean remained there a long time, seated at the door of the blockhouse, playing with his son.
The last rays of daylight fell upon this singular picture; the child with his angel face, the spahi with his soldierly beauty, playing together alongside of those sinister285 dark minstrels.
Fatou-gaye was seated at their feet contemplating[194] the pair with adoring eyes, crouching286 on the ground before them like a dog at its master’s feet.
Poor Jean had remained very much of a child, as is commonly the case with young men who have led a hard life, and whose precocious physical development has endowed them early with a mature and serious manner. He dandled his son on his knees with soldierly awkwardness, constantly bursting into peals287 of fresh, youthful laughter. But the child, the spahi’s son, did not laugh much; he put his chubby288 arms round his father’s neck and nestled close to his breast, looking about him with a very solemn air....
When night fell, Jean disposed of them both safely in the interior of the blockhouse; then he gave Fatou all the money he had left, three khaliss (fifteen francs)....
“See,” he said, “to-morrow you will buy kouss-kouss for yourself and good milk for him.”
XX
Then he made his way towards the camp, so that he, too, might lie down and sleep.
To reach the French tents, he had to pass through the camp of the allied Bambaras. The night was of a luminous289 transparency, and everywhere the whirring noises of insects were audible; one grew aware that there were thousands and thousands of crickets and cicadas under every blade of grass, in each little hole in the sand. Sometimes the concerted[195] effect of all these whirring sounds was strident and deafening290, as if the whole vast country were covered with an infinite number of tiny bells and rattles291, and then momentarily the whole din would seem to die down, as if all these crickets had passed the word for silence, and there was a sudden hush293.
Lost in thought, Jean went his way. He was very dreamy this evening.... And as he mused294, without looking where he was going, he found himself engulfed295 suddenly in a great circle of men, who kept revolving296 around him in the rhythm of a dance. (The circular dance is the form specially19 favoured by the Bambaras.)
The dancers were men of lofty stature297, wearing long white robes and high turbans, likewise white, with two black horns.
And in the transparent298 night the circle revolved299 almost noiselessly; the movement was slow, but light-footed as a spirit dance. The sweep of the draperies gave forth rustling300 sounds like the feathers of great birds.... And the dancers, all in unison301, assumed various poses, poised302 on tiptoe, swaying backwards303 or forwards, flinging out in one simultaneous movement their long arms, and thus spreading out, like transparent wings, the innumerable folds of their muslin robes.
There was a soft accompaniment of tom-toms, as if muted; the wailing304 flutes305 and the ivory horns sounded muffled306 and remote. This monotonous music, which gave the tune307 to the circular dance of the Bambaras, resembled a magical incantation.
And all the dancers, as they passed the spahi, bent[196] their heads towards him as a sign of recognition, and smiled as they said to him,
“Tjean, come into our dance.” ...
Jean also recognised most of them in their festal robes; they were black spahis or riflemen, who had donned the long white bou-bou and the temba-sembé, the ceremonial headdress.
Jean smiled and greeted them as he made his way through,
“Good evening, Niodagal; good evening, Imobé-Fafandou; good evening, Dempa-Taco and Samba-Fall; good evening, big Nyaor,” for Nyaor was there, too, one of the tallest and handsomest....
But nonetheless Jean quickened his step, anxious to shake off these long coils of white-robed dancers, ever winding and unwinding themselves around him.
All this was affecting him—the night, the dance, and the music, which seemed to be that of another world.
And ever they repeated, “Tjean, come into our dance,” and they continued to flit around him like visions, sportively encircling him, purposely extending their winding chain to prevent him from making his escape....
XXI
As soon as Jean had lain down in his tent, he set himself to work out a whole host of new plans for the future.
[197]
He was certainly going back first of all to see his old father and mother. Nothing should induce him to postpone308 this visit. But after that he would undoubtedly have to return to Africa, now that he had a son. He realised clearly that he already loved this little child of his with all his heart, and that no consideration on earth could induce him to abandon him.
Without, in the Bambara encampment, could be heard at regular intervals the voices of the griots, chanting on three dismal309 notes the sacred war cry. They cast this owl-like chant over the slumbering310 tents, and lulled311 the black warriors into their first sleep with exhortations313 to be brave, and to load their carbines with several bullets at once on the day of battle.
Everyone was aware that the day was close at hand, and Boubakar-Ségou not far off.
What should he do at St Louis when he came back after his leave and reclaimed314 his little son? Should he re-enlist? Or would it be better to try his fortune in some independent adventure?...
He might perhaps become a farmer of revenue on the river. No, he felt an invincible315 repugnance to any other professions than those of agriculture and arms.
[198]
All sounds of life were now hushed in the village of Dialdé, and the encampment itself was silent. From afar could be heard the lion’s roar, and every now and then the most dismal sound in the world, the howling of jackals, a dirge-like accompaniment to the poor spahi’s dream....
From every point of view the existence of that small child was making a complete change in all his plans, rendering316 the difficulties of the future infinitely317 more complicated....
“Tjean, come into our dance!”
Jean, worn out by the day’s long expedition, was half asleep, and even as he planned for his future, he saw in a dream the Bambara dance ever slowly revolving around him. The dancers flitted past with smooth movements of the limbs, languishing318 attitudes, to the strains of a vague music wherein there was something unearthly.
“Tjean, come into our dance!”
Their heads, inclining towards Jean in greeting, seemed to be bent under the burden of their lofty ceremonial headdress. And now again he saw grinning faces, death-like, leaning towards him with an air of recognition, and saying very softly with phantom319 smiles,
“Tjean, come into our dance.”
Finally, little by little, Jean was completely overcome by weariness, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. But he had decided nothing....
[199]
XXII
The great day, the day of battle, had come.
At three in the morning the whole encampment of Dialdé was astir—spahis, riflemen, Bambara friendlies, were getting ready to set out on their march, with their arms and ammunition320.
The Marabouts had prayed at great length; numbers of talismans321 had been distributed. By order of the chiefs the black warriors, according to their custom on the occasion of great battles, had loaded their carbines with powder half-way up the barrel and with bullets up to the muzzle. With such thoroughness had they carried out the order that most of the firearms burst at the first discharge, not an infrequent occurrence in negro warfare322.
The orders were to make for the village of Djidiam, where, according to the report of the native scouts323, Boubakar-Ségou had ensconced himself with his army behind thick palisades of timber and mud. Djidiam was the principal fortress of this personage, who had become almost legendary324, the terror of the country—a sort of fabulous325 hero, whose strength lay in retreat, in hiding himself always in the recesses326 of his murderous country, and in baffling discovery.
They were to camp during the afternoon in the great woods adjoining the enemy headquarters, and finally to fall upon Djidiam by night, to set fire to the village, which would burn in the moonlight like an auto-da-fé of straw. Then they were to return victorious327 to St Louis, before fever should have had time to decimate the expedition.
[200]
On the eve of battle Jean had written a very affectionate letter to his old parents—a poor, pencilled letter! It went down the river by the Falémé on that very day, and must have soothed328 the heart of his old mother, in that far country....
A little before sunrise he kissed his child, who lay asleep in the arms of Fatou-gaye. Then he mounted his horse.
XXIII
In the early morning Fatou-gaye, with her son in her arms, likewise took the road. She made her way to Nialoumbaé, a village belonging to a friendly tribe, the dwelling place of a famous Marabout, a preacher renowned329 for the arts of prediction and sorcery.
She asked her way to the hut of this centenarian, whom she found prostrate on his mat, muttering, like a dying man, prayers to his deity330.
They had a long interview, and it resulted in the priest putting into the girl’s hands a small leather pouch331, seemingly containing something very precious; and this pouch Fatou secured carefully in her waistband.
Then the Marabout administered a sleeping draught332 to Jean’s child, and in exchange Fatou offered the priest three large silver coins, the spahi’s last khaliss, which the old man put away in his purse. Then Fatou tenderly wrapped her son, already sunk into a charmed sleep, in an embroidered pagne, fastened the precious burden on to her back, and had[201] herself directed to the woods, where the French were to camp that evening.
XXIV
It is seven in the morning, the scene a forlorn spot in the country of Diambour, a grass-covered marsh234, surrounding a small sheet of water.
To the north a low hill bounds the horizon. Southwards as far as the eye can see stretch the great levels of Dialakar.
In this African landscape, which would have fitted equally well into some solitary335 tract of ancient Gaul, horsemen come into view. They sit their horses proudly, handsome fellows all of them, in their red jackets, blue pantaloons, large white hats slouched over their bronzed faces. There are twelve of them, twelve spahis sent out as scouts in charge of an adjutant, and Jean is one of them.
The air holds no presage336 of death, no foreboding of ill-omen, nothing but the calmness and purity of the heavens. In the marshes the tall grasses, still wet with the dews of night, are sparkling in the sun; dragon flies are hovering337 on their long, black-flecked wings; waterlilies are opening their large white calyces.
The heat is already oppressive; the horses stretch their necks to drink, their nostrils338 wide, sniffing339 the stagnant water. The spahis halt for a moment to[202] take counsel; they dismount in order to moisten their hats and bathe their foreheads.
Suddenly in the distance dull sounds are heard, like the noise of enormous drums all beaten simultaneously340.
“It is the big tom-toms,” said Sergeant Muller, who had some experience of negro warfare.
Instinctively341 all the men who had dismounted made for their horses.
But a black head had just raised itself above the herbage. An old Marabout had made with his skinny arm a grotesque signal, like a magic order addressed to the reeds of the marsh. A hail of lead showered down upon the spahis.
The shots, steadily342 and carefully aimed from the shelter of the ambuscade, had all told. Five or six horses had dropped. The remainder, startled and maddened, reared and threw their wounded riders. Jean, also, had sunk to the ground with a bullet through his loins. At the same time, thirty sinister faces emerged from the grass; thirty black demons343, covered with mud, bounded out, gnashing their white teeth like enraged344 monkeys.
O heroic combat, such as Homer might have sung, but which will remain unrecorded, unknown to fame, like so many of these far-away African frays345. The poor spahis, in their fight to the death, performed prodigies346 of strength and valour. Fighting had on them the infuriating effect, which it produces on all such as are brave by nature. They sold[203] their lives dearly, these men, all of whom were young, vigorous, and inured347 to war. In a few years they will be forgotten, even at St Louis. Who will ever mention their names, the names of those who fell in the land of Diambour, on the plains of Dialakar?
Meanwhile the sound of the great war-drums was drawing ever nearer.
Suddenly, while the mêlée was still proceeding348, the spahis saw as in a dream, a great company of negroes passing by over the hill; warriors half naked, covered with grigris, were doubling in the direction of Dialdé in disorderly hordes349. They had with them enormous war-drums, which four men together could hardly drag along. Their lean desert horses, seemingly full of fire and fury, were decked with tawdry harness, spangled with copper, their long tails and manes stained blood-red. It was a fantastic, demoniac procession, an African nightmare, swifter than the wind.
Boubakar-Ségou was passing.
He passed, paying no attention to the spahis, leaving them to the body of men who had lain in ambush352 for them, and were completing the work of exterminating353 them.
The spahis were being driven steadily back, away from the grass and water on to the arid sands, where a more overwhelming heat and an intenser glare would the sooner exhaust them.
[204]
No one had had time to reload. They fought with knives, sabres, nails, and teeth; there were many gaping354 wounds and bleeding bodies.
Two negroes had made a ferocious355 attack on Jean. He was stronger than they. In his fury he hurled356 them to earth time after time, but they always came back at him.
In the end his hands, slipping in blood, could no longer obtain a grip on the black, oily naked skins, and all the time his strength was ebbing357 because of his wounds.
He had a confused perception of these final impressions; his dead comrades, fallen by his side; the main body of the negro army ever hastening onwards, and now almost out of sight; handsome Muller near him, with the death rattle292 in his throat, and the blood pouring from his mouth; and further over, already at some distance, tall Nyaor cutting his way through towards Saldé, mowing358 a path with great sweeps of his sabre through a group of negroes.
And then three of them felled Jean to the ground, threw him on his side, holding his arms, while one of them pressed a large iron knife against his chest.
... For one terrifying moment of anguish Jean felt the pressure of this knife against his body. And there was not one human being to help him. All were dead, not a man was left.
The red cloth of his jacket, the coarse fabric359 of his soldier’s shirt, and his flesh formed a triple layer[205] which offered resistance, and the knife had been badly sharpened.
The negro leaned more heavily. Jean uttered a loud, hoarse360 cry, and of a sudden his side was pierced. The blade, with a horrible little sound of slicing, plunged into the depths of his chest. The negro turned it in the wound, then tore it out with both hands, and kicked away the body with his foot.
Jean was the last to fall. The black demons raised their shout of victory and ran on without a moment’s delay, speeding like the wind in pursuit of their army.
XXV
The main shock of the two armies took place further away, and was very bloody362, although little was heard of it in France.
These minor363 battles, fought in a country so remote, and engaging a comparatively small number of soldiers, escape the notice of the general public; only those remember them who have lost a son or a brother.
The little French force was wavering when Boubakar-Ségou received, almost point-blank, a charge of slugs in the right temple.
The brains of the negro chief were scattered364[206] abroad. To the sound of the tabala and the iron cymbals365 he fell, surrounded by his priests, and entangled366 in his long strings of amulets. For his tribes, his fall was the signal for retreat.
The negro army resumed its march towards the impenetrable tracts of the interior, and no obstacle was opposed to its flight. The French army, indeed, was no longer in any condition to pursue them.
The red head-band of the great rebel chief was brought back to St Louis. It was all singed367 and riddled368 with shot holes. A long festoon of talismans was suspended from it, consisting of little pouches369 covered with various sorts of embroidery370, and containing mysterious powders, cabalistic drawings, and prayers in the Maghreb tongue.
Boubakar-Ségou’s death produced a far-reaching moral effect upon the indigenous371 population. Inasmuch as the battle was followed by the submission372 of several insurgent373 chiefs, it might fairly be considered a victory.
The expeditionary force returned to St Louis immediately. Promotions374 and decorations were conferred on all the participators, but there were many gaps in the ranks of the poor spahis.
XXVI
Jean dragged himself under the scanty foliage of the tamarisks, sought a shady spot for his head, and disposed himself there to await death.
He suffered from thirst, burning thirst, and presently[207] his throat was convulsed by slight, spasmodic movements.
He had often witnessed the death of comrades in Africa, and he recognised this distressing indication of the approaching end, which people call the death sob141.
But his sufferings diminished. Indeed, apart from this burning thirst, he was now in little pain.
Strange visions passed before poor Jean’s eyes: the mountain range of the Cevennes, the well-known haunts of his childhood, his cottage in the mountains.
Above all he saw visions of leafy landscapes, full of shade, mosses376, coolness, and running water; his dear old mother, who took him gently by the hand to lead him as she had done in his childhood.
He felt his mother’s kiss! O, his mother, there she was, smoothing his brow with her poor old trembling hands, bathing his burning head with cool water. Could it be? Never more to feel a mother’s kiss, never more to hear her voice? Never, never more? Was this the end of everything? To die there alone, all alone, in the burning sun of the desert! And he half-raised himself, unwilling377 to die.
“Tjean, come into our dance!”
In front of him, like a whirlwind, like a furious gale378, swept the circle of phantom dancers. The fierce gyrations of this vortex seemed to strike sparks from the burning pebbles379.
[208]
And these spectral380 dancers, rising in swift spirals, like smoke before a rushing wind, faded away on high, in the fiery381 crucible382 of the blue ether.
Jean had the sensation of rising with them, of being borne aloft on terrible wings, and it came to him that this was the climax383, the very moment of death.
“Tjean, come into our dance.”
Thronging386 memories of childhood came to life again in his mind, with singular clearness. He heard an old folksong, wherewith his mother used to lull312 him to sleep when he was a baby in his cradle; then suddenly, in the midst of the desert, the village chime rang out the evening Angelus.
Tears coursed down his bronzed cheeks. The prayers of long ago returned to his memory, and the poor soldier set himself to praying with the fervour of a child. He took between his hands the medal of the Virgin387, which his mother had hung round his neck. He still had sufficient strength to raise it to his lips, and he kissed it with immeasurable love. He prayed with all his soul to Our Lady of Sorrows, to whom his simple-minded mother was wont388 to pray on his behalf each evening. He was steeped in the splendour[209] of those radiant hallucinations that surround a deathbed; and aloud, in the overwhelming silence of these solitudes, he repeated, in a fast-failing voice, the inevitable389 adieu, “Farewell, farewell, until we meet in heaven.”
It was close on noon. Jean’s sufferings were diminishing. The desert in the intense tropical light seemed to him like a great brasier of white fire which no longer had power to burn him. And yet his bosom heaved as if to breathe more deeply; his mouth opened as if to plead for water.
At last his lower jaw390 dropped; his mouth fell open for the last time, and Jean passed peacefully away in the dazzling sunshine.
XXVII
When Fatou-gaye returned from the village of the great Marabout, bringing with her a mysterious article in a leather wallet, the women of the friendly tribe informed her that the battle was over.
Anxious, panting, exhausted, she made her way back to camp, hastening with feverish10 step over the hot sand, and carrying on her back her still-sleeping baby, wrapped in a piece of blue cloth.
The first person she met was the Mussulman, Nyaor-fall, the black spahi, who, as she approached, looked at her gravely, telling the beads391 of his long Maghreb rosary.
[210]
In the language of the country, she jerked out the words,
“Where is he?”
With a restrained gesture, Nyaor stretched his arm towards the south of Diambour, the open plains of Dialakar.
“Yonder!” ... said he. “He has gained Paradise.” ...
XXVIII
All day long Fatou-gaye traversed with feverish step thickets392 and sand, still carrying her sleeping baby on her back. She went to and fro, sometimes breaking into a run, with the distracted movements of a pantheress that has lost her young. Ever she pursued her search under the burning sun, exploring the thickets, groping in the thorny393 brushwood.
About three in the afternoon, as she was crossing an arid plain, she caught sight of a dead horse, then of a red jacket, then another, and yet another.... It was the scene of the defeat. It was there that the spahis had fallen....
Here and there a sparse394 growth of mimosas and tamarisks cast upon the yellow soil slender shadows, sun-chequered....
In the remote distance, at the end of this vast plain, the skyline of a village of pointed395 huts could be seen against the deep blue of the horizon.
Fatou-gaye had halted, trembling and terrified....[211] She had recognised him, Jean, yonder, stretched out in the sun, with stiffened396 arms and open mouth. She muttered some obscure, heathen invocation and touched the grigris round her ebony neck.
With haggard, bloodshot eyes, she stood there a long time, muttering softly to herself....
From afar she caught sight of some old women of the enemy tribe, who were making for the corpses398, and a horrible surmise399 flashed upon her....
These hideous400 old negresses, their skins glistening401 under the tropic sun, diffused402 an acrid403 odour of soumaré. With a jingling404 of grigris and beads they approached the young soldiers. They stirred them with their feet; as they desecrated405 them with obscene touch they laughed and uttered mocking ejaculations, resembling the gibbering of monkeys. They profaned406 these corpses with gruesome buffoonery....
And then they stripped them of their gilt407 buttons, which they stuck in their frizzled hair; they took from them their steel spurs, their red jackets, their belts....
Fatou-gaye was crouching behind her clump251 of brushwood, holding herself back, like a cat about to spring. When it came to Jean’s turn, she leaped out, her nails in readiness, uttering cries like a wild beast, and reviling408 the negro women in a strange tongue....
And the baby, who had woken up, clung to the back of his raging, terrifying mother....
The negro women were afraid and drew back....
Besides, their arms were full enough of booty, and[212] they thought they could come back again on the morrow. They exchanged some words, which Fatou could not understand, and took their departure, turning round, however, to insult her with savage409 laughter and the mocking gestures of chimpanzees.
When Fatou-gaye was alone, she crouched410 close to Jean and called him by his name. Three times she cried, “Tjean! Tjean! Tjean!” in shrill411 tones, which echoed in these solitudes like the voice of a priestess of old who invokes412 the dead....
There she lay, crouching under the implacable African sun, with unseeing gaze fixed413 on the distance on the parched and desolate landscape. She was afraid to turn her eyes on Jean’s face.
The vultures swooped414 down insolently415 towards her, beating the heavy air with their great dark pinions416....
Fatou-gaye caught sight of the medal of the Virgin in the spahi’s hand, and understood that he had been praying when death came to him. She, too, had medals of the Virgin and a scapulary among the grigris round her neck. She had been baptised by Catholic priests at St Louis, but it was not in them that she put her trust.
She took a leather amulet, which formerly418 in the land of Galam a negro woman, her mother had given her. This was the fetish she loved, and she kissed it with ardour.
[213]
Then she bent over Jean’s body and raised his head.
Blue flies kept coming out from his open mouth, between his white teeth, and from the wounds in his thorax trickled419 a fluid already fetid.
XXIX
Then she seized her baby with the intention of strangling him.
Nor could she bear to see his little face in the paroxysms of suffocation421. Frenziedly she dug a hole in the ground, buried his head in it, and heaped more sand upon it.
Then she gripped his neck with her two hands and squeezed it—squeezed it hard, until his active little limbs, which were stiffening422 under the influence of pain, were relaxed in death.
When the child was dead, she laid him on his father’s bosom.
So died the son of Jean Peyral.... A mystery! What god had thrust him into life, the spahi’s child? What had he come to seek on this earth, and whither did he return?
Then Fatou-gaye wept tears of blood—her piercing lamentations echoed over the plains of Dialakar. And last of all, she took the Marabout’s leather wallet and swallowed a bitter paste contained therein.[214] Her death throes began, a lingering and cruel agony. For a long time she lay in the sunlight shaken by death rattle and death sob; she tore her throat with her nails, and plucked out handfuls of hair mingled with amber423.
Round her were the vultures, awaiting her last moment.
XXX
When the yellow sun set over the plains of Diambour, her struggles were over; her death agony at an end.
She lay, stretched out upon Jean’s body, clasping with rigid424 arms her dead son. Hot and starry425, the first night of their death descended upon them—bringing with it the saturnalia of wild life, with its hushed mysterious beginning, in every corner of this sombre continent of Africa.
That same evening, in that far country at the foot of the Cevennes, Jeanne’s wedding procession was passing in front of the cottage of the old Peyrals.
XXXI
APOTHEOSIS
At first it is heard as a distant moaning, rising from the furthest limits of the desert; then the gruesome chorus approaches through the luminous[215] obscurity: the doleful howling of jackals, the piercing wails426 of hyenas427 and tiger-cats.
Poor mother, poor old woman!... This human form, vaguely428 discernible in the darkness, lying in the midst of these solitudes, its mouth gaping under a sky all strewn with stars, sleeping there at a time when the wild beasts awake—this form which will never rise again—poor mother, poor old woman!... this corpse397 that lies forsaken is your son!...
“Jean, come into our dance.”
The ravenous429 pack glides430 softly through the night, stealing through the thickets, creeping among the lofty grasses. By the light of the stars they fall upon the corpses of the young soldiers, and begin the repast, which has been ordained431 by blind nature. All that is alive draws its nourishment432, in one form or another, from that which has died.
The man ever grasps in his dead hand the medal of the Virgin, the woman her leather grigris. Watch well over them, O precious amulets.
To-morrow, great, bald-headed vultures will carry on the work of destruction—the bones of the dead will be strewn upon the sand, scattered hither and thither433 by the beasts of the desert—their skulls will bleach126 in the sun, to be the sport of winds and grasshoppers434.
Aged parents by the chimney corner, aged parents in your cottage; father, bowed under the weight of years, you who dream of your son, the handsome young soldier in his red jacket—aged mother! you who pray each evening for the absent one—aged parents, long will you await your son, long await the spahi!
The End
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1
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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6
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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7
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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8
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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9
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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10
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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feverishness
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adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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15
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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16
ration
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| n.定量(pl.)给养，口粮；vt.定量供应 | |
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17
tablecloths
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| n.桌布，台布( tablecloth的名词复数 ) | |
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earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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19
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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20
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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21
craftsmen
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| n. 技工 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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25
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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27
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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28
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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29
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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30
prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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31
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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32
remonstrances
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| n.抱怨，抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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33
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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34
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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35
vowing
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的现在分词形式） | |
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36
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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37
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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38
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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39
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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40
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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41
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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42
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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43
betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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44
underlay
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| v.位于或存在于（某物）之下( underlie的过去式 )；构成…的基础（或起因），引起n.衬垫物 | |
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45
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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46
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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47
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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48
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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49
undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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50
atheistic
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| adj.无神论者的 | |
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51
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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52
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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53
tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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54
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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55
inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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56
apotheosis
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| n.神圣之理想；美化；颂扬 | |
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57
omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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58
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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59
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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60
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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61
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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62
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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63
disillusion
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| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
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64
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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65
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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66
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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67
enervated
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| adj.衰弱的，无力的v.使衰弱，使失去活力( enervate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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69
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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70
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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71
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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72
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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73
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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74
amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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75
reprehensible
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| adj.该受责备的 | |
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76
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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77
bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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78
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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79
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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80
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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81
caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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82
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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83
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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84
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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85
ostriches
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| n.鸵鸟( ostrich的名词复数 )；逃避现实的人，不愿正视现实者 | |
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86
ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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87
strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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88
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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90
siesta
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| n.午睡 | |
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91
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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92
piously
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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93
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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94
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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95
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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96
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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97
consummated
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| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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moorish
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| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
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99
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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100
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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101
lizards
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| n.蜥蜴( lizard的名词复数 ) | |
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102
infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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103
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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104
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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105
strata
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| n.地层（复数）；社会阶层 | |
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106
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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107
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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108
intensify
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| vt.加强；变强；加剧 | |
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109
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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110
anomalous
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| adj.反常的；不规则的 | |
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111
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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112
wreak
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| v.发泄；报复 | |
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113
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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114
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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115
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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116
haphazard
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| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
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117
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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118
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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119
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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120
exhausted
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|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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121
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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122
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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123
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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124
inscriptions
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| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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125
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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126
bleach
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| vt.使漂白；vi.变白；n.漂白剂 | |
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127
bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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128
unearthed
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| 出土的（考古） | |
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129
aridity
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| n.干旱，乏味；干燥性；荒芜 | |
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130
arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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131
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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132
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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133
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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134
funereal
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|
| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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135
mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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136
pelicans
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| n.鹈鹕( pelican的名词复数 ) | |
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137
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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138
mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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139
weird
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|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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140
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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141
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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142
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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143
warships
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| 军舰，战舰( warship的名词复数 )； 舰只 | |
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144
embarkation
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| n. 乘船, 搭机, 开船 | |
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145
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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146
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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147
bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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148
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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149
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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150
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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151
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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152
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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153
everlastingly
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| 永久地，持久地 | |
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154
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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155
solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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156
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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157
embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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158
vessels
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|
| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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159
decided
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|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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160
deign
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| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
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161
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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162
regain
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|
| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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163
confided
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|
| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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164
thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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165
kindly
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|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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166
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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167
plunged
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|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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168
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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169
tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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170
mangrove
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|
| n.(植物)红树，红树林 | |
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171
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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172
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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173
sluggish
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|
| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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174
pertaining
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| 与…有关系的，附属…的，为…固有的(to) | |
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175
perfectly
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|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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176
scanty
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|
| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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177
ERECTED
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|
| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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178
tattered
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|
| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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179
aged
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|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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180
amulet
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| n.护身符 | |
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181
amulets
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| n.护身符( amulet的名词复数 ) | |
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182
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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183
unlimited
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|
| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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184
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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185
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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186
conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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187
delusive
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|
| adj.欺骗的，妄想的 | |
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188
elusive
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|
| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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189
shimmered
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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190
caravans
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| （可供居住的）拖车（通常由机动车拖行）( caravan的名词复数 )； 篷车； （穿过沙漠地带的）旅行队（如商队） | |
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191
respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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192
parching
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|
| adj.烘烤似的，焦干似的v.（使）焦干， （使）干透( parch的现在分词 )；使（某人）极口渴 | |
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193
awnings
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| 篷帐布 | |
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194
arabesques
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|
| n.阿拉伯式花饰( arabesque的名词复数 )；错综图饰；阿拉伯图案；阿拉贝斯克芭蕾舞姿（独脚站立，手前伸，另一脚一手向后伸） | |
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195
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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196
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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197
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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198
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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199
scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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200
frisky
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|
| adj.活泼的，欢闹的；n.活泼，闹着玩；adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
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201
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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202
tawny
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|
| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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203
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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204
fissured
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| adj.裂缝的v.裂开( fissure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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205
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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206
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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207
citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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208
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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209
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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210
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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211
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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212
millet
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| n.小米，谷子 | |
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213
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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214
lustreless
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| adj.无光泽的，无光彩的，平淡乏味的 | |
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215
variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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216
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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217
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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218
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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219
precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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220
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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221
impure
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| adj.不纯净的，不洁的；不道德的，下流的 | |
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222
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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223
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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224
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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225
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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226
abjectly
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| 凄惨地； 绝望地； 糟透地； 悲惨地 | |
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227
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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228
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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229
flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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230
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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231
latitudes
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| 纬度 | |
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232
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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233
bead
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| n.念珠；(pl.)珠子项链；水珠 | |
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234
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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235
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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236
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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237
hippopotamus
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| n.河马 | |
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238
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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239
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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240
ruses
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| n.诡计，计策( ruse的名词复数 ) | |
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241
importunity
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| n.硬要，强求 | |
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242
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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243
lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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244
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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245
confluence
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| n.汇合，聚集 | |
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246
tributary
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| n.支流；纳贡国；adj.附庸的；辅助的；支流的 | |
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247
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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248
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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249
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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250
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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251
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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252
fauna
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| n.(一个地区或时代的)所有动物，动物区系 | |
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253
triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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254
denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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255
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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256
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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257
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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258
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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259
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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260
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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261
muzzles
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| 枪口( muzzle的名词复数 )； （防止动物咬人的）口套； （四足动物的）鼻口部； （狗）等凸出的鼻子和口 | |
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262
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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263
torpid
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| adj.麻痹的，麻木的，迟钝的 | |
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264
antediluvian
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| adj.史前的，陈旧的 | |
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265
primitive
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|
| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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266
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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267
mammoth
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| n.长毛象；adj.长毛象似的，巨大的 | |
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268
quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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269
insouciance
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| n.漠不关心 | |
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270
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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271
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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272
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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273
vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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274
contagion
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| n.(通过接触的疾病)传染；蔓延 | |
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275
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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276
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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277
prehistoric
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| adj.（有记载的）历史以前的，史前的，古老的 | |
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278
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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279
bleating
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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280
yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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281
suppliant
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|
| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
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282
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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283
delightful
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|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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284
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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285
sinister
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|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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286
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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287
peals
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| n.（声音大而持续或重复的）洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 )；隆隆声；洪亮的钟声；钟乐v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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288
chubby
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|
| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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289
luminous
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|
| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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290
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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291
rattles
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| （使）发出格格的响声， （使）作嘎嘎声( rattle的第三人称单数 )； 喋喋不休地说话； 迅速而嘎嘎作响地移动，堕下或走动； 使紧张，使恐惧 | |
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292
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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293
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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294
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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295
engulfed
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|
| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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296
revolving
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|
| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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297
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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298
transparent
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|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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299
revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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300
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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301
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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302
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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303
backwards
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|
| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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304
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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305
flutes
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|
| 长笛( flute的名词复数 )； 细长香槟杯（形似长笛） | |
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306
muffled
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|
| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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307
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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308
postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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309
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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310
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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311
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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312
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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313
exhortations
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| n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 )；极力推荐；（正式的）演讲；（宗教仪式中的）劝诫 | |
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314
reclaimed
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|
| adj.再生的；翻造的；收复的；回收的v.开拓( reclaim的过去式和过去分词 )；要求收回；从废料中回收（有用的材料）；挽救 | |
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315
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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316
rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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317
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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318
languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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319
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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320
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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321
talismans
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|
| n.护身符( talisman的名词复数 )；驱邪物；有不可思议的力量之物；法宝 | |
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322
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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323
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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324
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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325
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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326
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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327
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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328
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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329
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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330
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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331
pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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332
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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333
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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334
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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335
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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336
presage
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| n.预感，不祥感；v.预示 | |
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337
hovering
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|
| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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338
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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339
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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340
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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341
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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342
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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343
demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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344
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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345
frays
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| n.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的名词复数 )v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的第三人称单数 ) | |
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346
prodigies
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| n.奇才，天才（尤指神童）( prodigy的名词复数 ) | |
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347
inured
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| adj.坚强的，习惯的 | |
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348
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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349
hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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350
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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351
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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352
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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353
exterminating
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| v.消灭，根绝( exterminate的现在分词 ) | |
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354
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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355
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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356
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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357
ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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358
mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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359
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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360
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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361
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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362
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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363
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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364
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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365
cymbals
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| pl.铙钹 | |
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366
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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367
singed
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| v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
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368
riddled
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| adj.布满的；充斥的；泛滥的v.解谜，出谜题(riddle的过去分词形式) | |
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369
pouches
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| n.（放在衣袋里或连在腰带上的）小袋( pouch的名词复数 )；（袋鼠等的）育儿袋；邮袋；（某些动物贮存食物的）颊袋 | |
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370
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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371
indigenous
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| adj.土产的，土生土长的，本地的 | |
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372
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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373
insurgent
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| adj.叛乱的，起事的；n.叛乱分子 | |
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374
promotions
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| 促进( promotion的名词复数 )； 提升； 推广； 宣传 | |
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375
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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376
mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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377
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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378
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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379
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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380
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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381
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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382
crucible
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| n.坩锅，严酷的考验 | |
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383
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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384
gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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385
abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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386
thronging
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
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387
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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388
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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389
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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390
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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391
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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392
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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393
thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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394
sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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395
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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396
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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397
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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398
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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399
surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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400
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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401
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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402
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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403
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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404
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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405
desecrated
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| 毁坏或亵渎( desecrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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406
profaned
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| v.不敬( profane的过去式和过去分词 )；亵渎，玷污 | |
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407
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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408
reviling
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的现在分词 ) | |
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409
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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410
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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411
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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412
invokes
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| v.援引( invoke的第三人称单数 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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413
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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414
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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415
insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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416
pinions
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的第三人称单数 ) | |
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417
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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418
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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419
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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420
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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421
suffocation
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| n.窒息 | |
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422
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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423
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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424
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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425
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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426
wails
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| 痛哭，哭声( wail的名词复数 ) | |
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427
hyenas
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| n.鬣狗( hyena的名词复数 ) | |
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428
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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429
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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430
glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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431
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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432
nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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433
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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434
grasshoppers
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| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
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