About five o'clock on the following morning, just as the caravan was about to get under way, Nassar came up to MM. de Morin and Delange.
"The Queen," said he, "has not gone back to her country. By dint of walking all night she has just overtaken us, and is hiding down below there, behind a rock."
"Poor woman!" M. Delange could not help saying.
"You pity her?" said M. de Morin.
"Certainly, I pity her," and, he added in a lower tone, "I pity her as one pities a faithful dog chased away by his master."
"You forget that this dog bit its master. It was not even content with biting, but sprang upon him open-mouthed."
"Yes, but now that its rage and anger, both inspired by jealousy, have passed away, the dog has repented, and returns with drooping ears to its master's dwelling. It seeks him, moaning and whining, fawns upon him, and refuses to be driven away. It will not bite him again, you may be quite sure."
"I agree with you; but it will bite those who have replaced it in its master's affections, and usurped its place by his fireside."
M. de Morin turned to Nassar, and said—
"This woman must be got rid of at all hazards. I do not want to see her any more."
"How am I to carry out your orders?" replied Nassar. "When my men threaten her with the butt ends of their lances she does not appear to see them, and if they throw stones at her she does not seem to feel them."
"I warned you," said Delange to M. de Morin. "The simplest plan after all would have been to have kept her here in the midst of us, bound hand and foot."
"No, it was not the simplest plan," replied M. de Morin, impatiently, "and I have already told you why. This creature can no longer, with any propriety, form part of Madame de Guéran's caravan. Look here!" he added in an undertone, and rather unsteadily, "if I only were to consult my own interest, I should take very good care that the Baroness should always be seeing her. Her husband is rapidly improving physically, and to get rid of him morally would be quite fair, in which case Walinda would be of considerable use to me. But neither Périères nor I, as you may well understand, would ever dream of having recourse to such means; we despise such weapons, and, once for all, I will not allow our Sultana to run the risk of setting eyes on your Venus in ebony."
"Have her put to death then."
"I shall very possibly have to do that in order to prevent her killing others; but, for mercy's sake, do not drive me to that extremity. Find some means of getting rid of this woman. I assure you that she is dangerous, and the responsibility which falls upon me, as leader of the expedition, positively appals me."
When M. de Morin had taken himself off, M. Delange allowed the caravan to pass on, and took his place in the rearmost rank so as to be able to watch all Walinda's movements.
She appeared in sight first of all from behind the rock pointed out by Nassar. She was looking about her in evident fear, and no longer had the pride and assurance so conspicuous in her in days gone by. Then she was lost to view again. She was, doubtless, endeavouring to hide herself behind the inequalities of the ground, amongst the shrubs and briars, and instead of walking she was creeping, so as not to be seen.
In the afternoon the caravan had to go down the side of a mountain, too rocky and precipitous to afford even an appearance of vegetation. The road along the smooth and slippery granite was perfectly exposed to view, there was absolutely no foothold, and not a single tuft of grass nor loose stone met the eye.
Then the Queen was once more seen on the top of the mountain just left by the caravan; she was following, step by step, at a distance of about fifty yards, the route taken by the escort. On she came, with head erect and firm, unyielding tread. She had no stick to aid her steps; she was entirely naked, illumined by the sunlight, and her coloured skin, red rather than brown, stood out in bold contrast with the grey and gloomy mountain side. When she stood still she might well have been taken for a splendid statue in terra cotta, life size and fixed in the rock.
The whole caravan could see her, and from time to time a soldier, or a bearer, would stop to contemplate her.
At the foot of the mountain they had just past, vegetation began to reappear, and presently isolated trees took the place of shrubs, to be followed by extensive forests. The shores of Lake Albert were at hand.
Walinda could now hide herself again, and she was no more seen until the evening.
When night came on a halt was made, and the soldiers, after having lighted fires to cook their evening meal and warm themselves, lay down and were soon asleep.
M. Delange remained awake; he felt that the protection he was endeavouring to extend to Walinda threw upon him a heavy responsibility. He could not help occasionally sharing the fears of his friend, and, distrusting the vigilance of the sentries, he kept a sharp look out over the neighbourhood of the camp.
Towards midnight he saw Walinda once more. She was, doubtless, cold, and she quietly, with stealthy steps, approached one of the fires of the bivouac.
As soon as she reached it she began to warm herself, and when she had succeeded in doing that, never suspecting that any one was watching her, she crept on her hands and knees within the camp.
What was she going to do? What plan had she conceived? Did she intend to glide to the tent where Madame de Guéran was sleeping?
He remained silent and motionless, but ready to interfere should need be.
But the Queen, on that particular night, was not under the influence of any passion; she was neither thinking of her lost love, nor of vengeance. She was simply seeking to satisfy the hunger which was torturing her.
In a moment of anger she had hurled down the abyss the provisions handed over to her, and now, famished, mastered by instinct and not by pride, she was prowling round the camp in search of nourishment, seeking, near the smouldering embers, a few scraps of food, a forgotten grain or two of eleusine, some sorghum roots, or a bone to gnaw.
Having satisfied the pangs of hunger, she withdrew from the camp, and hurried off to hide herself in the neighbouring woods.
On the following day nobody saw her. M. Delange in vain looked through his telescope at every spot of high ground where she could possibly appear, as well as at all the paths she could have chosen in order to follow the caravan.
"She has taken it into her head to return to her own country," saidM. de Morin.
"I am more inclined to think that she has taken it into her head to die," replied the doctor.
Miss Poles was close to the speakers, and the remark of M. Delange roused her at once.
"Die!" said she. "Die! You talk about it quietly enough, and you do her honour enough and to spare. The idea of suicide presupposes a certain amount of self-will and intelligence, and this creature possesses nothing but animal instinct. Animals do not kill themselves; consult the naturalists."
"I have no need to consult them. Miss Poles," replied M. Delange, "to tell you that you are mistaken. An animal will not poison itself of its own free will, nor will it drown itself, nor will it break its own neck—all that I admit. But dogs have been known to allow themselves to die of hunger after the death of their masters."
"The dogs you refer to," said Miss Poles, with great acerbity, "had lived in the society of civilized people."
"Do you mean me to infer from that remark that M. de Guéran is not civilized?"
"I do not understand how M. de Guéran enters into the argument."
"But Walinda has lived in his society, and it appears to me—"
"I have not the least desire to know what appears to you. I merely maintain that this female savage is not a woman."
* * * * *
M. Delange awaited nightfall impatiently. He thought it probable that Walinda would approach the caravan, as on the previous evening, to warm herself and pick up the crumbs of the evening meal. But the sentries, kept awake by a keen north wind, were, for once, on the alert. The Queen did not put in an appearance, and the fears expressed by the doctor seemed likely to be realized. The unhappy creature would die of cold and hunger in some cleft in the mountain.
The thought worried him; he tried to sleep, but he could not even doze. Towards three o'clock in the morning he thought he heard a wailing sound in the distance. He pricked up his ears and listened.
The sound seemed to draw nearer; it became more distinct, and was repeated by the echoes of the mountain.
It was mournful in the extreme, and did not in the least resemble the cry of a human being. It was more like the prolonged howl of a wounded animal, or the baying of a dog at death.
The sentries listened in fear and uneasiness, and M. Delange had to get up and reassure them. Then, unattended, he entered into a neighbouring wood, where he thought he might find Walinda. Convinced that the wailing proceeded from her, he was anxious to succour her.
He did not see a living thing, and at daylight the sound ceased.
Thereupon he bent his steps towards the tent where Madame de Guéran had passed the night.
He knew that the Baroness was always the first to rise, and he hoped to be able to speak to her before anybody could appear to interrupt their conversation.
M. Delange was not mistaken; Madame de Guéran had opened the doorway of her tent at dawn of day. As soon as she saw the doctor she went quickly towards him and, holding out her hand, said affectionately—
"So early! Then you have something to say to me. I am delighted, for I, also, for some days past, have had something to say to you, and you have never been near me."
"I feared to be in the way," said he.
"How could that possibly be?" she replied quickly. "Do you think that I have forgotten our long conversation one night on the mountain, just before we entered the southern provinces? You were not afraid of being in the way on that evening, and you probed my poor heart as if you had that terrible scalpel of yours in your hand. I have never borne you any ill-will for that, my dear doctor, as you know full well. On the contrary, from that very time I have inscribed your name on the list of my best friends, and that is the reason why, having sinned against friendship, I want to beg your pardon to-day."
"What sin have you committed, my dear penitent?"
"I agreed," she replied, "to your yielding your place to yourconfrère. I have allowed Dr. Desrioux to attend almost exclusively upon my husband."
"I was anxious that it should be so. You had not seen Desrioux for a long time, and I effaced myself so as to allow you to be often with him and hear all he had to say."
"Do you imagine," she exclaimed, "that he has spoken of his love?"
"There was no necessity for him to speak. He proved it to you by coming after you."
"And do you think," she continued, "that I can still now—"
She stopped; she dared not go on.
He put her thought into words.
"Do you think I can still love him? is what you wished to say. Yes, I do think so; I am convinced of it. You love him, and you do not any longer love your husband."
"It is untrue! It is untrue," she said, hiding her face in her hands.
"It is true," he replied. "You know very well that it is true, and you are suffering more than ever. It is simply my conviction on this score which has caused me no longer to attend upon your husband."
"I do not understand you," said she in amazement.
"I would not have you say to yourself," he replied boldly, "that he owed his recovery to me, and I would not have you reproach me for your unhappiness."
"Oh, how can you say so?"
"I would have watched over him and saved him if Desrioux had not come. But he could replace me and I preferred to disappear. It is his business to effect this cure. His large heart and unselfish disposition will in it find their proper work. His love will profit, too, by it, for you will only love him the more for the self-denial he displays, and the self-immolation to which his professional honour and his conscience condemn him."
The camp showed signs of returning to life, and the solitude enjoyed by M. Delange and Madame de Guéran was on the point of being interfered with.
"In a few moments," said the doctor hurriedly, "our conversation will be interrupted. Do let me say a few words to you."
"Do so by all means. You are right; I had forgotten that you had something to say to me. What is the matter, my friend?"
"I am come to ask you to use your influence with M. de Morin to put an end to a persecution which worries me in spite of myself."
"A persecution!" she exclaimed. "Has M. de Morin been persecuting anybody in the caravan? Impossible? He is so good, so just—"
"You misunderstand me; he is not persecuting anybody. But, in consequence of an order he has thought fit to issue, and which, I admit, he had every right to give, a certain being is at this moment suffering—dying, perhaps."
"Good heavens? What are you saying? Why did you not tell me of this before? My negligence is, perhaps, to blame. Yes, since our departure from Cairo I have always attended to the sick and wounded in the caravan and protected the weak, but now I am neglecting all my duties."
"I am not referring to any member of the caravan," said the doctor. "Nobody amongst us lacks either care or protection. I am speaking of an unhappy woman who persists in following us. She is one who is unworthy of all our pity, but at the same time one whom you have both the right and the will to save."
"Who is it?"
"Our enemy, Walinda."
"What! Is she here?"
"No; but she is close by. At least, I hope so."
He explained, as briefly as possible, to the Baroness the urgent reasons which had compelled the Europeans to convey the Queen to some distance from her country.
"It was the right thing to do," she said. "This woman might have proved formidable to the Monbuttoos, and we were bound to protect our former allies."
Delange then informed her of the no less urgent reasons which had actuated M. de Morin in ordering Walinda to be set at liberty.
"For my sake!" exclaimed the Baroness. "It is to avoid wounding my susceptibilities that this course has been pursued, and this woman has been driven away! It is simply madness," continued Madame de Guéran, growing warm. "Do you imagine that I have paid any attention to her, or have ever seen her? Do you fancy for one moment that I should do her the honour of regarding her as an enemy and fearing her? Why should I have any grudge against her, I should like to know?" she added sarcastically. "What has she done that is not quite natural? What crime has she committed? She was quite comfortable in her dominions, when one day it pleased a European to enter her kingdom, in the face of all warnings and threats. He was young and handsome, and, above all, a white man; she had never seen any people of his complexion; she was astonished and dazzled, then she was touched, grew enthusiastic, and ended by loving the stranger. He, for his part, he, a married man, but one of those men who think nothing of stray amours, he, I say, also fell in love with this beautiful creature, and was contented to bask in her smiles. Then his wife, the other woman, she who had stayed in France to lament his absence, she conceives the idea of erecting a tomb far away in Africa for the defunct, but instead of a corpse, she finds a living man, rather annoyed, perhaps, at being disturbed and discovered in his illicit domicile. A feeling of shame, however, drives him to make an attempt to join, if not his wife, at all events those friends who have come from so great a distance to his rescue. But the African woman is jealous; she does not care about being thrown on one side for the sake of the new comer, and she runs after her prisoner. He has an axe, he could defend himself, he could kill her, but he does nothing of the kind, he is afraid of hurting her. She has no such consideration for him; she seizes him, hurls him to the ground, and half murders him. According to the standard of morality in these countries she is right; was he not her prisoner, her slave, her property, her chattel? Would our laws even condemn her? Was he not armed? Could he not have resisted? And I am supposed to have a grudge against this woman? I am not so unjust. I can see her without suffering from the sight! If M. de Guéran had died of his wounds, I will not say but that I should have looked upon certain things with a more indulgent eye, and perhaps it would have been necessary to banish from my sight his—murderess. But he is being cured rapidly. He will soon be up and about again, and when he does come to life, I should not like him to see his fondly loved—African suffering, and at death's door. I see M. de Morin, and I wish to speak to him."
Madame de Guéran, as a rule, so calm and self-possessed, had gradually roused herself to a state of excitement as she thus gave vent to the bitterness of her spirit. Her voice had quite a novel tone, and her look an unwonted fire, as she launched forth this accusation against M. de Guéran, and overwhelmed him with her complaints, as if to justify herself in her own eyes for not feeling towards him as she had formerly felt.
A few moments later on M. de Morin came to the doctor.
"You are a pretty fellow, you are," said he, laughing, "to complain to the Baroness about your commanding officer, and retail his orders. Very well, my dear sir, run after your Venus, and give her a snug corner at our shifting fireside. But, if misfortune comes of it, in strict justice do not hold me responsible."
As the sun rose in the horizon and the caravan was making ready to start, M. Delange, followed by Nassar and three or four of the shrewdest Nubians, set to work to seek for the Queen. They remained concealed in the wood until the caravan had disappeared from view, thinking that Walinda would only await its departure to emerge from her hiding place, and, after devouring the scraps left behind in the abandoned camp, set off once more in pursuit.
Their calculations were quite correct. A quarter of an hour had not elapsed before they saw the Queen creep out of a dense thicket, and, under the impression that she was alone, advance towards where they were. As soon as they thought she could not escape them, they rushed upon her all at once, surrounded her, and took possession of her after a slight resistance.
Then, whilst she remained in fear and trembling, motionless on the spot where the Nubians had, so to speak, pinned her, Nassar explained to her that, so far from anybody wishing to do her harm, she would in future be permitted to live in the midst of the caravan. On receiving this piece of news, her eyes, dimmed by suffering and fatigue, brightened, the blood surged up to her cheeks, and she seemed overjoyed at being once more a prisoner.
Food was given to her, and she seized upon it with avidity, retiring into a corner and eating until her hunger was appeased. That operation over, she returned to her captors, and herself held out her arms to be fettered. Delange did not feel justified in omitting this formality, for, though the fears of his friend de Morin appeared to him to be exaggerated, he felt bound to pay some attention to them. The prisoner and her escort speedily overtook the caravan, and were lost in its midst.
On the same day they descended the last slopes of the Blue Mountains, and gained Lake Albert. The spot they reached was within two miles of the one from which MM. Desrioux and de Pommerelle had started. A dozen Beluchs, sent out as scouts, perceived their comrades, for whom they had been waiting for the last three weeks on the shores of the lake. They met and fraternized, and the Europeans of the de Guéran expedition experienced a real pleasure in tasting the good things brought from France by MM. de Pommerelle and Desrioux. Explorers who have for a long time suffered from privation, alone can understand this kind of substantial gratification.
A week's rest was granted to the three united caravans, and nobody asked for more. When, as often happens, a European traveller is compelled by his escort to make a longer stay than he wishes in any one place, it is because the country through which he is passing, or the village where he has halted, does not offer any attraction to either the soldiers or his bearers. The western shore of Lake Albert certainly does not present any feature of interest to beings insensible to the beauties of Nature, and, consequently, all these people were desirous of reaching, as soon as possible, the less deserted districts.
This rest was more appreciated by the Europeans than by their escort. After so much excitement and fatigue, they had a pressing need of rest and the opportunity of recruiting their strength. The calm of the surrounding scene, the blue water which appeared to be lulled to sleep at their feet, and the fresh and smiling country, refreshed their jaded minds and calmed their over-excited nerves, whilst at the same time their limbs, wearied by forced marches, recovered their wonted suppleness in the cooling waters of the Albert-Nyanza.
M. de Guéran, especially, could not fail to benefit from this interval of rest; the mountain air, the change of climate, and the comparatively speaking, fresh air following on the equatorial heat of Ulindi, did him a world of good. The fever, though it did not leave him altogether, gave him a respite of whole days, his weakness decreased sensibly, and the fears entertained by M. Desrioux, that an affection of the brain would supervene, were completely set at rest. But, in spite of all his care and the general solicitude, the wounded man had suffered cruelly during his ten days journey through the mountains. His hammock had more than once struck against obstacles on the road, and his wounds, which would have healed over, had he been at rest, were still open. Now, lying on a camp bedstead near the shore, under the shade of a tamarind tree, and far from the noise of the caravan, he was in a fair way to recovery. Under the pretext, a very good one, by-the-way, that he should make no effort to think, and that his brain should enjoy absolute rest, he was not allowed to speak to anybody, Madame de Guéran even avoiding any sustained conversation with him.
The rest and idleness on the shore of the lake might, possibly, have been prolonged in the interests of the convalescent, had there not been a general wish to leave Africa before the commencement of the rainy season, and, above all, to reach Gondokoro before the general exodus of the boats, which takes place in March and April. Three months had still to elapse before the arrival of that period, and, according to all calculations, a few weeks would suffice to gain the last station on the Nile, but in Africa a considerable margin must always be allowed for accidents and eventualities of all kinds.
The expedition, therefore, set out once more on the 2nd January, 1874. For several days it journeyed, at the rate of about fifteen miles per diem, along the western shore of Lake Albert. As it advanced northwards, the lake became narrower, and presently the eastern side and the most trivial details of the country there could be distinctly seen without the aid of a telescope. The caravan might easily have imagined that it was on the bank of a large river if the maps had not made it clear that the sheet of water terminated in a point.
But, a few days afterwards, a river, instead of a lake, was in view.
"It is the Nile," said M. de Morin. "It flows out of the Albert-Nyanza, according to the records of Speke, Grant, and Baker. We have only to follow it and we shall reach Gondokoro by the territory of the Madis, Baris, and Latookas, and the valley of Ellyria."
"I fancy you are mistaken, my dear fellow," replied Dr. Desrioux. "The Nile, as far as I have been able to ascertain, flows from W.S.W. to N.E. The river before us, on the contrary, is running westwards, and appears to flow away from the countries you have just mentioned. It is also stated that the Nile, on leaving the Albert-Nyanza, at once enters a defile, formed by two chains of mountains, one of which is called Gebel-Kookoo, and I do not see any defile whatever. I am therefore tempted to believe that we have discovered a second arm of the Nile, flowing, like the other one, from Lake Albert. But what does it matter? Let us follow the route it appears to show us, always supposing that it does not make too sharp a bend and so turn us from our course."
This advice was followed; the caravan, without seeking for any other road or attempting to fathom this fresh mystery of the Nile, pursued its riverside way.
The justice of the doctor's observations presently became apparent. The stream alongside which they were journeying did not present any of the obstacles recorded as existing in the Nile, neither rocky islets, nor mud banks covered with papyrus, nor gloomy ravines, nor steep cliffs. They met with no impetuous torrents, nor narrow gorges, bordered by perpendicular rocks and forests of bamboos. The river appeared to be navigable along its entire course, whilst the Nile, according to trustworthy authorities, is interspersed, between Lake Albert and Gondokoro, with impassable cataracts.
They were anxious to make enquiries amongst the natives, and to ascertain the name of their country, but the people, alarmed at the appearance of so numerous a caravan, and fearing to be taken as slaves, fled at their approach. In order to obtain a supply of provisions they had often to enter the abandoned huts and seize upon what they would have been willing to purchase. But, by the express orders of the Europeans, glass beads, iron wire, or calico, of which MM. Desrioux and de Pommerelle had still a considerable stock, were left in exchange either in the dwellings or the public squares.
The river now no longer flowed westwards; from the fourth degree of latitude it ran directly towards the north, and this confirmed the Europeans in their idea that it would not take them out of their proper course. There were other indications, also, which not only removed all doubt on this head, but also showed that if the expedition had not actually entered the Latooka country, the frontier was close at hand. The aspect of the villagers, the dress of the natives, who now allowed themselves to be approached, a few costumes seen here and there, agreeing with the reports made by Baker, gave unmistakeable evidence that they were in a district already marked and traversed, of which certain portions only, those they were crossing, were unexplored.
At length, on the 5th February, whilst the caravan was, as usual, following a course parallel with the Nile, they saw, on the left hand, the conical hill of Regiaf, and, on the right, the distant peak of Belignian. At sunset Gondokoro was but three miles distant.
The journey was, to a certain extent, at an end. Indeed, in the case of explorers who had come such an enormous distance, it was mere child's play, simply a stroll, to descend the Nile in a boat, to touch at Khartoum and Berber, to pass a few rapids, to cross Nubia and Egypt, arrive at Cairo, and embark on board a mail steamer for Marseilles.
As they had had a hard day's work, they determined not to enter Gondokoro the same evening; so, for the last time, the camp was pitched in the open air on the banks of the Nile. As usual, the tents of the Europeans were placed at one end of the encampment, as far as possible from the Khartoum and Zanzibar people, whose very numbers made them noisy. These tents, as might be expected after so long a campaign, were rather dilapidated, and more than one large slit gave free ingress to the sun's rays. That used by Madame de Guéran was the only one in a decent state of preservation, owing to the great care which had been bestowed upon it. It was distinguished from the rest by a small flag, placed on the top of it so that the Europeans, in case of alarm, might more easily rush to the assistance of their beloved Sultana.
Nobody sat up late that evening. There was a general anxiety to be up and astir the first thing next morning, and to enter Gondokoro as soon as possible, in the hope of finding there news from Europe and of arranging everything for an immediate return. M. de Morin, however, before turning in to his tent, had a short conversation with M. Delange.
"Well," said he, "what are you going to do now with your Venus in ebony? I presume you do not intend to secure a berth for her on board the vessel we are about to engage? My fears are dissipated. Walinda, I admit, no longer indulges in black looks. You have kept watch and ward over her most conscientiously, and you have been prudently cruel enough not to cut her cords. Nevertheless, she cannot enjoy our society for ever. Up to to-day you have managed to prevent all communication between the Queen and her former prisoner. That was possible; the one, closely watched, marched with the rearguard; the other, still suffering, and always carried in his hammock, never left the centre of the caravan. But very soon M. de Guéran will be perfectly well, and will wander at will amongst the soldiers and bearers—do you take in the whole scene?"
"Make your mind quite easy," said the doctor. "From to-morrow Walinda shall be free, and everything leads me to believe that she will have no other thought than that of returning to her own country."
"In that case, good night," said M. de Morin.
He went away, and M. Delange, as soon as he was out of sight, rejoined his prisoner.
In order to watch her more readily, he had caused a sort of hut to be constructed for her between the European tents and the spot occupied by the escort. He often took her daily meal to her, and spent a few moments in her hut. He, nevertheless, did not allow himself to be moved with compassion, nor had he hitherto deemed it right to restore her freedom to her. But, now that Gondokoro was only a few miles distant, now that Egypt was almost reached, M. Delange departed from his severity and forgot his prudence. For the first time for six weeks the bonds of Venus in ebony were cast off.
Towards two o'clock in the morning, whilst the doctor, who had now entire confidence in his prisoner, was fast asleep and reposing after the fatigues of the day, Walinda took hold of a hunting knife which M. Delange had left close to her, looked carefully round about her, and, when she had satisfied herself that everything was quiet in the camp, and that the sentries themselves, reassured by the proximity of Gondokoro, had left their posts, she glided stealthily in the darkness towards the tents of the Europeans.
There she halted and peered about for the flag which marked the tend occupied by Madame de Guéran. She saw it, and now sure of not making a mistake, she crept to the tent, noiselessly raised one of the curtains, glided inside, and then suddenly standing upright she bounded to the side of the bed, and buried her knife in the breast of the sleeper.
At day-break on the following morning the drums and horns joyfully sounded the reveille. Neither soldiers nor bearers needed, as was their wont, any rousing to make them leave their couches of dried leaves or straw; they, like everybody else, were in a hurry to make their triumphal entry into Gondokoro. Walinda even, usually so unconcerned and apparently insensible to every noise and every incident of the journey, left her shelter. With her eyes fixed on the tents, she seemed impatiently to await the moment when the Europeans would appear and give the order to start.
M. de Morin was the first person she saw; then, a moment afterwards, M. de Pommerelle, M. Périères, and the two doctors, Delange and Desrioux. A moment afterwards Miss Poles emerged from her sleeping place, having got up before everybody else in order to devote more time to a toilet intended to create a sensation in Gondokoro.
Two tents alone gave no signs of life, those of Madame de Guéran and her husband, separated one from the other by ten yards.
At last, the door of the tent without the flag was seen to move, and at the moment when the rising sun was shedding on all around his earliest rays, and tingeing them with his rosy hues, the Baroness de Guéran stepped forth, smiling, charming as ever, into the light of day.
Walinda, on seeing her, uttered a terrible cry, a cry of mingled rage and terror.
Other cries were heard. They proceeded from Joseph, who, by order of M. de Morin, had entered M. de Guéran's tent to see whether he could do anything for him, and at the same time to tell him that all was in readiness for the march.
He found the unhappy man covered with blood, dead, and cold. The knife, with which the blow had been struck, was still in his heart.
Walinda had been misled; she thought to kill the wife; she had murdered the husband instead.
She did not know that, on the previous evening, Madame de Guéran, fearing that the mist from the neighbouring marshes of Gondokoro might prove injurious to her husband, had given her tent up to him and had passed the night in the one usually occupied by him.
* * * * * *
Eight days after this catastrophe, the Europeans secured twonegghers, vessels used on the Upper Nile, and sailed down the river.A third vessel, smaller than the others, carried the coffin of M. deGuéran.
Before embarking, the Europeans, after having settled all accounts in a most liberal manner, parted with their soldiers and bearers, who immediately entered into other engagements with the slave dealers, so plentiful in these parts at that particular season of the year. The servants alone were retained. Nassar, whose devotion and intelligence had been so valuable, and the two Arab interpreters, Omar and Ali, wished to accompany their masters as far as Cairo.
They had not been afloat for more than a few hours, Gondokoro was still in sight, and the vessels, compelled to tack, were making but slow progress, when M. de Morin thought he saw in the middle of the river a dead body being carried down by the current. He at once got into a boat, and, by dint of hard rowing, discovered that it was the body of Walinda. The splendid corpse, on which death had not yet commenced its work of destruction, which it still respected, floated on the top of the water, gilded by the beams of the setting sun.
The Queen, in despair at having spared her rival and killed the man she loved, had taken advantage of the consternation throughout the camp to escape. She had, no doubt, wandered for some days along the banks of the river, and then plunged beneath its waters.
In death she still followed the caravan and the coffin of her lover.
At Khartoum the Europeans made a very short stay, at the commencement of April. 1874, for the purpose of conferring with Colonel Chaillé Long, chief of the staff to General Gordon. In exchange for the news from Europe which he gave them, he obtained from MM. Desrioux and de Pommerelle information concerning the Uganda territory and its king, M'tesa, to whom he was about to pay a visit.
Nothing of importance occurred during the long voyage down the Nile; all the members of the party kept aloof from each other, wrapped up in themselves, alone with their reminiscences and their thoughts. Advantage was taken of this inaction, following so closely on so agitated a life, to collect and arrange the notes of the expedition, and occasionally to admire the new countries stretching out to the horizon.
Madame de Guéran, secluded in a cabin in the after part of the vessel, appeared very seldom. She was, perhaps, reproaching herself for her harshness towards him who was no more, and for the words which had escaped her during her interview with M. Delange. She forgot all the faults of her husband in remembering only the indomitable courage and resolution of the great explorer.
Dr. Delange had also lost some of his light-heartedness, and he felt acutely the sole reproach addressed to him by M. de Morin. "Your admiration for African women, my dear friend," said the leader of the expedition to him, "has cost a man's life."
At Cairo the residue of the Nubians, the Soudan women, Nassar, and the Arabs took their departure, and all these faithful servants might very well exist for a long time on the handsome presents which were made to them.
The little European colony, left now to itself, after having embarked at Port Said, in the month of June, on board a steamer belonging to theMessageries Maritimes, arrived at Paris without any further delay.
Then came more adieux. Miss Poles said good-bye to her companions, who, although they had often made fun of her, fully appreciated her goodness, her devotion, and her courage. When the moment of departure arrived, and she had to tear herself away from the four men whom she had loved one by one, for whom she had burned with equal ardour, she forgot her latest preference for M. de Pommerelle and enfolded the whole lot in one embrace. From the arms of M. Périères she passed to those of M. de Morin, to fall into the embrace of M. Delange, who handed her over to the Count de Pommerelle. The Kings Munza and Kadjoro were alone wanting in this all-round embrace; if they had been present thefêtewould have been complete, and Miss Poles would have bestowed one huge, universal kiss on those she had loved so well.
After having wiped her tear-dimmed spectacles, and thanked Madame de Guéran, who had just secured an independance for her during the remainder of her life, she betook herself to her beloved England, where she now indulges in the "cup which cheers but not inebriates" in the society of her friend, the confidant of her most secret thoughts, the sole depository of her famous adventures amongst the Thouaregs.
The faithful Joseph has not left, his master having too much need of him. M. de Morin is, if one may be allowed to say so, the living crown of Joseph's glory, the landmark of his courage. A dozen times a day the valet points out his young master to the servants and tradesmen of the neighbourhood, saying to them at the same time. "You see that young fellow over there? The Arabs were going to shoot him, but I rescued him. The Niam-Niam wanted to eat him, I offered myself as a sacrifice. The amazons were making ready to massacre him, I delivered him out of their hands." All the feats of arms performed by M. de Morin were inscribed on Joseph's record of service. History is often written thus, the parts being reversed, and the truly great are swallowed up by the really small.
The various Geographical Societies of Europe did more justice to the de Guéran expedition, for although at first they received with a certain reserve the notes sent to them by an unknown explorer like M. Périères, they, in the course of time, officially accepted his discoveries, and replaced the words "unexplored regions" on their maps by the names of the Domondoos, the Maleggas, and the Walindis. Every day, moreover, some fresh traveller appears to confirm these discoveries, and quite lately, in the course of the year 1876, M. Gessi, one of Gordon's lieutenants, reported the existence of a second arm of the Nile, issuing, like its fellow, from the Albert-Nyanza, flowing westwards, and, according to the natives, rejoining the great river above Gondokoro. This is the arm of the Nile which M. Desrioux discovered and pointed out in 1874.
* * * * * *
Eighteen months elapsed without Madame de Guéran putting off her weeds, or showing any sign of marrying again.
"Why on earth does not she marry her dear doctor?" said M. de Morin one day to M. Delange. "They adore each other! That, alas! is easily seen, and I know the Baroness. She is just as incapable of shortening the term of her widowhood as she would be of breaking her marriage vows. But I wish she would put an end to this state of things, and betake herself, as soon as possible, to the priest and the mayor."
"My dear fellow," replied Delange, "Périères last week said almost the same thing in the same words, but they were, like yours, so full of bitterness that I dared not repeat them to Madame de Guéran. If she were to hear either of you, so far from making up her mind, as you want her to do, she would wait still longer."
"According to you, her scruples and her delicacy as regards us are the real causes of the delay?"
"Yes, she wants to let time heal your wounds; she has so sincere a friendship for both of you that she would not wound you for the world."
"Then tell her, please, that we shall not have the sorrow of knowing even the date of her wedding. Our first journey has whetted our appetites; the feverish longing for discovery has taken possession of Périères, de Pommerelle, and myself, and in a few weeks we shall start for western Africa. Following the example of the brothers Lander, we shall follow the course of the Congo, and proceed, in a north-easterly direction, towards Lake Tanganyika. We are in earnest, you see, and Madame de Guéran may resume her freedom of action. We are going to travel without her, and consequently she has a right to marry without us."
* * * * * *
Two months after this conversation Laura de Guéran became Madame Desrioux. The newly-married couple have retired to a villa on the borders of Lake Como, whose picturesque shores recall to their minds the Albert-Nyanza, near which they refound each other.
M. Delange and Joseph alone of all our heroes remain in Paris. The former is devoting himself to his profession, which does not prevent him, at midnight when his work is over, playing a rubber of whist, or making one at a baccarat table in his club. He it is, so report says, whom Gondinet and Felix Cohen have hit off in the second act of their capital play "Le Club." The doctor still dreams occasionally of the women of Africa, but he makes no secret of his opinion that several of his Parisian patients are their superiors.
Joseph betrayed a certain amount of indifference when the question of again setting out for Africa was mooted before him, and it is, moreover, quite possible that M. de Morin, with good reason for it, did not make a point of his accompanying him. The trusty valet is a valet no longer. He is a gentleman of independent means, thanks to the generosity of his master, and the sale of thirty elephant's tusks.
As for ourselves, our task is ended, and with it this lengthy history, which has only one merit—that of being entirely exact from a geographical point of view, and with regard to African customs. We have thought that our readers might be interested in being taken far away from Paris, and in having brought before them, in a possibly attractive guise, laborious researches, interesting discoveries, and the mysteries of a new world.