The heavens, which had been till now of transparent blue, became
gradually of a greenish tint, and the sun was veiled in red, lurid
vapor. This strange light gave to every object a weird appearance, of
which one might form an idea, by looking at a landscape through a piece
of copper colored glass. In those climates, this phenomenon, when united
with an increase of burning heat, always announces the approach of a
storm.
From time to time there was a passing odor of sulphur; then the leaves,
slightly shaken by electric currents, would tremble upon their stalks;
till again all would return to the former motionless silence. The weight
of the burning atmosphere, saturated with sharp perfumes, became almost
intolerable. Large drops of sweat stood in pearls on the forehead of
Djalma, still plunged in enervating sleep--for it no longer resembled
rest, but a painful stupor.
The Strangler glided like a reptile along the sides of the ajoupa, and,
crawling on his belly, arrived at the sleeping-mat of Djalma, beside
which he squatted himself, so as to occupy as little space as possible.
Then began a fearful scene, by reason of the mystery and silence which
surrounded it.
Djalma’s life was at the mercy of the Strangler. The latter, resting
upon his hands and knees, with his neck stretched forward, his eye fixed
and dilated, continued motionless as a wild beast about to spring. Only
a slight nervous trembling of the jaws agitated that mask of bronze.
But soon his hideous features revealed a violent struggle that was
passing within him--a struggle between the thirst, the craving for the
enjoyment of murder, which the recent assassination of the slave had
made still more active, and the orders he had received not to attempt
the life of Djalma, though the design, which brought him to the ajoupa,
might perhaps be as fatal to the young Indian as death itself. Twice did
the Strangler, with look of flame, resting only on his left hand, seize
with his right the rope’s end; and twice his hand fell--the instinct of
murder yielding to a powerful will, of which the Malay acknowledged the
irresistible empire.
In him, the homicidal craving must have amounted to madness, for, in
these hesitations, he lost much precious time: at any moment, Djalma,
whose vigor, skill, and courage were known and feared, might awake from
his sleep, and, though unarmed, he would prove a terrible adversary. At
length the Thug made up his mind; with a suppressed sigh of regret, he
set about accomplishing his task.
This task would have appeared impossible to any one else. The reader may
judge.
Djalma, with his face turned towards the left, leaned his head upon his
curved arm. It was first necessary, without waking him, to oblige him to
turn his face towards the right (that is, towards the door), so that, in
case of his being half-roused, his first glance might not fall upon the
Strangler. The latter, to accomplish his projects, would have to remain
many minutes in the cabin.
The heavens became darker; the heat arrived at its last degree of
intensity; everything combined to increase the torpor of the sleeper,
and so favor the Strangler’s designs. Kneeling down close to Djalma, he
began, with the tips of his supple, well-oiled fingers, to stroke the
brow, temples, and eyelids of the young Indian, but with such extreme
lightness, that the contact of the two skins was hardly sensible. When
this kind of magnetic incantation had lasted for some seconds, the
sweat, which bathed the forehead of Djalma, became more abundant:
he heaved a smothered sigh, and the muscles of his face gave several
twitches, for the strokings, although too light to rouse him, yet caused
in him a feeling of indefinable uneasiness.
Watching him with his restless and burning eye, the Strangler continued
his maneuvers with so much patience, that Djalma, still sleeping, but
no longer able to bear this vague, annoying sensation, raised his right
hand mechanically to his face, as if he would have brushed away an
importunate insect. But he had not strength to do it; almost immediately
after, his hand, inert and heavy, fell back upon his chest. The
Strangler saw, by this symptom, that he was attaining his object, and
continued to stroke, with the same address, the eyelids, brow, and
temples.
Whereupon Djalma, more and more oppressed by heavy sleep, and having
neither strength nor will to raise his hand to his face, mechanically
turned round his head, which fell languidly upon his right shoulder,
seeking by this change of attitude, to escape from the disagreeable
sensation which pursued him. The first point gained, the Strangler could
act more freely.
To render as profound as possible the sleep he had half interrupted, he
now strove to imitate the vampire, and, feigning the action of a fan,
he rapidly moved his extended hands about the burning face of the young
Indian. Alive to a feeling of such sudden and delicious coolness, in the
height of suffocating heat, the countenance of Djalma brightened, his
bosom heaved, his half-opened lips drank in the grateful air, and he
fell into a sleep only the more invincible, because it had been at first
disturbed, and was now yielded to under the influence of a pleasing
sensation.
A sudden flash of lightning illumined the shady dome that sheltered the
ajoupa: fearing that the first clap of thunder might rouse the young
Indian, the Strangler hastened to complete his Task. Djalma lay on his
back, with his head resting on his right shoulder, and his left arm
extended; the Thug, crouching at his left side, ceased by degrees the
process of fanning; then, with incredible dexterity, he succeeded in
rolling up, above the elbow, the long wide sleeve of white muslin that
covered the left arm of the sleeper.
He next drew from the pocket of his drawers a copper box, from which he
took a very fine, sharp-pointed needle, and a piece of a black-looking
root. He pricked this root several times with the needle, and on each
occasion there issued from it a white, glutinous liquid.
When the Strangler thought the needle sufficiently impregnated with this
juice, he bent down, and began to blow gently over the inner surface of
Djalma’s arm, so as to cause a fresh sensation of coolness; then, with
the point of his needle, he traced almost imperceptibly on the skin of
the sleeping youth some mysterious and symbolical signs. All this was
performed so cleverly and the point of the needle was so fine and keen,
that Djalma did not feel the action of the acid upon the skin.
The signs, which the Strangler had traced, soon appeared on the surface,
at first in characters of a pale rose-color, as fine as a hair; but
such was the slowly corrosive power of the juice, that, as it worked and
spread beneath the skin, they would become in a few hours of a violet
red, and as apparent as they were now almost invisible.
The Strangler, having so perfectly succeeded in his project, threw a
last look of ferocious longing on the slumbering Indian, and creeping
away from the mat, regained the opening by which he had entered the
cabin; next, closely uniting the edges of the incision, so as to obviate
all suspicion, he disappeared just as the thunder began to rumble
hoarsely in the distance.(4)
(4) We read in the letters of the late Victor Jacquemont upon India,
with regard to the incredible dexterity of these men: “They crawl on the
ground, ditches, in the furrows of fields, imitate a hundred different
voices, and dissipate the effect of any accidental noise by raising the
yelp of the jackal or note of some bird--then are silent, and another
imitates the call of the same animal in the distance. They can molest a
sleeper by all sorts of noises and slight touches, and make his body
and limbs take any position which suits their purpose.” Count Edward
de Warren, in his excellent work on English India, which we shall have
again occasion to quote, expresses himself in the same manner as to the
inconceivable address of the Indians: “They have the art,” says he, “to
rob you, without interrupting your sleep, of the very sheet in which
you are enveloped. This is not ‘a traveller’s tale.’ but a fact. The
movements of the bheel are those of the serpent. If you sleep in your
tent, with a servant lying across each entrance, the bheel will come
and crouch on the outside, in some shady corner, where he can hear the
breathing of those within. As soon as the European sleeps, he feels
sure of success, for the Asiatic will not long resist the attraction of
repose. At the proper moment, he makes a vertical incision in the cloth
of the tent, on the spot where he happens to be, and just large enough
to admit him. He glides through like a phantom, without making the least
grain of sand creak beneath his tread. He is perfectly naked, and all
his body is rubbed over with oil; a two-edged knife is suspended from
his neck. He will squat down close to your couch, and, with incredible
coolness and dexterity, will gather up the sheet in very little folds,
so as to occupy the least surface possible; then, passing to the other
side, he will lightly tickle the sleeper, whom he seems to magnetize,
till the latter shrinks back involuntarily, and ends by turning round,
and leaving the sheet folded behind him. Should he awake, and strive to
seize the robber, he catches at a slippery form, which slides through
his hands like an eel; should he even succeed in seizing him, it would
be fatal--the dagger strikes him to the heart, he falls bathed in his
blood, and the assassin disappears.”--E. S.