A DESPERATE ADVENTURE
In the village square, along which the banana trees threw their shadows
in a regular pattern, Wanda stopped. Looking round her, she examined
the village. Behind their mud walls the cabins appeared silent and
lifeless ... the quiet wrapped them round and seemed to stifle them
with its great weight. Wanda stood in doubt. From these huts carefully
closed and shuttered and about which the dusk was already creeping,
from this deserted square, from all this silence and this stillness of
people and things she drew a peculiar impression of doubt and hostility.
In spite of herself, the feeling possessed Wanda. She stood motionless,
unable to make up her mind. For a moment she hesitated between the
temptation of keeping the appointment which Jieng, with her reticent
half-finished sentence, had practically promised her, and the
sensation, every moment more strong, that danger was about her.
The day slowly faded. Driven by the breeze, the last of the clouds were
moving overhead in piled up fleecy rolls which the sun here and there
fringed with scarlet.
From the forest round about the discordant cries of a peacock shrilled
like a trumpet, and the sounds of the night began to make themselves
heard: the sweet and tremulous calling of a pair of wood pigeons, the
ringing call of a wild cock, and the sharp whistlings of the mandarin
birds....
The image of Michael, imprisoned by the sorceress, came imploringly to
the mind of the young girl.
Immediately making a decision, she walked straight to the hut of the
priestess. As she came near it, the door opened and Jieng appeared. The
crimson light of the flame from the hearth at the back of the cabin
showed her in clear silhouette. Watchfully, she stood regarding the
young girl. Wanda greeted her.
"You see, Jieng, I am punctual."
She spoke in Banhar, slowly, and picking her words.
The sorceress bent her head slightly.
"I expected you," she said, simply; and she drew aside to let the
stranger enter.
Keeping their eyes on each other, they sat down on the bench side by
side....
There was silence for several seconds. Then, resolutely, Wanda began
the contest.
"I have come alone," said she, "alone, as I said I would."
Jieng looked up.
"So I see," said she.
And putting aside all the ambiguity and roundabout phrases of the
native tongue, she asked:
"What do you want to know?"
The directness of the question surprised Wanda, bewildered her. She
remained silent; and it was the sorceress who continued:
"Was it that that astonished you?"
And stretching out her hand she pointed to the altar with its
prehistoric arms, its bones and its shining skull.
"Yes, that," said Wanda quickly, "and also the pilgrimage of the women
every season...."
She stopped speaking, feeling that the moment had not yet come to
reveal the principal object of her visit.
With a sidelong glance, Jieng watched her.
"That only?" she asked.
"Yes," said Wanda. "Where do they go, and why do they have these
meetings?"
Jieng broke into a fit of coughing.
"They go to pray," said she finally, "to the gods who protect husbands
and mothers."
She spoke quickly, without hesitation, in a clear voice.
"Ah!" said Wanda, "and these prayers, where do they take place? In a
temple?"
Her voice, although she was still in command of it, trembled slightly
as the thought came to her that it was towards this unknown place of
pilgrimage that they must have taken Michael.
The sorceress shrugged her shoulders.
"What does that matter to you?" she asked. "Here, there or everywhere
are the altars of our gods, of the guardian spirits of those in whose
veins runs the blue blood of the Moïs, the free savages who live in
the mountains among the inhabitants of the forest, and whom nobody has
ever been able to enslave.... Nobody ... neither the Annamese nor the
Lao-ese nor the Siamese ... and not even you others, you white folks,
in spite of all your efforts!"
While speaking, she had risen. With her figure supple, her chest thrown
out, her gestures full of life, she seemed a new and different being
from the suffering old woman whom Wanda remembered and of whom nothing
seemed to remain except the face wasted with wounds and the shoulders
seamed with scars.
"Indeed," cried she, "what has it got to do with you? Our gods belong
to us as yours belong to you. Who among us tries to find out the
mysteries of your religion?"
"Oh!" said Wanda, "some of them do! And Father Ravennes...."
Spitting on the ground with disgust, Jieng broke in:
"Traitors," said she, "renegades! They shall die!..."
She stared the young girl in the face and grinned fiendishly.
"Do you see? I am speaking frankly. I am telling you everything, even
at the risk...."
It was Wanda's turn to interrupt.
"Then," said she without any change of expression, "since you are
telling me everything, tell me what they have done with the lieutenant
who was in command of the Post."
Jieng remained unmoved. She neither answered the question nor took the
trouble to make any denials.
"He is in the hands of the gods," she said simply.
The young girl had a feeling of foreboding.
"By what right ..." she began.
The sorceress, resuming her seat, stopped her.
"By what right did he penetrate into the Dead Country, into the forest
where no man, not even if he is of our own blood, dare enter?"
Without taking any notice of the interruption, the young girl went on:
"He is alive, is he not?... You ... you have not...."
Jieng smiled ironically.
"How does this stranger interest you?" she asked.
Wanda, seizing the priestess by the wrists, clutched convulsively.
"He is my brother," she groaned. "Where have you taken him? Is he
alive? I must know. Do you hear? Either willing or unwilling, you shall
tell me...."
With a sudden shake, the sorceress got free. She took a few steps about
the hut, and came up to the young girl again. With her face twisted by
an evil grin, she said:
"Do you want to know? Do you?"
"Yes!" cried Wanda.
And she plunged her fingers into the pockets of her jacket. Coins
jingled, and she withdrew her hands full of money which she threw
on the bench. The money rolled in all directions on the dark wood,
scattering sparks of light.
"I will give you all that.... But answer me...."
Jieng took not the slightest notice. With her head drooped in thought,
she was considering. Finally, she looked the young girl straight in the
eyes.
"I cannot tell you anything, as I have no authority ... but...."
She held back the young girl, who had flung herself upon her.
"But, ... this evening the pilgrimage of the sixth month takes place."
"I know.... I know.... What then?"
The sorceress hesitated. A flash lit her eye, which she quickly veiled
with lowered lids.
"I suppose," said she, slowly, "that in order to learn everything that
you want, you would be willing to mingle with the women who are going
to enter the Dead Country ... and that you would follow them wherever I
lead them...."
She made a pause; between her half-open lids a direct glance flashed
sideways on the brown eyes of the young girl.
"That is only a supposition, you understand!"
"Then," said Wanda, who had become very pale, "then suppose that I do
follow you...."
A triumphant smile came and went on the priestess' face.
"If you were to do that, I am certain that no one would prevent you ...
no one...."
The young girl, gripping the sorceress by the shoulder, laughed:
"No one, of course not, only there would be just one more victim on
your altar, wouldn't there?"
Jieng did not flinch.
"No harm would come to you," she said calmly.
And as the young girl continued to smile ironically, she went on:
"No one would dare to touch you ... I tell you that for a fact."
Then repeated sarcastically:
"A victim!"
And she shrugged her shoulders.
"You came, you and that white man, into my village. My warriors were
there. You were alone; there were a dozen of them. If I had wanted
victims, why should I have waited? Were you not caught there in my hut
just as surely as a wild beast in a trap?"
Again she shrugged her shoulders scornfully and stopped speaking.
The silence lasted some moments. Wanda thought of Michael. Her tortured
heart was stronger than her reason; she reflected rapidly:
"I don't risk much.... I shall tell Pierre about it, he will follow my
track and will catch up with me. Meanwhile I shall get the better of
Jieng, and when he arrives...."
She stopped thinking. She saw just the one thing: here was a chance of
reaching Michael, of seeing him, helping him, perhaps of aiding in his
escape.... She cried:
"So be it! I will follow the women on their pilgrimage. What must I do?"
The priestess remained deep in thought for a second, then picking up in
a businesslike way the coins scattered under the bench, she hid them in
her belt.
"You must dress like one of our women."
And as the young girl began to protest, she stopped her with a gesture.
"It must be so, or you cannot come with us," she said with an air of
final authority: "Decide!"
"Very well," said Wanda. "When do we start?"
Jieng bent down, rummaged under the bench and drew out a tunic, a pair
of loose trousers and a turban which she handed to the young girl.
"Here are your clothes," she said, "in ten minutes I will come for you."
And she went off.
Wanda called after her:
"Can I leave a message for my friends?"
The face of the priestess took on a peculiar expression. Wanda thought
she heard her laugh, but she had not the time to be uneasy about it.
Jieng assented.
"Yes," said she, "that will be better."
And she went out, shutting the door behind her.
* * * * *
When Wanda emerged from the hut a few minutes later, the dusk was
falling on the mountain. A torch in her hand, Jieng was waiting for
her. The girl gave her the leaf that she had torn out of her notebook.
"Here is a letter for Father Ravennes."
"He shall have it tonight," promised the sorceress.
And without another word she started off, Wanda following her. It was
warm; into the stormy looking sky swollen clouds were climbing heavily.
The dark bluish outlines of the mountain stood out solidly among the
shadows that were beginning to creep over them. On the very tip of the
crest of the Pou-Kas a last ray of sunlight spread in purplish gold,
and the shining wave-like line of light stretched further and further
until the mountain looked like the body of a great sleeping monster.
They went on and on together, both of them silent. Above them, dull and
confusedly in a sort of scattered murmuring, the noise of human voices
gradually became audible--the subdued hubbub of a multitude.
Still they climbed. Little by little the noise became more definite,
and finally developed into a wild recitative sung by many voices and
marked by the rhythmic bang of gongs and resounding blows on copper
tom-toms.
It was the procession of the pilgrims, who, before entering the Dead
Country, were invoking their mysterious gods.
Suddenly, at a curve in the path, the body of women could be seen in
a large opening. Crouched in a thin, wide semicircle, and guarded by
sorceresses, there were perhaps a hundred of them. Around them torches
stuck into the ground waved smoky flames, throwing streaks of red light
on the white-clad backs which were now all bowed in a simultaneous
obeisance: patches of heavy smoke whirled upward into the dark: the
bitter smell of burning resinous wood drifted slowly into the air:
around them stood the dark wall of the inviolate forest.
At an order from Jieng, the women got up and took their places. They
were now silent. Above, on the mountain which the darkness now hid, a
vast silence seemed to weigh.
A short incantation, sung in unison by all, a sharp order, and then the
procession got under way and entered the forest, where it was rapidly
swallowed up in the damp shadows of the trees.
Left behind by herself, Wanda looked about her. The abandoned clearing
seemed suddenly increased in size by the darkness which had fallen
on it, now that the torches had been carried away. Before her, she
could feel, vast and threatening, the Pou-Kas hidden in the blackness.
Impulsively, she turned to look behind her, and far below her, in the
valley, she could pick out the lights of the Post which twinkled feebly
across the darkness. Her heart shook: thinking of Pierre, she could
imagine his anxiety on account of her absence, and for a moment her
resolution was shaken.
A wave of tenderness compounded of weakness and sweetness flowed
through her. _He_ was there in the hollow of the plain, watching for
her return!... These lights which beckoned to her were those of the
lamps that she lighted every evening while she waited for him! Before
her eyes she saw the little round table in the dining room where the
two of them met every night at dinner-time. She could actually see the
circle of light thrown by the pink-shaded lamp which broadened and
illuminated the interested face of the young man as he talked to her.
She could even distinguish his expression and his familiar gestures.
She noticed once again the nervous knack he had of pulling his light
moustache in little jerks. Above all, there came to her his laugh,--a
clear bantering laugh which drew his lips to one side and showed a
corner of his white teeth. Then, feeling the gray eyes of the young
man full upon her, she smiled across the night to him. Her head thrown
lightly back, her face forward, she seemed gently to offer him her
lips, instinctively repeating the gesture which had become habitual,
a gesture in which mingled the lure of a caress and the flicker of a
smile and which always had a strangely intoxicating effect upon Pierre.
But quickly shaking off her weakness, she recalled the image of
Michael, whom she was going to find and whom she would save at whatever
cost. Remembrances of her childhood, in which he was inextricably
mingled, brought to life again different moments of her past. Her
heart, captured again by the days gone by, was full of him, and
sisterly love once more dominated her.
Her head erect, with a noble gesture of sweetness and passion, she
opened her arms and closed them again slowly as if to embrace once more
the love she was leaving down there in the hollow of the shadow-drowned
valley.
Then with her teeth clenched she turned back, and hurried to catch
up with the troop of women who were mounting towards the mysterious
sanctuary in the heart of the Dead Country.