THE FUGITIVE'S STORY
Shrugging his shoulders, Father Ravennes took some strides about the
hut. Suddenly stopping before the young woman he took her by the arm
and forced her to stand up.
"Follow me," said he.
And he pushed her outside, led her to the chapel and opened the door.
"Come in!"
He pushed her before him, stood aside to let Pierre pass, and then
entering in his turn into the sanctuary he carefully bolted the heavy
door.
Through the blinds a vague light stole in. The Stieng woman looked
round her with curiosity. She saw the pale walls with their cheap
copies of the Way of the Cross, each of the colored chromos framed with
a simple casing of black wood. Then she saw the painted roof of thatch
with its confusion of unsquared beams, and below it, in front of her,
slightly raised on a few shallow steps, the altar--modest and simple,
and on which all the light of the glowing dawn seemed to concentrate
itself between the groups of candles. In the centre, dominating the
tabernacle, a large Christ on the Cross twisted his body in agony.
Father Ravennes made the young woman sit down on the altar steps.
"You are afraid," said he, "that somebody will overhear your words, but
here no one can hear us. See for yourself. The chapel is too large for
your voice to be heard outside."
He raised his hand, pointing to the crucifix above them. His voice, at
once grave and ardent, continued:
"And there is our God--the omnipotent and merciful God of the white
people, whose sovereign power directs the world. We are all in His
keeping, and if I have brought you here into His very shadow it is
that He may protect you and preserve you. Now if He wills it, you will
speak. May His will be done!..."
He stopped speaking and closed his eyes. The heavy silence of
expectation bent their heads. The lips of Father Ravennes moved slowly
in words that were inaudible: he was praying.
The woman with a sudden shrug of the shoulders seemed to fling off a
burden.
"I believe you," said she. "I will tell you everything that I know,
everything that happened to myself. Is that what you wish?"
The missionary opened his eyes, now animated by a strange expression of
thankfulness and joy.
"Yes," said he.
And in a low voice he murmured:
"Thy goodness be praised, O God!"
Already the woman was talking.
"My name is Hmon, of the village of Khon-Ko-Xan, of the country of the
Stiengs, where I am a free woman among the free people of the forest.
Four years ago my parents married me to the chief of the village. Our
first two years were happy ones. Then little by little hatred came to
us and took up its abode in our hut. It was because, in spite of all
my prayers and all my sacrifices to the gods, I had given no child to
my husband. Then one afternoon at the men's council I was named with
a group of other childless wives to take part in the great pilgrimage
which twice a year goes up into the Dead Country to pray to the Red
Gods.
"There were eight of us women, and three men fully accoutred for war
were to accompany us. And the very same evening we started on our
journey. The seventh night after our departure, at the hour of the
second watch, we arrived at the threshold of the Sacred Forest.... At
its very threshold indeed, sahib!..."
She fell silent as a shudder ran through her. Father Ravennes took hold
of her hand.
"Continue," said he softly.
She gave one look at the missionary and then in little, short,
disconnected sentences she continued:
"The priestesses took charge of the group which had come up from the
entire country. They arranged us in ranks, and counted us one by one.
Then, having sent off the men, they showed us the way towards the
mountain.
"After five hours of marching we reached the clearing, the meeting
place. Jieng, the chief sorceress, was waiting for us there. After a
short stop we took to the track again. Four times the sun, towards
which we were advancing, rose and set, and at the beginning of the
fifth night as the moon was rising and getting larger and larger, we at
last caught sight of the temple hanging on the very edge of the crest
of the Pou-Kas."
The missionary grasped Lursac's wrist.
"The temple ... on the very edge of the crest of the Pou-Kas," he
whispered.
The woman did not hear him. She continued:
"When it was perfectly dark they made us enter. Between the two high
centre towers there was a long gallery two stories high; then a huge
interior court, square, and paved with ancient stones. Around the whole
ran a platform reached by four wide staircases. Between these stairs
against the wall below the platform were ranged statues of warriors and
priests, of horses and elephants in war-harness, keeping guard. Between
the stones of the courtyard banyan trees were growing. The air sang
among their branches, but our hearts were bowed in agony. It was warm.
Above our heads, in the small area of sky that we could see, flowed the
night, the same night which we knew at home. We had seated ourselves.
I heard the creaking of an insect close by me. In this way an hour
passed, and then from the building opposite to the entrance gallery of
which the walls seemed built right into the cliff of the Pou-Kas, a
chant arose, sahib.
"At the same moment Jieng appeared and cried:
"'Those from the village of Dong-Track, in the land of the Reungaos....'
"Five women arose and she made them enter the temple.
"More time passed, and again Jieng returned and called out:
"'Those from the village of the Xieng-Khon in the land of the
Sedangs....'
"And only three women came forward, who in their turn penetrated into
the sanctuary.
"From time to time she came and called thus. And all the women of the
Moï, all the wives from the free clans of the mountain and forest were
taken into the palace of the gods, to whom they were going to pray that
their sterile bodies might bear fruit.
"'Those from the village of Khon-Ko-Xan in the land of the Stiengs.'
"Our moment had come. I took the lead. When I reached Jieng, I bowed
to the ground humbly, like the others, and entered. We crossed a long
narrow room with thick walls entirely covered with carvings. Before us
a curving subterranean passageway led down. Its sweating walls were
lighted by braziers on heavy copper tripods. While we went forward the
chant came nearer. We walked on for some time. Finally after a sharp
turn we came out into a round room, the floor of which was hollowed
out into a large basin. Eight sorceresses with torches in their hands
were waiting for us ranged round the sides of the room. After we had
been dipped in the waters of the basin they took charge of us. First of
all they put on us black tunics and then covered our faces with sacred
masks, the soft moist skin of which was cut with four openings for the
eyes, the mouth, and the nose. Then escorting us they opened a door and
drew us through. The chant which had been still going on all this time
suddenly burst louder on our ears, and we understood that we were in
the sanctuary in which was enthroned the image of the gods we had come
to implore.
"With my throat grown dry, and trembling to the tips of my fingers
I looked round me. On my right, an enormous serpent with nine heads
supported a heavy column. A little further, an animal with the body of
a dragon and the head of a bird appeared to be flapping its wings; and
as far as I could see on both sides other pillars spread upward towards
the roof, invisible in the shadows.... But I had not time to look about
me any longer; a push forced me forward.
"We were going on. Under every monster a sorceress stood with a torch
to light our way. There were some sixty sorceresses on the right and
on the left, while we marched between them. Their faces slashed with
wounds, their eyes fixed in front of them, they stared at us as we
passed. They made no movement, but sang without stopping. Now we had
come to the foot of the altar. We had come to the end of the columns,
the sanctuary grew nearer. Before us were three wide semi-circular
recesses, each led up to by three steps; each recess was hidden by a
transparent veil embroidered with silver under which we had to creep
after we had made obeisance on our faces. When the last curtain was
passed I saw at last the statue of the god. He was sitting with his
legs folded under him. His swelling chest was covered with a brown fur,
his red body sparkled and his beautiful face smiled strangely. From his
shoulders hung twelve arms with great open hands, the palms turned flat
towards the earth in a sweeping gesture of blessing.
"Then behind us the voice of Jieng ordered:
"'Go, and each one of you place her head under one of the hands of the
God of wives'
"We drew near with our heads bowed. I was on the right, under the
fourth hand. Slowly I drew myself up until my forehead felt the weight
of the cold hard palm. I stammered the words of the ritual:
"'O God of barren women, give life to my body!'
"Beside me seven other voices repeated continuously:
"'O God of barren women, give life to my body!'
"On my throbbing temples I felt the metal fingers which seemed to get
heavier and heavier. A sweet perfume, floating about me, took me by the
throat and rendered me dizzy.
"I fell, and night flowed into me."
Again she stopped. Father Ravennes asked:
"Is that all?..."
The woman shook her head.
"No," said she, "or I should not be here. When I woke up I found myself
in the same place lying on the stone floor. I looked up. Above me the
red hands were still outstretched. Nothing had changed; except that the
sorceresses still standing at their posts were no longer singing. There
was a great silence, peaceful and satisfying. The voice of Jieng once
more rose:
"'Go,' said she. 'The Red Gods will lend a favorable ear to your
prayers.'
"I got up. My head was heavy and a great feeling of tiredness possessed
my whole being. In the chamber of ablutions I took off my mask and put
on my usual clothes. Outside I found a surprise. The sun was setting on
the horizon. I had been more than four watches at the feet of the gods.
"Ten days afterwards I was back in my village, and once again the god
of happiness took up his abode in our house. I waited with confidence,
knowing that the gods had worked innumerable miracles. But a year went
by without my hope being realized. For the second time I returned to
the Dead Country and bent under the image of the god. Again, eleven
months during which anger and hatred were my portion continually.
"Three weeks ago, considering me incapable of giving him a child, my
husband called the council of chiefs together. My case, unique in our
clan, was discussed and I learned that the men's meeting had decided
to make a gift of me to the Red Gods. The morning after, a sorceress
came to talk with my husband. The same evening she took me away, after
having announced to the clan the capture of the sahib of the two
stripes, who was in command of the Post here.
"Fear took possession of me. I became nothing more than a trembling
body without will. Continually I recalled the laws of the Dead Country,
the laws of the sorceresses. I remembered that only ugliness is
pleasing to the Red Gods, and that all those who are set aside to serve
them must be tortured and disfigured. I thought of Reung, whose arms
are now only stumps; of Saond, whose leg, broken and destroyed, drags
along behind her like a hanging rag; and finally of Jieng, with her
dead eye, her cut-about lips and her flayed nose.
"All the tortures that I would have to undergo came before me,
surrounded me, and seemed to squeeze my brain. I was almost insane,
sahibs, and one morning at dawn I fled. For ten days I wandered into
the forest, tracked by the priestesses and pursued by all the clans of
the forest; and I arrived here the very morning of the pilgrimage of
the sixth month, this pilgrimage on which I was to have been taken to
the Dead Country in order to have been consecrated as a sorceress."
She turned towards the priest a face in which there was reflected a
shadow of the fear which she had just recalled, and with a long look at
him she said:
"They told me you were kind, O Father, and I came to you. You received
me and took care of me, and my heart--the heart of a free woman of the
forest--will not forget. I have told you everything that I know. Truly,
I have told you everything. Have I told you what you wanted?"
And as with a gentle motion of his head the missionary answered in the
affirmative, she added with a strange cry, pointing to the crucifix:
"May He guard me, as I know that death is round about me! But what does
it matter? You have saved me; in my turn I have done you a service. As
for the rest we are in the hands of the gods."
The two men had risen.
"Yes," said Father Ravennes, "I know that you have told me everything,
without concealing anything and without lying, as I asked you. I thank
you. Now go!"
And as she went Lursac said:
"We now know what we wanted to. It is towards the Pou-Kas that we must
bend our steps. The pilgrimage has only about twelve hours' start of
us, and it is composed of women. If we travel night and day we shall
perhaps be able to catch up with them...."
The missionary looked at him.
"Catch up with them? ... but we shall not be able to make one hour's
march towards the Pou-Kas without their being warned of it. And when
we arrive before the sanctuary either we shall find it abandoned or we
shall have to fling ourselves against defences thoroughly prepared and
against which all our efforts will be useless. We shall be lucky indeed
if they do not have us massacred on the way there. No! Will you put
your trust in me?"
Together they left the chapel. Around them, under a sky like a blue
crystal basin, everything still slept.
In the air, growing every moment more beautifully transparent, the
whistling of the blackbirds quarrelling on the stockades broke the
silence.
"When do we start?" demanded Lursac sharply.
Father Ravennes calculated:
"Allow one hour for you to get back to the fort and two hours to
make our preparations. Take only what is indispensable. Twenty days'
provisions per man. We must march swiftly. As few cases and packages
as possible, and no more men than we really need: the six elephants
with their mahouts to carry our outfit, and fifteen riflemen with the
corporal. Above all, on no account tell them where we are going."
He stretched his hands to Pierre. A short grasp brought them together
for an instant, mingled their emotions and made their hearts beat in
harmony.
The missionary released his fingers almost roughly.
"Start, start," said he, "I will join you there in three hours."
And while the young man hurried towards the gate, he made off with
great strides in the direction of his cabin.
In the middle of the court he stopped suddenly, wrinkling his brow
thoughtfully. From the other side of the palisade came the sound of the
galloping of Lursac's pony, rapidly fading into the distance.
Mechanically the priest listened until he could no longer hear it,
while with raised head he watched the Pou-Kas of which the distant
summit barred the heavens with a clear horizontal line.
"There must be some roundabout way, some path where they do not set a
watch!" thought he. "Why did not I remember to ask about it, for that
is the one we shall have to follow if we do not wish to be stopped."
He hesitated a minute, then turning back on his steps he walked to the
hut set aside for Hmon, the Stieng woman. Through the wide-open door he
saw her lying at the foot of the sleeping bench, her forehead on the
black wood and her arms stretched out.
He entered and placed one of his hands on the uncovered shoulder of the
young woman.
"Hmon," said he, "I have yet this...."
The words died on his lips. He jerked away his fingers, disagreeably
surprised by the touch of her cold, rough flesh. He bent over her.
Along her amber-colored neck a thin trickle of blood, almost coagulated
already, came from under the hair, and making a bend over the left
shoulder, lost itself inside the tunic below.
"Hmon! Hmon!" he called.
At the same time, taking the woman's head, he raised it. The face
was gray, marbled with pale spots; the eyes, half-shut, showing the
eyeballs, sightless and strangely fluid. The thin, discolored lips,
however, seemed to smile at him strangely from the other side of the
Unknown.
Father Ravennes gently let the forehead fall back, and the body in its
black tunic once more resumed its attitude of supplication and prayer.
Against the dark wood of the sleeping-bench the long livid hands
showed up clearly. The paleness of the bent neck was emphasized, and
suddenly among the lowest strands of hair at the base of the skull he
saw the head of a large pin, curiously ornamented with a grinning mask,
sticking out, glittering and ominous.
The missionary looked at it for a second; then, taking from his neck
the beads, from the end of which hung his crucifix, he passed it about
the shoulders of Hmon the Stieng, and going down on his knees, he
clasped his hands and prayed.
Outside, the brisk crow of a cock vibrated, saluting the warm and
golden resurrection of the day.