The boulevard, that river of humanity, was alive with people in the
golden light of the setting sun. The whole sky was red, blinding, and
behind the Madeleine an immense bank of flaming clouds cast a shower
of light the whole length of the boulevard, vibrant as the heat from a
brazier.
The gay, animated crowd went by in this golden mist and seemed to be
glorified. Their faces were gilded, their black hats and clothes took on
purple tints, the patent leather of their shoes cast bright reflections
on the asphalt of the sidewalk.
Before the cafes a mass of men were drinking opalescent liquids that
looked like precious stones dissolved in the glasses.
In the midst of the drinkers two officers in full uniform dazzled all
eyes with their glittering gold lace. They chatted, happy without asking
why, in this glory of life, in this radiant light of sunset, and they
looked at the crowd, the leisurely men and the hurrying women who left a
bewildering odor of perfume as they passed by.
All at once an enormous negro, dressed in black, with a paunch beneath
his jean waistcoat, which was covered with charms, his face shining as
if it had been polished, passed before them with a triumphant air. He
laughed at the passers-by, at the news venders, at the dazzling sky, at
the whole of Paris. He was so tall that he overtopped everyone else, and
when he passed all the loungers turned round to look at his back.
But he suddenly perceived the officers and darted towards them, jostling
the drinkers in his path. As soon as he reached their table he fixed
his gleaming and delighted eyes upon them and the corners of his mouth
expanded to his ears, showing his dazzling white teeth like a crescent
moon in a black sky. The two men looked in astonishment at this ebony
giant, unable to understand his delight.
With a voice that made all the guests laugh, he said:
“Good-day, my lieutenant.”
One of the officers was commander of a battalion, the other was a
colonel. The former said:
“I do not know you, sir. I am at a loss to know what you want of me.”
“Me like you much, Lieutenant Vedie, siege of Bezi, much grapes, find
me.”
The officer, utterly bewildered, looked at the man intently, trying to
refresh his memory. Then he cried abruptly:
“Timbuctoo?”
The negro, radiant, slapped his thigh as he uttered a tremendous laugh
and roared:
“Yes, yes, my lieutenant; you remember Timbuctoo, ya. How do you do?”
The commandant held out his hand, laughing heartily as he did so. Then
Timbuctoo became serious. He seized the officer's hand and, before
the other could prevent it, he kissed it, according to negro and Arab
custom. The officer embarrassed, said in a severe tone:
“Come now, Timbuctoo, we are not in Africa. Sit down there and tell me
how it is I find you here.”
Timbuctoo swelled himself out and, his words falling over one another,
replied hurriedly:
“Make much money, much, big restaurant, good food; Prussians, me, much
steal, much, French cooking; Timbuctoo cook to the emperor; two thousand
francs mine. Ha, ha, ha, ha!”
And he laughed, doubling himself up, roaring, with wild delight in his
glances.
When the officer, who understood his strange manner of expressing
himself, had questioned him he said:
“Well, au revoir, Timbuctoo. I will see you again.”
The negro rose, this time shaking the hand that was extended to him and,
smiling still, cried:
“Good-day, good-day, my lieutenant!”
He went off so happy that he gesticulated as he walked, and people
thought he was crazy.
“Who is that brute?” asked the colonel.
“A fine fellow and a brave soldier. I will tell you what I know about
him. It is funny enough.
“You know that at the commencement of the war of 1870 I was shut up
in Bezieres, that this negro calls Bezi. We were not besieged, but
blockaded. The Prussian lines surrounded us on all sides, outside the
reach of cannon, not firing on us, but slowly starving us out.
“I was then lieutenant. Our garrison consisted of soldier of all
descriptions, fragments of slaughtered regiments, some that had run
away, freebooters separated from the main army, etc. We had all kinds,
in fact even eleven Turcos [Algerian soldiers in the service of France],
who arrived one evening no one knew whence or how. They appeared at the
gates of the city, exhausted, in rags, starving and dirty. They were
handed over to me.
“I saw very soon that they were absolutely undisciplined, always in the
street and always drunk. I tried putting them in the police station,
even in prison, but nothing was of any use. They would disappear,
sometimes for days at a time, as if they had been swallowed up by the
earth, and then come back staggering drunk. They had no money. Where did
they buy drink and how and with what?
“This began to worry me greatly, all the more as these savages
interested me with their everlasting laugh and their characteristics of
overgrown frolicsome children.
“I then noticed that they blindly obeyed the largest among them, the
one you have just seen. He made them do as he pleased, planned their
mysterious expeditions with the all-powerful and undisputed authority
of a leader. I sent for him and questioned him. Our conversation lasted
fully three hours, for it was hard for me to understand his remarkable
gibberish. As for him, poor devil, he made unheard-of efforts to make
himself intelligible, invented words, gesticulated, perspired in his
anxiety, mopping his forehead, puffing, stopping and abruptly beginning
again when he thought he had found a new method of explaining what he
wanted to say.
“I gathered finally that he was the son of a big chief, a sort of negro
king of the region around Timbuctoo. I asked him his name. He repeated
something like 'Chavaharibouhalikranafotapolara.' It seemed simpler to
me to give him the name of his native place, 'Timbuctoo.' And a week
later he was known by no other name in the garrison.
“But we were all wildly anxious to find out where this African ex-prince
procured his drinks. I discovered it in a singular manner.
“I was on the ramparts one morning, watching the horizon, when I
perceived something moving about in a vineyard. It was near the time of
vintage, the grapes were ripe, but I was not thinking of that. I
thought that a spy was approaching the town, and I organized a complete
expedition to catch the prowler. I took command myself, after obtaining
permission from the general.
“I sent out by three different gates three little companies, which were
to meet at the suspected vineyard and form a cordon round it. In order
to cut off the spy's retreat, one of these detachments had to make at
least an hour's march. A watch on the walls signalled to me that the
person I had seen had not left the place. We went along in profound
silence, creeping, almost crawling, along the ditches. At last we
reached the spot assigned.
“I abruptly disbanded my soldiers, who darted into the vineyard and
found Timbuctoo on hands and knees travelling around among the vines and
eating grapes, or rather devouring them as a dog eats his sop, snatching
them in mouthfuls from the vine with his teeth.
“I wanted him to get up, but he could not think of it. I then understood
why he was crawling on his hands and knees. As soon as we stood him on
his feet he began to wabble, then stretched out his arms and fell down
on his nose. He was more drunk than I have ever seen anyone.
“They brought him home on two poles. He never stopped laughing all the
way back, gesticulating with his arms and legs.
“This explained the mystery. My men also drank the juice of the grapes,
and when they were so intoxicated they could not stir they went to sleep
in the vineyard. As for Timbuctoo, his love of the vineyard was beyond
all belief and all bounds. He lived in it as did the thrushes, whom he
hated with the jealous hate of a rival. He repeated incessantly: 'The
thrushes eat all the grapes, captain!'
“One evening I was sent for. Something had been seen on the plain coming
in our direction. I had not brought my field-glass and I could not
distinguish things clearly. It looked like a great serpent uncoiling
itself--a convoy. How could I tell?
“I sent some men to meet this strange caravan, which presently made its
triumphal entry. Timbuctoo and nine of his comrades were carrying on a
sort of altar made of camp stools eight severed, grinning and bleeding
heads. The African was dragging along a horse to whose tail another
head was fastened, and six other animals followed, adorned in the same
manner.
“This is what I learned: Having started out to the vineyard, my Africans
had suddenly perceived a detachment of Prussians approaching a village.
Instead of taking to their heels, they hid themselves, and as soon as
the Prussian officers dismounted at an inn to refresh themselves, the
eleven rascals rushed on them, put to flight the lancers, who thought
they were being attacked by the main army, killed the two sentries, then
the colonel and the five officers of his escort.
“That day I kissed Timbuctoo. I saw, however, that he walked with
difficulty and thought he was wounded. He laughed and said:
“'Me provisions for my country.'
“Timbuctoo was not fighting for glory, but for gain. Everything he found
that seemed to him to be of the slightest value, especially anything
that glistened, he put in his pocket. What a pocket! An abyss that began
at his hips and reached to his ankles. He had retained an old term used
by the troopers and called it his 'profonde,' and it was his 'profonde'
in fact.
“He had taken the gold lace off the Prussian uniforms, the brass off
their helmets, detached their buttons, etc., and had thrown them all
into his 'profonde,' which was full to overflowing.
“Each day he pocketed every glistening object that came beneath his
observation, pieces of tin or pieces of silver, and sometimes his
contour was very comical.
“He intended to carry all that back to the land of ostriches, whose
brother he might have been, this son of a king, tormented with the
longing to gobble up all objects that glistened. If he had not had his
'profonde' what would he have done? He doubtless would have swallowed
them.
“Each morning his pocket was empty. He had, then, some general store
where his riches were piled up. But where? I could not discover it.
“The general, on being informed of Timbuctoo's mighty act of valor,
had the headless bodies that had been left in the neighboring village
interred at once, that it might not be discovered that they were
decapitated. The Prussians returned thither the following day. The
mayor and seven prominent inhabitants were shot on the spot, by way of
reprisal, as having denounced the Prussians.
“Winter was here. We were exhausted and desperate. There were skirmishes
now every day. The famished men could no longer march. The eight
'Turcos' alone (three had been killed) remained fat and shiny, vigorous
and always ready to fight. Timbuctoo was even getting fatter. He said to
me one day:
“'You much hungry; me good meat.'
“And he brought me an excellent filet. But of what? We had no more
cattle, nor sheep, nor goats, nor donkeys, nor pigs. It was impossible
to get a horse. I thought of all this after I had devoured my meat. Then
a horrible idea came to me. These negroes were born close to a country
where they eat human beings! And each day such a number of soldiers were
killed around the town! I questioned Timbuctoo. He would not answer. I
did not insist, but from that time on I declined his presents.
“He worshipped me. One night snow took us by surprise at the outposts.
We were seated, on the ground. I looked with pity at those poor negroes
shivering beneath this white frozen shower. I was very cold and began to
cough. At once I felt something fall on me like a large warm quilt. It
was Timbuctoo's cape that he had thrown on my shoulders.
“I rose and returned his garment, saying:
“'Keep it, my boy; you need it more than I do.'
“'Non, my lieutenant, for you; me no need. Me hot, hot!'
“And he looked at me entreatingly.
“'Come, obey orders. Keep your cape; I insist,' I replied.
“He then stood up, drew his sword, which he had sharpened to an edge
like a scythe, and holding in his other hand the large cape which I had
refused, said:
“'If you not keep cape, me cut. No one cape.'
“And he would have done it. So I yielded.
“Eight days later we capitulated. Some of us had been able to escape,
the rest were to march out of the town and give themselves up to the
conquerors.
“I went towards the exercising ground, where we were all to meet, when
I was dumfounded at the sight of a gigantic negro dressed in white
duck and wearing a straw hat. It was Timbuctoo. He was beaming and was
walking with his hands in his pockets in front of a little shop where
two plates and two glasses were displayed.
“'What are you doing?' I said.
“'Me not go. Me good cook; me make food for Colonel Algeria. Me eat
Prussians; much steal, much.'
“There were ten degrees of frost. I shivered at sight of this negro in
white duck. He took me by the arm and made me go inside. I noticed an
immense flag that he was going to place outside his door as soon as we
had left, for he had some shame.”