[Illustration]
Sosee had come down from the tree in which she received the news of the
rape of Orlee, described in Chapter I, and, though she had given orders
to Koree to bring back the child, she did not herself remain inactive.
She rushed into the crowd, and, calling upon all, with wild screams, to
rescue the child, went herself into the Swamp, and without any notion
of where she was going, wandered about aimlessly till night, being
completely lost. She found her way back only by the light of the moon,
whose position in the heavens was some guide in her wanderings. Nor would
she have returned at all, had she not hoped that some one else had, in
the mean while, brought back the child.
On returning to the place from which she had started, she was distressed
to learn that Orlee was not found, and she could scarcely be restrained
from immediately starting again in pursuit of her. As Koree, however,
had not yet returned, having searched farther and later than any, except
Sosee, she hoped that he, inspired by her love, would come back with
success. She had most confidence in him because she had most love for
him, believing that what most pleased her fancy would best serve her
purpose.
Her first disappointment in love was when she saw Koree return without
the child; for in this crisis she felt more for her sister than for her
lover, the newly lost being ever dearer than the long loved. Koree had
failed to meet her expectation, or rather her desire; and in times of
disappointment the little that is lacking outweighs all that is not.
“You have failed to bring back Orlee and the tail of the fat baboon,” she
said, “Despair of my love till you fetch me both.”
This was spoken in the half-articulate manner already explained, as was
the balance of the conversation (which we translate, however, into modern
expression).
“What all the race of the Ammi could not do,” he replied, “you ought not
to blame your lover for not accomplishing.”
“The love of one,” she retorted, “can do more than the indifference of
many. If Orlee is ever found it will be by love, and not by numbers.”
“I will yet fetch her back,” he said; “love’s work is not exhausted in
one effort, but requires time for its fruit. She will come in response to
your love acting through mine. Neither man nor monkey shall defeat me, or
excel me, in this task.”
“Go, then,” she said, “and I will go with you. Love co-operates, and
never commands only.”
“I will go,” he replied: “and not care whether I return. With Sosee at my
side, I could roam forever, indifferent whither we come, so we be still
together. Had we not gone alone before we would not have returned without
Orlee; but we came back to see each other. Love left behind defeats its
own purpose sent before. If we separate we will be hunting each other,
instead of keeping our thoughts on Orlee.”
“Let us then go,” she said, “and keep ourselves and our purposes united,
and resolve not to return till we come with her.”
“I will go; for then will I have everything with me, and nothing to come
back for.”
“If you go for my company only,” she said, “and not for the child, you
will soon have neither. To be my lover you must want what I want, and not
merely want me; and if you do not get it you will soon be without me, for
love must achieve success to be rewarded with love.”
“I want more your wish than my own, and will give up everything for it.”
“Except me.”
“Yes, and you even.”
“You mean thing! I won’t go with you.”
“Well,” he replied, “I won’t go alone.”
“You don’t care for me a bit,” she said.
“You only care for me to serve your purpose,” he retorted.
“I will get Kibboo to go with me,” she next said.
“He may go,” replied Koree, “and I will stay with Alee till you return.
She is a better climber, and can run faster than you.”
“Boo! hoo! she has no hair on her back, and is meaner than you. She ran
from a little snake which I could bite in two.”
“But she loves me, and never quarrels with me.”
“She don’t love you; she only hates me, and wants to make you do so. She
loves Ki, and picked the fleas off him when he came from the Swamp this
evening.”
“Do you love me, Sosee?” he next asked with more tenderness.
“I won’t tell you,” she replied, sobbing.
“Will you go with me, and stay with me?”
“I never said I wouldn’t.”
Here followed a long pause, during which Sosee sobbed and sighed, and
Koree looked about in his mind for some excuse for making peace without
seeming to want to. Sosee came to his relief, however, with a question.
“Koree?”
“Well?”
“Will you go with me to find Orlee?”
Sosee, too proud to ask for his love, had asked for his service.
“Yes,” he replied, glad to give both, “and will not come back till we
find her.”
“Won’t that be delightful! to hunt and find her together!”
“Yes,” he replied, “and let us start to-night, and before morning we may
find her.”
But night and weariness had settled down upon them, and as the older men
and women had determined to wait till morning before recommencing the
search, the two lovers concluded to do likewise, saying that they could
then search with greater vigor.
They then walked awhile, though weary, in the moonlight, and discoursed
of love and Orlee, he speaking of his devotion and she of her confidence
that he would bring back her sister.
“How approvingly,” he said “the monkey in the moon looks down upon our
love.”
“And upon our resolution,” she replied.
They then parted to sleep for the night; and soon their love, their
weariness and their purpose were all forgotten, except in disturbed
dreams, in which he thought of wandering through unknown swamps with
Sosee, and she pictured the rescue of her sister by a heroic lover.
In the silence and longing of that night, however, Koree audibly breathed
the following sentiment, which is the first poetry made by the human race:
What is life
Without a wife?