THE SUPPER.
When the buccaneer entered the chevalier hardly knew him. Rend-your-Soul
had put off his hunter's costume; he wore a coat and nether garment of
guinea cloth, thickly embroidered with alternate rays of white and deep
red; his black beard fell upon a shirt of dazzling whiteness, which was
close like a doublet by a row of small coral buttons; a scarf of red
silk, hose of the same color, and shoes of doeskin with large
ribbon-bows, completed a costume most elegant for a buccaneer, and
showing to advantage his tall and robust figure; in the brilliant light
of the candles his complexion seemed less brown than in the daytime; his
black hair, curling naturally, fell carelessly on his shoulders; and
finally, his hands were beautiful, in spite of his rough following as a
hunter.
At the sight of the buccaneer, so transformed and almost unrecognizable,
in spite of the hard character which his thick beard always gave to his
face, the chevalier said to himself, "I should prefer that this person
had at least a civilized appearance; it would be too humiliating for
Polypheme de Croustillac to triumph over a rival so plain as the one
which he at first sight appeared to be. But, while I do not doubt this
Nimrod, I must say that Blue Beard has a singular manner of acting.
Could she not have given him his dismissal in some other way than in my
presence? I hate to so cruelly use my advantage in crushing a poor
rival; for, after all, a man is a man! This poor buccaneer is going to
find himself in a pitiable position. But let me hold firm; and show Blue
Beard that I am not the dupe of her confidence concerning her deceased
husbands, and that I am not afraid to die like them."
Croustillac ended this reflection when the pretty widow, indicating the
adventurer by a triumphant nod of the head, said ingenuously to the
buccaneer, "This gentleman asks for my hand in marriage. You see you
were wrong in persisting to me that I would not find a fourth husband.
So you can imagine I have very quickly accepted the chevalier's
proposal; it was too good an opportunity to let slip."
The buccaneer did not reply at once. Croustillac mechanically put his
hand on the hilt of his sword, in order not to be without means of
defense in case the hunter, exasperated by jealousy, should wish to do
him an injury. What was his surprise when he heard Rend-your-Soul say,
after seating himself in a large chair, "I have always said to you, my
beautiful one, just what that comrade Hurricane said, 'Marry, a thousand
devils marry! if you desire to, for husbands are rare, for one never
knows what you will do; but one thing is certain, they never live long.'
As for me, I do not approve your little proceedings. I have more than
once seen your little white hands prepare certain beverages----"
"Oh, fie! fie! bad man!" said Angela, shaking her finger at him.
"Nevertheless, it is true," said the buccaneer. "What is the secret of
that gray powder of which I had only given a pinch to my servant who was
devoured by my dogs. What infernal concoction was it?"
"Yes, madame, this gray powder--tell us its compounds," said
Croustillac.
"Oh, you indiscreet man!" said Angela, looking at the buccaneer, with an
air of annoyance. "The chevalier will take me for a child; how shall I
appear in his eyes if he thinks I occupy myself with such trifles?"
"Have no fears on that score, madame," said Croustillac; "I am
delighted, I assure you, to have these new evidences of your youthful
candor! Well, worthy Nimrod, this gray powder?"
"Truly, I am very much ashamed!" said Angela, hanging her head and
lowering her eyes, and at the same time making a charming little
grimace.
"Imagine, then," said the buccaneer, "that I gave my servant just a
little pinch of powder in a glass of brandy."
"Well?" said Croustillac, with interest.
"Well, for two days he was so gay that he laughed from night till
morning and morning till night."
"I do not see anything bad in that," said Croustillac.
"But wait!" continued the hunter. "My servant did not do this from
amusement, he suffered the torments of the damned; his eyes were
bursting from their sockets, and he said, between his paroxysms of
laughter, that such torture as he endured was beyond belief. The third
day he suffered so that he fell as if in a fit, and remained thus a long
time; all due to the pinch of madame's gray powder. It may not surprise
you to learn that madame's second husband was as gay as a lark, and that
he died very joyfully."
"Oh! heavens, as if one could not commit a little mischief without being
reproached by you," said Angela, like a capricious child.
"Listen, comrade! she calls that a little mischief," said the hunter.
"Just imagine! her second husband laughed so hard that the blood burst
from his nose, eyes and ears. But whatever he laughed about, he did so
as if he had seen the most amusing thing in the world. But that did not
prevent him from saying, like my servant, that he would rather have been
burned at a slow fire than suffer such gayety; he also died, laughing to
the last, and swearing like a devil."
"There! you go too fast," said Blue Beard, shrugging her shoulders.
Then, whispering to the Gascon, "Friend, do not be afraid--I have lost
the secret of the gray powder!"
The chevalier, in an attempt to smile, made quite a grimace. He had left
France at a time when the fearful practice in poisons was at its height,
and people talked only of the heir's powder, the powder of the aged, and
the widow's powder. The names, even, of certain poisons were cited with
fear. Now Blue Beard's laughing powder could not but give rise to the
most doleful reflections on the part of the chevalier. "So," he said to
himself, glancing defiantly at Angela, "does this creature deal in
chemistry and draughts--is this story true?"
"What ails you, brother?" said the buccaneer, struck by Croustillac's
silence.
"You have made him afraid of me," said the widow.
"No, my beautiful lady, no," said Croustillac, "I was thinking that it
must be very pleasant to die thus of laughter!"
"Faith, you are right, brother, one had better die so than as the last
husband died." And the buccaneer shuddered with horror.
"It appears that the death of the latter must have been more terrible
than the former," said Croustillac, with affected carelessness.
"As to that story, comrade, I will not tell you that, you would be
afraid."
"I? afraid?" and the Gascon shrugged his shoulders.
Blue Beard leaned over and whispered again to the Gascon, "Let him tell
it, friend; this tale, at least, is worth the trouble. I am going to
trap Rendsoul."
Then, addressing herself to the buccaneer, "Well, go on; speak! Why do
you not speak? Do not pause in the middle of the road. You see the
chevalier is listening with all his ears--go on, speak. I do not wish
him to buy, as they say, a 'a cat in a bag.'"
"You should say a tigress in a bag," replied, laughingly, the buccaneer.
"Ah, well, sir," addressing Croustillac, "Fancy this third husband a
man, handsome, of dark complexion, thirty-six years of age, a Spaniard
by birth. We came across him at Havana."
"Heavens! tell it quickly," said the widow, "the chevalier is impatient
to hear."
"It was not a gray powder that he tasted, this one," replied the
buccaneer, "but a drop, one drop only, of a pretty green liquid
contained in the smallest flask I ever saw in my life, for it was made
of a single hollow ruby."
"That is simple enough," said Angela, "the strength of this liquid was
such that it would dissolve or break any flask which was not made of a
ruby or a diamond."
"You can judge, after that, chevalier," said the hunter, "of the
pleasure which this liquid must have given our third husband. Certainly
I am neither over-tender nor timid, but, after all, it is difficult to
become accustomed to seeing a man who looks at you with green eyes,
luminous, and set so deep in their orbit that they have the effect of a
glowworm in the depths of a subterranean cave."
"The fact is," said Croustillac, who could not prevent a slight shudder,
"the fact is that at first this would appear strange."
"That is not all; listen to the rest," said the widow with an air of
perfect self-satisfaction.
The buccaneer continued: "That was only his usual condition, poor man,
having eyes like a glowworm, but what was most frightful was when madame
gave a supper to Hurricane, myself and Youmaeale. She dipped a camel's
hair brush into the little ruby flask and compelled the unhappy Spaniard
to approach, and passed this brush over his eyelashes. Then one would
have said that from the eyelashes of this unhappy man there issued a
thousand rays; his green eyes, sunken in his head, protruded and rolled
in their orbit like two globes of fire, and threw such varied and
continual light that they sufficed to light up our feast, while the
wretched man stood immovable as a marble statue, saying in a piteous
voice, 'My head furnishes fuel for the lamps of my eyes!' It was well
that the poor man could not see the fire," said the buccaneer, bursting
into laughter at this cruel jest. "And when the supply of oil in the
lamp failed, the madame's husband went to join his predecessors, in
order to leave his place open to you."
"What Rendsoul tells you is correct," said Blue Beard. "He is very
indiscreet, as you see, but he is truthful. And so am I. I have singular
ideas and caprices, I know; my God! I do not wish to represent myself as
better than I am. Above all, I would be frank with you and conceal
nothing. You would ask why my husbands are the only victims of my
playfulness? I have no power over others. And I always warn them what
will be their fate. It is that which makes it so difficult for me to
find a husband. It is on these conditions alone that Satan signs my
contract, and then this contract, signed by him, acquires a virtue as
wonderful as mysterious. Alas! my friend, may he soon sign ours. I have
thought of two preparations which are entirely different from the
others, and the effects of which are truly magical."
All this time Croustillac experienced a strange sensation, which he
attributed to the fatigue of the day and the evening; it was as if a
lethargy possessed his brain and almost took from him the power of
resisting by use of his reason the impression made by these strange
tales of the widow and the buccaneer. Without believing these fabulous
inventions, he was nevertheless frightened by them as one is by a bad
dream. The chevalier hardly knew whether he was awake or asleep; he
looked at the buccaneer and the widow by turn, with a stupefied air,
almost terrified. Finally, being ashamed to show his credulity, he rose
abruptly and paced up and down a few minutes in the hope that movement
would dispel the torpor which he felt overwhelming him.
Croustillac did not wish to be a butt for these two persons, and he
almost regretted having embarked so imprudently in this mad adventure.
He said to Blue Beard resolutely, "Come, come, you are jesting, madame;
do not trouble yourself; I comprehend the joke. I do not believe you as
ferocious or as much of a magician as you wish to appear; to-morrow, I
am sure I shall learn the secret of this comedy, which to-night, I avow,
gives me a kind of nightmare."
These words of the chevalier, spoken from no motive but to show the
dwellers of Devil's Cliff that he did not intend to be their dupe,
produced on Blue Beard a singular effect. She cast a terrified glance at
the buccaneer, and said haughtily to Croustillac, "I do not jest, sir;
you came here with the intention of marrying me; I offer you my hand,
and I will tell you upon what conditions; if these are agreeable to you,
we will be married in eight days; there is a chapel here; the reverend
Father Griffen, of the parish of Macouba, will come hither in order to
unite us; if my conditions do not meet with your approval, you can quit
this house, where you never ought to have come."
As Blue Beard proceeded her face lost its look of wicked cajolery; she
became sad, almost menacing. "A comedy!" she said; "if I thought you
took all that has been said as such, you should not remain a moment
longer in this house, sir," she continued, in a changed voice, betraying
her deep feeling.
"No, the chevalier must not take it all as a jest," said the buccaneer,
looking steadily at the Gascon.
Croustillac, naturally impatient and vivacious, experienced vexation at
not being able to discover what was true and what feigned in this
singular adventure. He cried then, "Well, zounds! madame, what do you
wish me to think? I encounter a buccaneer in the forest; I impart to him
my desire to meet you; he informs me abruptly that you will yourself
tell me that he has the good fortune to be in your good graces."
"And then, sir?"
"Then, madame, though I have warned him, the buccaneer has brought me to
you, by whom I have been received with the greatest hospitality, I must
acknowledge; I am introduced to you; informed of my desires, you
yourself offer me your hand, you inform your friend the bull-hunter of
my wishes."
"Well, sir?"
"Madame, up to that time all went well; but now the buccaneer wishes to
inform me, with your consent, that I am reserved for a fourth deceased
husband, and to succeed a man who laughed himself to death, and one
whose eyes served as lights for one of your orgies!"
"It is the truth," said the buccaneer.
"How, the truth?" continued Croustillac, recovering his lost vivacity.
"Are we in the land of dreams? Do you take the Chevalier de Croustillac
for a simpleton? Do you think I am one of those weak-minded creatures
who believe in the devil? I am not a goose, and I also ask twenty-four
hours in which to demolish all these ridiculous stories."
Angela became very pale, and threw a look of agony and indescribable
fear on the buccaneer, and replied to the chevalier with ill-concealed
anger, "Ah, who told you, sir, that all that has taken place is natural?
Do you know why I, young and rich, offer you my hand the first moment I
see you? Do you know what this union will cost you? You believe yourself
to have a strong mind; who told you that certain phenomena would not go
beyond your comprehension? Do you know _who_ I am? Do you know _where_
you are? Do you know in consequence of what strange mystery I offer you
my hand? A comedy?" repeated Blue Beard bitterly, regarding the
buccaneer with an appearance almost of fear; "can you not be made to
understand that all this is not a play, sir? It is hardly to be believed
that your good angel brought you here, at least."
"And then, after all, who told you that you would ever go out of this
place?" said the buccaneer coldly.
The chevalier recoiled a step, trembling, and said:
"Zounds! no violence, at least--or if so----"
"If so, what can you do?" said Blue Beard, with a smile which appeared
to the Gascon implacably cruel.
Croustillac thought, too late, of the doors he had shut behind him, of
the difficult road he had had to traverse in order to reach this
diabolical house; he saw himself at the mercy of the widow, of the
buccaneer, and of their numerous slaves. He repented heartily and most
earnestly of having so blindly entered upon such an enterprise. On the
other hand, Croustillac, in contemplating the enchanting figure of Blue
Beard, could not believe her capable of such bloodthirsty perfidy.
Nevertheless, the strange avowals she had made him, the terrible reports
concerning her, the threats of the buccaneer, began to make some
impression upon the chevalier. Just then a mulattress came in to
announce supper.
During the gloomy reflections of the adventurer, Angela had a few
minutes' conversation with the buccaneer, carried on in a low voice; she
was, as a result, apparently satisfied and reassured, for, little by
little, her brow cleared, and the smile again came to her lips. "Come,
brave knight," said she gayly to the chevalier, "do not be afraid of me
any more; do not take me for the devil; and do honor to the modest
supper that a poor widow is only too happy to offer you."
So saying, she graciously offered her hand to Croustillac. The supper
was served with a sumptuousness, a refinement, which left no doubt in
the chevalier's mind as to the enormous fortune of the widow. Only, we
would say to the reader that the silver-gilt service was not engraved
with the royal arms of England, as were the objects which were placed
only before Blue Beard.
In spite of the sprightliness and ideal grace of the widow, in spite of
the witty sallies of the buccaneer, the supper was a gloomy one for
Croustillac. His habitual assurance had given place to a kind of vague
inquietude. The more charming Angela seemed to him, the more she
exercised her fascinations, the greater the luxury which surrounded her,
the more the adventurer found his distrust increased. In spite of their
absurdity, the strange tales of the buccaneer kept returning to the
remembrance of the chevalier--both the tale of the gray powder which
caused one to die of laughter, and the liquid in the ruby flask which
changed the eyes into brilliant lamps. While these recitals might not be
more real than a bad dream past--the Gascon, from dread of some infernal
dish, could not prevent himself from distrust of the viands and wines
with which he was served. He observed the widow and the buccaneer
closely; their manners were perfectly correct. Rendsoul bore himself
toward Blue Beard with the proper degree of familiarity which a husband
displays toward his wife before a stranger. "But then," the chevalier
asked himself, "how does this reserve accord with the cynicism of the
widow, who declared so cavalierly that the Caribbean and the filibuster
shared her good graces with the buccaneer, without the latter being
jealous in the slightest degree?" The Gascon asked himself still further
what could be the object of Blue Beard in offering her hand to him, and
what price she would put upon this union. He was too clear-sighted not
to have noticed the lively emotion, sincere on the part of the widow,
when she showed such indignation that the adventurer should believe her
capable of playing a comedy in offering her hand. On this point
Croustillac had not deceived himself. Blue Beard had been deeply moved;
she had been in despair on seeing that the Gascon took for a jest or a
comedy all that had passed at Devil's Cliff. She had been reassured on
seeing the vague disquietude which the face of the chevalier showed in
spite of himself. He was lost in vain conjectures. Never had he found
himself in a situation so strange that the idea of a supernatural
influence or power should present itself to his mind. In spite of
himself, he asked himself if there was nothing unnatural in what he had
seen and heard. The fact that he felt the first heavy agony of a
superstitious terror struck him most disagreeably. He did not dare to
acknowledge to himself that more determined men, wiser and more learned
men than he, had, within the century, and even the latter part of it,
testified a belief in the existence of a veritable devil. And then,
finally, the adventurer had been until then much too indifferent in the
matter of religion not to believe in the devil, sooner or later.
This fear passed rapidly through the mind of the chevalier, but it would
leave, for the future, an indelible mark; however, he reassured himself,
little by little, at seeing the pretty widow do honor to the supper; she
showed herself too fond of the pleasures of the table to be a spirit of
darkness.
The supper at an end, the three entered the drawing room, and Blue Beard
said to the chevalier in a solemn voice, "To-morrow I will inform you on
what conditions I will give you my hand; if you refuse them, you must
leave Devil's Cliff. In order to give you a proof of my confidence in
you I consent that you shall pass this night in the interior of this
house, although I never accord this favor to strangers. Rendsoul will
show you the rooms reserved for you." Saying this, the widow entered her
own apartment. Croustillac remained absorbed in thought.
"Ah, well, brother, how do you feel?" said the buccaneer.
"What is your motive in addressing such a question to me? Is it
sarcasm?" said the chevalier.
"My motive is simply to know how you like our hostess."
"Hum, hum--without wishing to detract from her, you must confess that
she is a woman very difficult to estimate, at first sight," said
Croustillac, with some bitterness. "You cannot be surprised if I
consider the subject before I answer your question. To-morrow I will
tell you my opinion, if I am able to answer, myself."
"In your place I should not consider the subject," said the buccaneer.
"I would accept, with eyes closed, all that she offered me, and I would
wed her; for, by my faith, one cannot tell who will live or who die;
tastes change with years. The days which succeed each other are
dissimilar."
"Ah, well, have done with your proverbs and parables," said the Gascon,
exasperated. "Why do you not marry her yourself?"
"I?"
"Yes, you!"
"Because I do not wish to die of laughter or have my eyes converted into
lamps."
"And do you think that I wish to do so?"
"You?"
"Yes; why should I more than you wish to see the devil sign my contract,
as this woman playfully says?"
"Then do not marry her; you are your own master; that is your lookout."
"Certainly, it is my affair, and I will marry her if I choose! _Peste!_"
exclaimed the chevalier, who began to fear that he was losing his wits
by reason of this chaos of strange ideas.
"Come, brother, be calm!" said the buccaneer; "do not worry yourself. Do
you doubt I will keep my word? I have brought you to Devil's Cliff; the
prettiest woman in the world offers you her hand, her heart and her
treasures; what more would you have?"
"I would understand all that has taken place, everything that has
happened to me for the past two days, all that I have seen and heard
to-night!" cried Croustillac, exasperated beyond bounds. "I would know
if I am awake or dreaming."
"You must not be too exacting, brother. Perhaps this night will bring
you a dream which will explain and enlighten you upon these subjects.
Come--it is late, the day has been hard; follow me." And, saying these
words, the buccaneer took up a candle and made a sign to the chevalier
to follow him.
They passed through a number of sumptuously furnished rooms, and a
little gallery, at the end of which they reached a very elegant
bed-chamber, whose windows opened on the beautiful garden of which we
have already spoken.
"You have been a soldier or a sportsman, brother," said the buccaneer,
"you will know, then, how to get along without a servant. No man, except
myself, Hurricane, and the Caribbean has ever passed the first door of
this place; our beautiful hostess has made an exception in your favor,
but this exception must be the only one. Knowing this, brother, may God
or the devil keep you in his care." The buccaneer went out, shutting
Croustillac in by means of a double lock.
The chevalier, much disturbed, opened a window which looked out on the
little park. It was guarded by a trellis of steel netting which it was
impossible to break, but which did not hide a view of the beautiful
garden which the moon illumined with its soft light.
Croustillac, ill at ease, examined the wainscoting and floor of his
chamber, in order to assure himself that they did not cover any trap; he
looked under his bed, sounded the ceiling with his sword, but failed to
discover anything suspicious. Nevertheless, by way of further prudence
and to make sure, the chevalier laid down in his clothing, after having
placed his faithful sword at his side, within reach. In spite of his
resolve not to go to sleep, the fatigue and emotions of his journey
plunged him quickly into a profound slumber.
* * * * *
Angela, seated in the room of which we have spoken before, said to the
buccaneer: "Unfortunately, this man is not so stupid and credulous as we
had thought. Heaven grant he may not be dangerous!"
"No, no; reassure yourself," said the buccaneer. "He has shown good
stuff, but our two narratives have struck him; he will remember this
night for a long time, and, what is better, he will talk about it.
Believe me, all the exaggerations which he will use to embellish his
recitals will only add to the strange stories afloat concerning Devil's
Cliff."
"Ah!" cried the widow, still alarmed at the remembrance of the
adventurer saying that all was a comedy and that he would investigate
it, "in spite of myself I am terrified."
"There is nothing to be afraid of, I tell you, Madame Blue Beard," said
the buccaneer gayly, kneeling before Angela, and looking at her
tenderly. "Your diabolical reputation is too well established to suffer
the slightest diminution; but acknowledge that I have an imagination,
and that my gray powder and my green liquid accomplished wonders."
"And my devil who witnesses my contract," said Angela, laughing merrily.
"That is well; I love thus to see you laughing and merry," said the
buccaneer. "When I see you sad and dreamy I am always afraid our retreat
bores you."
"Will you please hold your tongue, Monsieur Rendsoul? Have I the
appearance of wearying near you? Are you jealous of your rivals? Ask
them if I love them better than I do you. Have you not procured me this
distraction and the sight of this Gascon, to whom I owe the most
delightful amusement? I was unreasonable. Except for my stupid fears,
this evening was charming, because you were here, your eyes on mine, my
lover. Ah! the moonlight is superb, let us go for a walk in it
outdoors."
"Beyond the house?"
"Yes; we will walk on the great cliff, you know, where one sees in the
distance the ocean. On such a beautiful night it will be delicious."
"Come, then, capricious child, take your mantle," said the buccaneer,
rising.
"Come, Sir Black Beard, take your Spanish sombrero and be ready to carry
me in your arms, out of reach of stumbling, for I am lazy."
"Come, Madame Blue Beard; but you do not wish to visit our guest?"
"I am sure the poor devil has some horrible dream. Ah, well, to-morrow
we will give him a guide and send him away."
"No, keep him here another day. I will tell you what Father Griffen
thinks of it; amusements are rare, he will amuse you."
"Heavens! what a beautiful night," said Angela, opening the blinds of
the window. "It will make me so happy to take a walk."
Opening the outer doors of Devil's Cliff, the buccaneer and the widow
left the house.
* * * * *
Contrary to his expectation, Croustillac passed an excellent night. When
he awoke the following morning the sun was already high in the heavens;
the blinds which were on his chamber windows had been lowered,
fortunately, which softened the light. The chevalier had lain down with
all his clothing on. He arose and went over to the window, and opened
the blinds partially. What was his astonishment to see, at the end of a
long walk bordered with tamarinds, that formed a screen almost
impenetrable to the light, Blue Beard walking, negligently, leaning on
the arm of a Caribbean of vigorous stature. This Caribbean was entirely
dyed, according to custom, that is to say, painted with a kind of
luminous composition of a reddish brown; his hair, black and glossy,
parted in the center, fell on either side of his cheeks; his beard
seemed carefully trimmed; his perfectly regular features partook of the
character of calm severity peculiar to the savage; on his neck shone
large crescents of carracolis (a kind of metal of which the West Indians
alone knew the secret, and composed of gold, brass and silver).
These ornaments, of a brilliant red, were curiously chased and incrusted
with green stones, the color of malachite, and to these the Indians
attribute all kinds of marvelous virtues. The Caribbean was clad in a
loose white garment having a border of blue fringe; the large and
sweeping folds of this costume would have served as a model for the
drapery of a statue. With the exception of the neck, right arm naked to
the shoulder, and the left leg, this cotton garment enveloped the
Caribbean completely; on his wrist he had bracelets of carracolis also
incrusted with green stones; his leg was half hidden by a kind of sandal
made of bands of cotton stuff of a vivid color and very picturesque.
Angela and Youmaeale, for this was he, were walking slowly, and came
directly toward the window from the shadow of which the Gascon watched
them. A pink girdle about the beautiful figure of the widow confined a
long robe of white muslin; her blond curls fell around her fresh and
youthful face, which the adventurer had not seen before by day. He could
not refrain from admiring her white and clear complexion, her rosy and
transparent cheeks, her eyes so limpid and blue.
The evening before, Angela had appeared to Croustillac in brilliant
apparel, and disturbed by the strange confidences of Blue Beard and the
buccaneer, the admiration of the chevalier was mixed with distrust,
impatience and fear, and he had been more alarmed than touched by the
beauty of Angela; but when he saw her in the morning so simply pretty,
he experienced a profound emotion; he was moved; he forgot Devil's Cliff
and the cannibal, and thought only of the beautiful creature before him.
Love, yes, true love took possession suddenly of the chevalier's heart
just before so little in love. Though the growth of this sudden passion
was so rapid and instantaneous, it was none the less sincere.
Doubtless the evening before, Croustillac had suffered from too much
agitation, too sudden astonishment, too strange preoccupations, to
really appreciate Blue Beard; refreshed by a night's sleep, the past
seemed like a dream and Angela appeared as if for the first time to him;
admiring the supple figure outlined by the perfect fit of her white
muslin robe, he forgot the brocaded dress studded with precious stones
with which he was so impressed the preceding evening. He sought vainly
to discover, in the ingenuous and charming features which he now beheld
the diabolical smiles of the singular woman who had made such sinister
pleasantries concerning her three deceased husbands. In fact, poor
Croustillac was in love. Perhaps it was he and not Blue Beard who had
changed; but with his new love came all kinds of cruel jealousy.
Seeing Angela and Youmaeale walking together so familiarly, the
adventurer experienced agony and new disquietude increased by an intense
curiosity. Alas! what a sight for him. At times, Angela dropped the
Caribbean's arm in order to pursue, with the ardent enjoyment of a
child, the beautiful gold and blue insects, or to pick some lovely
fragrant flower; then she would suddenly return to Youmaeale, always
calm, almost solemn, who seemed to have a feeling of grave and tender
protection for the young woman.
At times the Caribbean gave his hand to the widow to kiss. Angela, happy
and proud at this favor, carried the hand to her lips with an air at
once respectful and passionate; she seemed a Caribbean woman accustomed
to live a submissive and devoted slave to her master. Youmaeale held a
magnificent flower which the widow had given him. He let it fall to the
earth. Angela bent quickly, and picking it up, handed it to him, while
the savage made no gesture to prevent her, or to thank her for this
attention.
"Stupid and gross animal!" cried Croustillac indignantly; "would one not
think he was a sultan? How can that adorable creature bring herself to
kiss the hand of a cannibal, who had no other way of sounding the
praises of the good priest Simon than that he had eaten him! Yesterday a
buccaneer, to-day a cannibal, to-morrow, without doubt, a filibuster.
But she is a veritable Messalina!" continued Croustillac, at once
despairing and feeling within himself a victim to a real passion.
The widow and the Caribbean approached nearer and nearer the window
where Croustillac stood watching them, and he could hear their
conversation. Youmaeale spoke French with the slight guttural accent
natural to his race; his words were few and brief. Croustillac overheard
these words of the conversation:
"Youmaeale," said the little widow, leaning on the arm of the Caribbean
and looking tenderly at him, "Youmaeale, you are my master, I will obey
you; is it not my duty, my sweet duty, to obey you?"
"It is thy duty," said the Caribbean, who used that form, but which
Angela did not. His dignity as the man demanded this.
"Youmaeale, my life is your life, my thoughts are yours," returned
Angela; "if you should tell me to put to my lips the deadly juice of
this poisonous apple, I should do it, to show you that I belong to you,
as your bow, your cabin, your canoe, belong to you."
Saying these words Angela showed the silent Caribbean a yellow fruit
which she held in her hand, and which contained the most deadly and
subtle poison. Youmaeale, after subjecting Angela to the most piercing
scrutiny, made an imperative gesture holding up the forefinger of his
right hand. At this sign, the widow quickly raised the deadly fruit to
her lips, and, had it not been for a movement still more rapid on the
part of the Caribbean she would perhaps have given this fatal proof of
passive obedience to the slightest caprice of her master. A movement of
affright as fugitive as lightning, contracted the impassive features of
the Caribbean as the widow lifted the apple to her lips; but he quickly
recovered his coolness, lowering the hand of Angela, kissing the young
woman gravely on the forehead, and saying to her in a sweet and sonorous
tone, "It is well."
At this moment the two pedestrians were so close to the window of
Croustillac that the latter, fearing to be discovered eavesdropping,
withdrew suddenly into his chamber, and said "How she frightened me with
her poison. And this savage animal, who looks like a lobster, as much
from the color of his skin as from his movements, says to her, 'It is
well,' when this adorable woman, at a sign from him, would have poisoned
herself; for once in love, women are capable of anything." Then, after
some moments of cruel reflection, the Gascon exclaimed, "It is
inexplicable that a woman should be in love with a man such as this one
appears to be; with two, for this is evident; although it is an
enormity! But it is impossible that she should love three at the same
time; this descends to monstrosity--it is worthy of the lower regions.
How! Blue Beard, linked to a buccaneer, and a filibuster, also has a
frightful fancy for this cannibal who eats missionaries, without taking
into account in addition that she proposes to me to marry her! Zounds!
this is enough to make one lose his head. Decidedly I will not remain
here; no, no, a thousand times, no! What I have seen has made me ill. I
will not become so stupid as to take this woman; I should lose all my
advantages. Real love makes one as stupid as a goose; during this last
hour I have already lost more resolution than since my arrival here. My
heart has melted; I feel myself inclined to do the most ridiculous
things. Fly, fly; this is madness, a dream. I was born poor; I have
always been poor; I will die poor. I will leave this house, I will seek
out the worthy captain of the Unicorn. After all," said Croustillac,
with a discouragement singular in a man of his character, "there are
worse things than swallowing lighted candles to amuse Captain Daniel."
These sad reflections were interrupted by the entrance of the old
mulattress, who knocked at his door and informed him that the negro who
had waited upon him in the capacity of valet the previous day was
waiting for him in the outer building.
Croustillac followed the slave, was dressed, shaved and thus went to
wait upon Blue Beard in the same room where he had waited the preceding
night.
The widow shortly appeared.