第7章

His admiration, as outwardly it appeared to be, for Madame Ducret, was evident to the others, but her husband accepted it.It was her due.And, on the Congo, to grudge to another man the sight of a pretty woman was as cruel as to withhold the few grains of quinine that might save his reason.But before the day passed, Madame Ducret was aware that the American could not be lightly dismissed as an admirer.The fact neither flattered nor offended.For her it was no novel or disturbing experience.Other men, whipped on by loneliness, by fever, by primitive savage instincts, had told her what she meant to them.She did not hold them responsible.Some, worth curing, she had nursed through the illness.Others, who refused to be cured, she had turned over, with a shrug, to her husband.This one was more difficult.Of men of Everett's traditions and education she had known but few; but she recognized the type.This young man was no failure in life, no derelict, no outcast flying the law, or a scandal, to hide in the jungle.He was what, in her Maxim days, she had laughed at as an aristocrat.

He knew her Paris as she did not know it: its history, its art.

Even her language he spoke more correctly than her husband or herself.She knew that at his home there must be many women infinitely more attractive, more suited to him, than herself: women of birth, of position; young girls and great ladies of the other world.And she knew, also, that, in his present state, at a nod from her he would cast these behind him and carry her into the wilderness.More quickly than she anticipated, Everett proved she did not overrate the forces that compelled him.

The excursion to the rapids was followed by a second dinner on board the Nigeria.But now, as on the previous night, Everett fell into sullen silence.He ate nothing, drank continually, and with his eyes devoured the woman.When coffee had been served, he left the others at table, and with Madame Ducret slowly paced the deck.

As they passed out of the reach of the lights, he drew her to the rail, and stood in front of her.

"I am not quite mad," he said, "but you have got to come with me."To Everett all he added to this sounded sane and final.He told her that this was one of those miracles when the one woman and the one man who were predestined to meet had met.He told her he had wished to marry a girl at home, but that he now saw that the desire was the fancy of a school-boy.He told her he was rich, and offered her the choice of returning to the Paris she loved, or of going deeper into the jungle.There he would set up for her a principality, a state within the State.He would defend her against all comers.He would make her the Queen of the Congo.

"I have waited for you thousands of years!" he told her.His voice was hoarse, shaken, and thick."I love you as men loved women in the Stone Age--fiercely, entirely.I will not be denied.Down here we are cave people; if you fight me, I will club you and drag you to my cave.If others fight for you, I will KILL them.I love you," he panted, "with all my soul, my mind, my body, I love you!

I will not let you go!"

Madame Ducret did not say she was insulted, because she did not feel insulted.She did not call to her husband for help, because she did not need his help, and because she knew that the ex-wrestler could break Everett across his knee.She did not even withdraw her hands, although Everett drove the diamonds deep into her fingers.

"You frighten me!" she pleaded.She was not in the least frightened.She only was sorry that this one must be discarded among the incurables.

In apparent agitation, she whispered, "To-morrow! To-morrow I will give you your answer."Everett did not trust her, did not release her.He regarded her jealously, with quick suspicion.To warn her that he knew she could not escape from Matadi, or from him, he said, "The train to Leopoldville does not leave for two days!""I know!" whispered Madame Ducret soothingly."I will give you your answer to-morrow at ten." She emphasized the hour, because she knew at sunrise a special train would carry her husband and herself to Leopoldville, and that there one of her husband's steamers would bear them across the Pool to French Congo.

"To-morrow, then!" whispered Everett, grudgingly."But I must kiss you now!"Only an instant did Madame Ducret hesitate.Then she turned her cheek."Yes," she assented."You must kiss me now."Everett did not rejoin the others.He led her back into the circle of light, and locked himself in his cabin.

At ten the next morning, when Ducret and his wife were well advanced toward Stanley Pool, Cuthbert handed Everett a note.

Having been told what it contained, he did not move away, but, with his back turned, leaned upon the rail.

Everett, his eyes on fire with triumph, his fingers trembling, tore open the envelope.

Madame Ducret wrote that her husband and herself felt that Mr.

Everett was suffering more severely from the climate than he knew.

With regret they cancelled their invitation to visit them, and urged him, for his health's sake, to continue as he had planned, to northern latitudes.They hoped to meet in Paris.They extended assurances of their distinguished consideration.

Slowly, savagely, as though wreaking his suffering on some human thing, Everett tore the note into minute fragments.Moving unsteadily to the ship's side, he flung them into the river, and then hung limply upon the rail.

Above him, from a sky of brass, the sun stabbed at his eyeballs.

Below him, the rush of the Congo, churning in muddy whirlpools, echoed against the hills of naked rock that met the naked sky.

To Everett, the roar of the great river, and the echoes from the land he had set out to reform, carried the sound of gigantic, hideous laughter.

End