Rapidly, Mabel, by her proud and gentle grace by her very fragility and protected energy, came to the point where she sometimes feared nothing, at certain times, but her own sin.
Nature, the supreme mistress of all creatures, was in the process of vanquishing the American virgin, awakening in that willful, undisciplined temperament the irresistible force of sexual sensuality, making her the bacchante of ancestral instincts, rapid dominatrices, effacing the virtue of a superficial and artificial civilization, ready to bring closer, to confuse and to marry, in a double spasm, the prehistoric man and the attractive and marvelous, adorably exiting and lovely daughter of an American billionaire, to couple them, bridging in an ecstatic groan of pleasure fifty centuries of civilization.
XXXV. Nuptial Preludes
The American woman often got up at daybreak to wander through the forest, studying and locating from every point of view all the picturesque sights of the region. On a few occasions she even left before dawn, to climb one of the surrounding mountains, and to watch the sun rise therefrom.
There was one peak of which she was particularly fond, because, directly to the east, a higher peak masked the horizon. With the rapidity of tropical zones, dawn did not exist, in a manner of speaking; the light surged forth suddenly behind that mountain, and everything was illuminated before the sun, masked by that barrier, had made its appearance. Abruptly, it rose; the mountain seemed to melt and allow a river of incandescent lava to flow.
Then, as the sun continued its ascension, the summit was clearly outlined against the blazing sky, and from every rocky spur, luminous rays extended to the zenith. Everything brightened, and as outlined in successive planes; there were golds, ochers, violets, from the most intense tones to the most tender and delicate gradations.
And every day, even though the atmospheric conditions sometimes seemed identical to those of the day before, the sunrise was different. The young woman sensed these marvelous splendors without analyzing them. She contemplated and admired; she enjoyed nature, so to speak, blissfully, as one eats or digests.
Sometimes, Ouha went with her. At first, the ape did not understand, but in a spirit of imitation, he struck the same pose as Mabel; soon, however, it seemed that, by virtue of contact with an intelligence more complete and more refined, his own awoke. Ouha’s yawns became less frequent, his eyes more attentive. Once, for him, the sunrise had always been similar; now he took account of differences in the colors, in their shades; their diffusions interested him. That peak, which he had seen as violet the day before, was pink today; that snowy summit which, on some days, was pure white, seemed at other times to be ruby red.
One day, Ouha, putting his hand on Mabel’s shoulder, pointed out a new spectacle with his finger, an effect of the sun that they had not yet seen. The young woman followed the development of his mind with great interest.
Similarly, the constant sight of the monster attenuated his ugliness. Thus far—she had been a prisoner of the apes for two months—Ouha had not appeared to suspect that she had a sex like his other spouses. For him, this woman was a being apart, who could not have any equivalent among other creatures. Having largely what he needed to satisfy his senses with his other wives. Ouha no longer had anything for Mabel but admiration.
Furthermore, he was fearful of the revolver, the weapon that had killed one of his best friends mysteriously, with a red hole in the skull: the magical jewel that only killed in the young woman’s hands. He had made his decision; Mabel passed for his wife with regard to the tribe; she was the queen, of whom he was proud; he, Ouha, was admired and envied; it was believed that he had what he did not have; he was happy, or very nearly. It requires a great deal of luck to be happy!
Gradually, that restraint, which had initially reassured the American woman, came to seem a sort of disdain, from which, internally and not entirely consciously, her vanity as a pretty woman suffered at the same time as her senses. In that environment of free nature, they began to awaken. The sight of couplings—and that spectacle was frequent—exacerbated her flesh; her young and healthy blood demanded caresses. While her body, in that untrammeled milieu, took on a more robust development, her mind inclined toward impossible embraces. That disposition brought her closer to Rava, the only being of her sex who had, thus far, conserved an appearance of humanity among the apes. Rava had been obliged to submit, like Dilou, to simian coupling, but while the black woman had promptly reverted to the level of the brute, the Malay woman had remained a woman.
In fact, Rava was a woman of superior status, who a series of unfortunate adventures had caused to fall among “the Damned.” In spite of the abjection of that fall, she had conserved her self-respect—which, among her former companions, had made her a being apart. To Wang had accepted the fugitive Eg Merh into his tribe when, after a quarrel over a card game, the later had shot and killed his opponent. The young man, arrested and tried, condemned to hard labor for life, had escaped and found refuge among the Damned. Then he had written to his family to reassure them with regard to his fate, requesting his relatives to do everything possible to obtain a pardon—which was possible, the law and the Dutch government occasionally oaring amnesties that maintained the prestige of the Metropolis in the archipelago, making it a kind of divinity that the naives both feared and respected.
Rava, who adored her brother, came to join him, thus serving as an intermediary between him and the family. Rava, being free, made frequent voyages to Brunei or Imbuk, bringing subsidies that rendered Eg Merh’s exile less dolorous.
To her anguish in being Ouha’s prisoner and wife was added anxiety with regard to her brother’s fate. Had Eg Merh perished in the final catastrophe? Should she mourn him or retain hope?
Rava, therefore, belonged to one of the elevated castes of Malaysia; her education was fairly complete; she could speak and write Dutch fluently. Unfortunately, she only knew a few elementary words of English, learned from illustrated magazines in which an image was explained in two or three languages.
Thus, after some time, Mabel observed that her companion in captivity was, if not of her world, at least well above the condition in which she had previously supposed her to be. The two women became closer and, with the aid of a few common terms in their two languages, and by designating objects, the prisoners ended up comprehending one another and were soon speaking a picturesque Anglo-Dutch that was capable of translating all their impressions. Rava told her story, and Mabel affirmed her hope that, if her brother had survived, he would come to rescue them.
For her part, Mabel had not given up all hope of escape, thanks to her excursions through the forest. She had been able to go as far as the old battlefield. Over an extent of several miles the forest no longer existed. Heaps of ashes and a few charred tree-trunks marked the place. She had advanced courageously, searching the masses of debris, sometimes encountering human bones, weapons, objects of encampment, all burned and twisted by the fire, but their number did not correspond to the whole of the little army. There was a chance that some has escaped. In that case, perhaps those, knowing that the great apes did not kill women, would come to rescue them.
But time passed. Gradually, Mabel adapted to the savage life—strangely enough, more rapidly than Rava. The latter sensed it confusedly and strove, by reminding her of the past, to maintain her friend’s memory of her homeland and family. But the reminders seemed rather to irritate the American woman.
In truth, Mabel was subject, at that moment, to a horrible crisis, and when, at certain times, she saw Rava sullenly obeying a summons from Ouha, she followed her with an almost envious gaze. She did not have the same impression, however, when it was Dilou or one of the two female orangs. The latter did not count, but Rava was a woman like her.
Why not her, then? The ape’s platonic admiration annoyed her. At times, she almost desired that he would throw himself upon her to violate her. Of course, she would kill him afterwards, and then herself. In that case why not kill herself right away? Twenty times over
she took the revolver out of its holster, but dared not. What? She was alive, full of strength, health and beauty! What would become of her? A heap of ashes that would return to universal life. Oh, if only she were sure of another life! Like many modern intelligences, though, she hesitated between spiritualism and materialism. Oh, if only she had had a religious belief, like Rava! She lacked faith; her mind, at present, was capsized. The American woman, refined by all the luxuries, was inclining, slowly, but more every day, towards a naturalism devoid of affectation and modesty.
Is there only one law of nature?
Humans, alone, have invented virtue in order to distinguish themselves from all other beings and mount a semblance of opposition to eternal laws; that hypocrisy irritated Mabel now and led her to hate humankind. The truth is that the creative forces of love were working within her dully. Habitude diminished horror, and that precious springtime beauty was ready, like everything in the world, to breathe and perpetuate itself, to participate in the universal thrust of life.
XXXVI. The Wedding Night
One night—one of those electric nights in which the atmosphere seems to be impregnated with lasciviousness—Mabel, drowsy and enervated, was writhing on her bed of odorant plants, which was renewed every day, and whose odor of newly-cut grass further obsessed her feverish body, unable to bear the contact of any garment. She had taken off every scrap of clothing.
It seemed that she heard a slight rustling close by; she opened her eyelids slightly. Fiery eyes were gleaming nearby. She felt hot breath running along her entire body; hard hands, made gentle for the caress, gripped her shoulders.
She made as if to pull away—but her senses were suddenly more powerful than her will, and, with full arms she embrace a hairy giant, who, with infinite precaution, extended himself over her.
XXXVII. In the Ardent Shadow
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XXXVIII. Morning Relapse
When Mabel awoke in the morning, she had a moment of real despair. Heavy breathing nearby attracted her gaze. Lying on his side, Ouha was asleep, one of his long arms folded under his head, the other hand clutching one of his feet. That simian attitude rendered him more ridiculous. She considered his enormous face, his bloody lips, his blue eyelids, the small ears scarcely projecting from the midst of a thick brown mane. Was it to that monster that she, the aristocrat had surrendered herself? Of what clay was she made, then? She, Mabel Smith, the daughter of a billionaire, before whom all of Yankees manhood had knelt, was now the mate of an ape! That was too much. It was necessary to put an end to this ridiculous disgrace. She put out her arm toward the place where the revolver was.
That movement awoke Ouha; he opened his eyes. Wildly, the American woman seized the weapon and aimed it at the Beast. Ouha appeared to comprehend; his eyelids fluttered and his eyes took on an expression of infinite tenderness. He sat up on his knees, his long arms extended to either side of his enormous body, still gazing at the woman.
Consenting to death, as she had consented to love, he waited.
It was a decisive moment. To Mabel, it seemed that her brain was enveloped by a whirlwind of flame. Her crazed eyes examined the Beast; from the hideous muzzle her gaze descended over her lover; then her face turned crimson; she uttered a muffled groan; her entire body shivered—and she fell backwards, defenseless in her soul.
When she came to, she stood up painfully. She experienced an intense weariness, but the fever that had tortured her for several days had disappeared. She sat down and let her forehead fall into her hands. Thus, she had succumbed, this time without having the excuse of sleep and the night.
For a long time, she remained plunged in the abyss of her thoughts. The orangutan left her to her meditation.
XXXIX. A Reflux of Human Dignity
Suddenly, she raised her head. Someone had come into the cave: Rava. She advanced slowly, looking at Mabel with pitying horror. Then, the latter perceived that she was naked. Turning her back to the Malay, she hastily put on some clothes. Then she turned round and looked the young woman up and down.
“What now?” she said.
“You too?”
“Oh well,” sniggered the American woman. “I’m as good as you, I think. And then, to be honest, I wanted it. I love him. I have the right to make of myself what I please. Go away! Leave me alone!”
Rava had let herself fall to her knees.
“Oh, Mabel, Mabel!” Her eyes filled with tears and she rolled on the ground, sobbing.
The American felt her reason vacillating. Her pride finally got the upper hand. She repeated: “I wanted it. It was me! It was me who wanted it!”
“May Allah protect you!” cried Rava. “She’s gone mad!”14
Mabel burst into wild laughter. “Yes, probably, I’m mad, or I’m having a terrible dream. I’m no longer a woman; I’ve abandoned humanity. I’ve taken a step backwards; I’m no longer a woman, I’m a female, the mate of an ape!”
She burst out laughing again, and then said: “We must get away. Even if I die in the forest, I have to go. Otherwise…I believe I’ll end up loving Ouha!”
“Oh!” said Rava, with a gesture of horror. “You’re right, we have to go. But how can we? We’re watched constantly.”
“What does it matter? Let’s risk everything for everything. If I stay here one more day, I’ll no longer be able to go. But where’s Ouha?”
“I think there’s a council.”
“Then let’s leave immediately.”
“We won’t get very far without being recaptured.”
“I have an idea!” Mabel exclaimed. “We need to flee by means of the river. The orangs don’t like to get wet; the current is rapid. We’re going to construct a little raft, quickly. We can be ten miles away by nightfall. The apes will think we’re going to bathe, as usual. They won’t suspect. Let’s go.”
Rava shook her head dubiously. Nevertheless, she hastened to pile what provisions there were in the cave into a basket she had woven, and they both went out.
XL. The Ape Council
There was, indeed, a council and on the far side of the clearing, a tumult was audible advertising a numerous assembly. The motive for the extraordinary meeting was that the orangs stored their provisions of bananas, guavas, banyans, etc., in a cave in the mountain-side, but for some time, the ape in charge of the food-supplies had been noticing losses. Sentinels had been posted, and the thieves had been discovered.
It was the entire clan of smaller apes that was guilty: baboons, mandrills and ouarines15 had joined forces for the robbery. The apes, too large to slide through the opening that ventilated the cave, had recruited the little sapajous to their cause. The latter, thanks to their slender agility and dexterity, had formed a chain and passed the booty to those outside.
For a long time, hostility had reigned between the other primates and the orangs. The latter, heavier and more sedentary, continually had to suffer the thefts and pestering of the small monkeys. The orangs were certainly the stronger, but the others were multitudinous. Even Ouha had quarreled with the gang, who, in a pure spirit of mischief, amused themselves
by exciting the orangs’ wrath. The number of inferior monkeys had increased greatly because, thanks to the fire lit by Silven Gorden and his friends, all the animals inhabiting the forest had been driven back to the far side of the river, where the flames had stopped, into the region that as Ouha’s domain.
Finding abundant nourishment in that country, and separated from their old forest by the burned zone, the monkeys had taken up residence there, to the great detriment of the orangs, whose domain was incessantly ravaged by the host of small creatures. For some time already, food had been getting scarcer, and now, to cap it all, these pillages were depleting the Orangs’ reserves. There could be no more hesitation; it was necessary to drive out and expel the horde of raiders and punish them harshly, so that they would not come back.
So, as Mabel and Rava, unaware of the threat of war, prepared to flee, there was considerable agitation in the assembly. (The narrator will not say “parliament,” for all citizens had equal rights there and could take part in the discussion.)
Fréü, one of the most distinguished orators, had taken the floor and, accompanying himself with a very expressive pantomime, explained the dangers run by the nation, confronted with this invasion of barbarians. Everyone shared his opinion in deploring the invasion of the fatherland. The words “Harr-ha! Harr-ha!” were continually on the orator’s lips—or, rather, in depths of his throat. Harr-ha!—the fatherland—Harr-ha!—for which it was necessary to fight victoriously or die.
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