A moment later, they stopped; they could no longer hear anything. They called out. Still nothing. The gap had come to an end in front of a thorn-bush.
The four men stamped their feet in rage. Where should they go? In which direction? The dense forest enveloped the with its foliage, its bushes and the trunks of its trees, all entangled with creepers and climbing brambles, tenacious in their grip and as resistant as coils of barbed wire.
Again they called out. Ten times, then twenty, their shouts were lost in the thousand sounds of the forest.
“Let’s go back,” said Gorden, “and try to pick up her trail at her departure-point; otherwise, we’ll go further and further astray.
Having retraced their steps and found the hole from which they had started, they shouted again: “Mabel! Mabel! Mabel!”
“I’m here,” she said, suddenly standing up ten meters from the hunters. Disheveled, her clothes in disorder, her hands and face scratched, but her features cheerful and radiant, the young woman advanced toward hem.
“My daughter!” cried Smith, holding out his arms.
Having embraced him effusively, she said: “Forgive me—I’ve made you all anxious again, but there’s no great harm done as you see. Shall we go back to the house?”
“But what about the tiger?” Archibald demanded. “We heard terrible roars.…”
“It wasn’t me who made them. I haven’t seen it.”
“But the gunshots!” said the doctor.
“Oh, the gunshots! They were to guide you to me.”
“Anyway, you’re safe, that’s the main thing,” said Harry Smith. “Another time, though, don’t be so foolish in this damned forest, until I’ve had it cleared.”
“Bah! Then it would lose all its charm.”
Having got back to the fallen tree, they mounted up again, and went back to Riddle-Temple without further incident.
LXXX. Lunch, Music, Sleep
What had just happened had, in sum, taken very little time, and an hour later the riders sat down at table for lunch, in the ancient chamber fitted out as a dining-room. After their appetites had been calmed, for all that anguish had made them very hungry, their tongues were loosened and the conversation naturally turned to the day’s events.
“What animal can have disturbed that tiger?” said Gorden.
“It can’t have happened far away from me,” said Mabel, “for I, too, thought that those roars were addressed to me. I regret it; it would have made me another beautiful fur.”
“Hmm! You have no suspicion—but I’ve hunted tigers several times, and I don’t take such matters lightly.”
“How many times, Mr. Gorden?”
“I’ve only killed one in Borneo, and three in India, but it’s here that I’ve been in the greatest danger.”20
“It seems to me, however, that a well-placed bullet...”
“Certainly—but the difficulty is conserving the necessary composure, and when a tiger looks at you, the bravest of men is affected...”
“Then...”
Mabel stopped abruptly. She had been about to say: “Then I have a right to be proud, for I didn’t tremble much.” But she remembered the lie she had told just in time.
“For myself,” Archibald said, “I admit that this morning’s roaring had an odd impression on me.”
“But you’ve heard those of orangutans, which are no less terrible.”
“Yes, but then I was coming to your rescue; I was indifferent to danger.”
Mabel frowned; that reference to the past did not please her.
“You know, Miss Smith, that I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” Gorden said. “Won’t you give me the pleasure of a little music, in order that I can take the memory of your admirable voice away with me. Perhaps it will be the last time I hear it.”
Mabel smiled in a singular fashion. “With pleasure, my dear friend. Let’s go into the hall. I want to try out the organ.”
When they were installed, Mabel made a sign to Archibald to sit down at the keyboard. Then, when her flirt had played a prelude, she sang “Yankee Doodle” at the top of her voice. Her voice had never been so extensive and so vibrant, had never seemed so vivacious, so exuberant with health and strength.
Gorden, who had reasons for thinking thus, looked at Archibald with a concerned expression. After the national song, Mabel sang a sentimental melody, and then a tango song to a furious rhythm; she seemed indefatigable. But the four men, overwhelmed by the morning’s excitement and fatigue, combined with the heat of the beautiful afternoon, did not take long to feel the effects of a final lullaby and gave in to inclination, and nodded off. Archibald too felt the effect of his own chords and pressed the ivory keys with increasing softness.
“Come on, let’s leave it there,” said the young woman, pointing to the three sleepers. “I believe, my dear, that it won’t be long before you’re imitating them. For myself, with your permission, I’ll go up to my room to do the same.”
Archibald would have liked to retain her, politely, but he sensed that she wanted to get away from him. Scarcely had Mabel gone out than he too let himself slide into the amicable arms of Morpheus.
LXXXI. Juliet Prepares for Romeo’s Coming
A few minutes went by, and then the door opened softly and the blonde head of the young American woman reappeared She looked at the four sleepers in turn, with an ironic smile on her lips. Soon, she was in the garden, heading for the palisade, toward the place where Ouha had once escaped, carrying off Dilou. An enormous boulder blocked the hole the anthropoid had dug. Mabel considered the huge stone for some time, and shook her head.
Nothing to be done, she thought.
Rapidly, she turned to face Riddle-Temple. At that hour of the day, all the domestic staff were having a siesta, like their masters. She went to the sheds in which all the tools and accessories used for repairs were stored, and had no difficulty finding several coils of rope. She took two of them, each about ten meters long, took one up to her bedroom and went back to the garden.
The location of the hole made by Ouha was behind a dense mimosa bush; it was rarely visited by the inhabitants of Riddle-Temple. Having got there, she attached the end of the rope to one of the stays supporting the palisade from inside and threw the rest of the rope over the barrier. Unless chance led one someone from the house to go along that section of the fence, it was impossible to see the rope.
She went back to the house, went up to her room, lay down on the bed and fell asleep, like everyone else, departing for the land of dreams and apes.
LXXXII. The Known Trail
The first of the four sleepers to wake up was Silven Gorden. Seeing his companions still plunged in a profound sleep, he went silently to the door and went downstairs. Wanting to leave at dawn the next day, he still had a few petty details to settle with the Malays. He headed for the door of the vast habitation. The part occupied by the Malays was a large building that must once have been a kind of pagoda prior to the construction of the great Temple.
Those pagodas, repaired and fitted out as modern pavilions, ere twelve in number, six to the right and six to the left of the immense paved courtyard, surrounded by colonnades after the fashion of European cloisters, thus forming a covered gallery around the interior courtyard in which there’re were several doors opening to the sheds situated behind. As Gorden arrived at the pagoda, she saw Eg Merh and To Wang coming in from behind the gallery through one of those doors. The two Malays seemed to be conversing with a certain animation. On seeing the Englishman they hurried toward him.
“What is it?” Gorden demanded.
“Come,” said To Wang, laconically.
The three men went back to the sheds. The two Malays led Gorden to one of the store-rooms. There, they pointed at the ground.
As we have said, the surplus materials and tools had been put away in the sheds. When the distribution had been made, several sacks of cement had split and their contents had spread out over the floor. In that fine dust, fresh footpri
nts were distinctly visible.
Gorden did not have a moment’s hesitation. “Miss Smith’s feet,” he said. “What the devil was she doing here?”
“Looking for ropes,” said Eg Merh. “Look at the traces.”
Indeed, the ropes removed by Mabel had left their imprints in the dust. They followed the trail of footprints around the galleries to the other wing, where the masters’ apartments were located, but the trail grew fainter as it progressed, until it faded out completely.
Without hesitation, they went along the palisade to the bounder. There, they only had to look up to see the moored rope thrown over the enclosure.
To Wang wanted to pull the rope in.
“Leave it,” said the Englishman, “and let’s go back inside. We can talk about it there.”
A few minutes later, they were in the pagoda. Eg Merh summoned his sister and told her what they had just seen.
“The free man has bewitched the mistress,” said Rava. “He must be prowling around in the vicinity, and Miss Mabel wants to let him in.”
“Has she spoken to you about it?” Gorden asked.
“Oh, no—but I can see clearly, and I tell you that the big free man is a sorcerer.”
“Then you think that Miss Smith is forced to obey him, in spite of her own will?”
“Buddha has permitted it. In exchange for speech, he has given the orangutan terrible secrets; if Ouha wishes it, Miss Mabel will go with him.”
“What about you?”
“Oh, the orang doesn’t desire me—and Buddha protects me. I’m a Hindu, but pale faces don’t interest him.”
Gorden reflected. He remembered the morning’s adventure, and Mabel’s strange response on the subject of the roaring they had heard. Connecting the dots, he concluded that the American woman must have seen Ouha again, and that they had come to an agreement. Now, would the anthropoid come alone? Or would there be an organized attack on the Temple? He had seen the expedition leave. If the army of apes had conserved its numbers, resistance was almost impossible; in that case, there was only one thing to do: retreat to White House, where an army of resistance could be organized. If, on the other hand, Ouha was alone, it would be easy to kill him—for, in order to take him prisoner, they would have to catch him, and conditions were no longer the same as before.
In any case, they still had a few hours ahead of them; they had only to watch the palisade. If Ouha was alone, let him in; if he was at the head of his army of apes, keep the horses ready and take flight for White House.
Gorden told the Malays his plan. They approved it, and undertook to set an ambush that night.
LXXXIII. The Alert at Riddle-Temple
That having been agreed, Gorden went to find Archibald, Smith and the doctor, who were still asleep in the hall. He woke the up and brought them up to date with the situation. Archibald and Harry Smith were consternated by Mabel’s complicity. They all approved the plan of defense. In case of an attack by the orangutan army, Mabel would not be warned; she would be taken away by force. In that anticipation, Harry Smith had the tilbury hitched up; other horses, ready-saddled, would be mounted as soon as the alert was sounded. The women in the carriage and all the men on horseback would leave, until they could come back in force.
LXXXIV. A Comparison Unfavorable to Humans
During these preparations, Mabel was sleeping peacefully in her bedroom. She came down for the evening meal, fresh and rested. Her father and his friends could not see anything abnormal about her, except that she seemed a trifle impatient with the slowness of time.
Archibald was finally able to retain her in a corner of the hall, determined, this time, to obtain a definitive response. He began the conversation thus: “I’ve received a letter from John Singleton. His marriage to Bertha Bettmann has been arranged for the end of next month. Bertha wants to know whether she can count on you to be maid of honor. It’s a precautionary request, before approaching you officially. What should I reply? You know that John is one of my best friends; it would be painful for me not to be there for the occasion.”
“Well, who’s preventing you from going?”
“I beg you, Mabel, don’t laugh. Don’t play this cruel game with me, after what has happened between us. Many things, even the most flattering for me, should make me reflect, but I don’t want to argue with myself; I love you too much.”
“Archibald, you know as well as I do that I can’t be a ‘maid of honor.’ As for marrying you, I’m sure that we’d both be making a stupid mistake.” She took his hand. “Understand this, Wilson. There are, in life, facts that can’t be forgotten. If I were still worthy of being your wife, perhaps I’d accept—but that’s still not certain, for Mabel Smith is an eccentric, in the true sense of the word, and I have, above all, a horror of being like everyone else. I can manage a house, like my father’s, where I have only to abandon myself to every whim—provided that they’re not banal, he’s always approved of them—but to go back, especially now, to the social life I led before is beyond my strength and my will-power.”
“It’s not your reason that’s talking now but your fantasy. Make an effort to suppress that need to be exceptional, to play to the gallery, and you’ll become what every woman should be: a fiancée, a wife, a mother, following the routine course of your existence.”
Mabel burst out laughing. “What, me—the founder of a family, consenting to live like everyone else, parading a fat belly around for months, becoming ugly and jaundiced, having morning-sickness, in order, afterwards, in conformity with the customs of the aristocracy, to confide my child to strangers, only seeing my son or daughter as a elegant doll designed to be admired by friends who attach no more importance to it than to some trinket. Do you remember your childhood, as I remember mine?”
“We couldn’t arrive immediately at what we are today.”
“Well, what are we today? You consider yourself to be emancipated because your studies are over, and you can play your role in the human comedy in your turn—a ridiculous role, forcing you to interest yourself in all sorts of turpitudes and domestic filth.”
“If that profession displeases you I’ll take up another.”
Mabel stamped her foot angrily. “You’re decidedly mad, my dear. What difference does your profession make to me? Whether you were a solicitor, or a scientist like Goldry, or anything whatsoever, wouldn’t you, even so, be in contact with the humanity that I find repugnant in every way?”
“In that case,” said Archibald, brutally, “You’ll have to go back to the apes.”
“Perhaps. In any case, you’ve taken a long time to realize it.”
Archibald let himself fall into a chair and hid his face in his hands. Mabel considered him momentarily, and shrugged her shoulders. She was about to leave but, looking up, she saw that her friends, grouped on the other side of the hall, were watching her. She understood that Archibald had, in a sense, only served as their spokesman. Unable to suspect that her secret was known to everyone, she merely judged that it was merely one more attempt to lead her to a marriage they all desired.
She sat down facing the young advocate. “I’ve hurt you, Wilson, and I’m sorry. You know how wicked I am, don’t you? But why pester me incessantly? I’m not asking you, or your friends, for anything except to be treated as a comrade, not to be watched like a precious object that it’s necessary to protect from thieves.”
Archibald raised his head and looked her in the face. “For me, you’re more than a precious object—and I do indeed fear thieves. You seem to be forgetting that you gave yourself to me. You’re mine, and I’ll punish anyone who dares to steal you from me...”
“That’s the tone you’re taking? Well, I swear to you that I’ll break any shackle. There are needs for sensation in me that you’re incapable of satisfying. I’ve proved that, since it was necessary for you to set the evidence before my eyes. Don’t be under the illusion that I gave myself to you. No, I took you, and since you’re pressing me to the end, you were the lose
r in any comparison.
Archibald leapt to his feet, raising his fist. Mabel raised herself up to her full height. “Ah! You are wounded, you men, more than anywhere else, in your male vanity! Why don’t you hit me, Archibald?”
Wilson stepped back, lowering his head.
“You have all kinds of false ideas, my poor boy. Now that I’ve opened your eyes, go and live your American life, and leave me to live mine as I wish.”
She left him, and, without affectation, went over to her father and his guests.
“Do you know, gentlemen, that this seems to me to be a veritable ambush. I spotted it the moment your delegate came to kill me. So you’re in great haste to get rid of me, my dear Papa?”
“You know that’s not true, Mabel—but there’s a limit to everything, and this flirting has gone on long enough.”
“With Wilson? I don’t say…Father, have you any intention of marrying again?”
“Oh! No, certainly not.”
“Then let me live with you.”
“But this country’s dangerous for you/”
“The decision has obviously been made. I’m the ultimately precious object. Have one of the rooms in the Temple lined with steel and lock me in it, as if in a safe.”
“Dinner is served, Mademoiselle,” said a domestic, from the threshold of the dining-room.
“To the table gentlemen! You keep to keep your strength up to defend your golden fleece!”
With a mutinous gesture, Mabel unfastened her hair and, shaking her head, caused her splendid tresses to flow over her shoulders, covering her like a mantle of living gold. Taking her father’s arm, she preceded her guests.
At that moment, To Wang and Eg Merh came in; as usual, they had come to sit down at the masters’ table. They exchanged a glance with Gorden.
“He’s here,” said Eg Merh, rapidly.
Ouha, King of the Apes Page 22