He
devoted the greater part of his time to sleep, but he was obliged
to watch like a
spider in its web that the moment of his deliverance
might not escape him, if anyone should pass the line marked by the
horizon. He had sacrificed his shirt to make a flag with, which he
hung at the top of a palm tree, whose
foliage he had torn off. Taught
by necessity, he found the means of keeping it spread out, by
fastening it with little sticks; for the wind might not be blowing at
the moment when the passing traveler was looking through the desert.
It was during the long hours, when he had
abandoned hope, that he
amused himself with the
panther. He had come to learn the different
inflections of her voice, the expressions of her eyes; he had studied
the capricious patterns of all the rosettes which marked the gold of
her robe. Mignonne was not even angry when he took hold of the tuft at
the end of her tail to count her rings, those
graceful ornaments which
glittered in the sun like
jewelry. It gave him pleasure to contemplate
the supple, fine outlines of her form, the whiteness of her belly, the
graceful pose of her head. But it was especially when she was playing
that he felt most pleasure in looking at her; the agility and youthful
lightness of her movements were a
continual surprise to him; he
wondered at the supple way in which she jumped and climbed, washed
herself and arranged her fur, crouched down and prepared to spring.
However rapid her spring might be, however
slippery the stone she was
on, she would always stop short at the word "Mignonne."
One day, in a bright
midday sun, an
enormous bird coursed through the
air. The man left his
panther to look at his new guest; but after
waiting a moment the deserted sultana growled deeply.
"My goodness! I do believe she's jealous," he cried,
seeing her eyes
become hard again; "the soul of Virginie has passed into her body;
that's certain."
The eagle disappeared into the air, while the soldier admired the
curved
contour of the
panther.
But there was such youth and grace in her form! she was beautiful as a
woman! the blond fur of her robe mingled well with the
delicate tints
of faint white which marked her flanks.
The profuse light cast down by the sun made this living gold, these
russet markings, to burn in a way to give them an indefinable
attraction.
The man and the
panther looked at one another with a look full of
meaning; the coquette quivered when she felt her friend stroke her
head; her eyes flashed like lightning--then she shut them tightly.
"She has a soul," he said, looking at the
stillness of this queen of
the sands, golden like them, white like them,
solitary and burning
like them.
"Well," she said, "I have read your plea in favor of beasts; but how
did two so well adapted to understand each other end?"
"Ah, well! you see, they ended as all great passions do end--by a
misunderstanding. For some reason ONE suspects the other of treason;
they don't come to an
explanation through pride, and quarrel and part
from sheer obstinacy."
"Yet sometimes at the best moments a single word or a look is enough--
but anyhow go on with your story."
"It's
horribly difficult, but you will understand, after what the old
villain told me over his
champagne. He said--'I don't know if I hurt
her, but she turned round, as if enraged, and with her sharp teeth
caught hold of my leg--gently, I daresay; but I, thinking she would
devour me, plunged my
dagger into her
throat. She rolled over, giving
a cry that froze my heart; and I saw her dying, still looking at me
without anger. I would have given all the world--my cross even, which
I had not got then--to have brought her to life again. It was as
though I had murdered a real person; and the soldiers who had seen my
flag, and were come to my
assistance, found me in tears.'
" 'Well sir,' he said, after a moment of silence, 'since then I have
been in war in Germany, in Spain, in Russia, in France; I've certainly
carried my carcase about a good deal, but never have I seen anything
like the desert. Ah! yes, it is very beautiful!'
" 'What did you feel there?' I asked him.
"'Oh! that can't be described, young man! Besides, I am not always
regretting my palm trees and my
panther. I should have to be very
melancholy for that. In the desert, you see, there is everything and
nothing.'
" 'Yes, but explain----'
" 'Well,' he said, with an
impatientgesture, 'it is God without
mankind.' "
End