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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


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