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The Sahara

by Pierre Loti

81 of 111 · Contents · Download EPUB

Part III

I

After Jean had thus rid himself of Fatou-gaye, he was conscious of a deep feeling of relief at having carried out this act of vengeance. When he had neatly arranged in his soldier’s wardrobe the small quantity of baggage he had brought with him from Samba-Hamet’s house, he felt freer and happier. He seemed to have advanced a step nearer to his departure, to that blissful, “final discharge” which was now only a few months away.

At the same time he was sorry for Fatou. He had intended to send her his pay once more, to enable her either to set up house anew or to leave the town.

But as he preferred not to see her again, he had entrusted the spahi Muller with this errand.

Muller had visited Samba-Hamet’s house and had seen the woman griot. But Fatou had gone.

“She was in great trouble,” said the little slave girls in Yolof, forming a circle round him and all talking at once. “In the evening she would not eat the kouss-kouss we had made for her.”

“During the night,” said little Sam-Lélé, “I heard her talking aloud in her sleep, and even the Laobé dogs yapped, which is a very bad sign. But I could not understand what she was saying.”

She had undoubtedly gone away a little before sunrise, with her calabashes on her head.

A macauco woman, Bafoufalé-Diop by name, the woman griot’s chief slave, a person of a very inquisitive disposition, had followed her from a distance, and had seen her turn off by the wooden bridge, over the narrow arm of the river, in the direction of N’dar-toute.

“She had the look of knowing quite well where she was going.”

It was thought in the quarter that she must have sought a refuge in the house of a certain old and very rich Marabout in N’dar-toute, who admired her greatly. Christian or not, she was good-looking enough to be free from all anxiety as to her future.

For some time to come Jean avoided passing Coura n’diaye’s dwelling, and it was not long before he had dismissed the matter entirely from his thoughts.

It seemed to him, moreover, as if he had recovered his white man’s dignity, which had been sullied through contact with that black flesh.

Now, when he looked back, that feverishness of senses, abnormally excited by the African climate, inspired in him nothing but deep disgust. And he constructed for himself a new scheme of existence, based upon continence and integrity.

In future he meant to live in barracks, like a sensible man. He would save money in order to take back to Jeanne Méry a collection of souvenirs from Senegal—fine mats, which would some day adorn their home, the subject of his dreams; embroidered pagnes, whose rich colours would evoke the admiration of his countrymen, and which would serve for splendid tablecloths in their household; and above all, earrings and a cross in fine Galam gold, which he would order especially for her from the most skilful native craftsmen. She would wear them for ornament on Sunday when she went to church with the Peyrals, and certainly no other young woman in the village would possess such beautiful jewellery.

This tall spahi, poor fellow, who had so grave an air, was nursing in his uncultured brain a multitude of almost childish projects, simple dreams of happiness, of family life and tranquil goodness.

At this time, Jean was nearly twenty-six. He looked older than his years, as is usual with men who have led a hard life in the fields, on the sea, or in the army.

He had changed greatly during these five years in Senegal.

His features were more pronounced; he was swarthier and thinner, and had acquired a more soldierly bearing and more of the Arab look. His shoulders had expanded, while his waist had remained slender and supple. His manner of wearing his fez and turning up the ends of his long moustache had a soldierly smartness, which became him to admiration. His strength and remarkable physical beauty inspired in all who came in contact with him a kind of involuntary respect. They distinguished between him and his comrades in the manner in which they spoke to him.

A painter might have selected him for a consummate type of noble charm and manly perfection.

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