CHAPTER XXXV.

FROM MISS BEATRICE POLES TO MISS EMILY——

"These lines, my dear Emily, will, in all probability, never reach you. It is even very likely that after I have written them I shall destroy them. But I must talk to you; I cannot help myself. My heart is overflowing, and I must turn the stream of its confidence towards you. In whom can I confide, if not in you? Who amongst my travelling companions deserves to be my confidant? MM. Périères, de Morin, and Delange are out of the question. I have no right to inflict such pain, so bitter an awakening on them, nor to deprive them in an instant of their cherished illusions. I cannot say brusquely to them— 'I have made a mistake, gentlemen; I do not love you.'

"As for Madame de Guéran—you know very well, my dear Emily, that to repose confidence in a rival may be dangerous.

"So, in my isolation, I turn to you, and begin. We are at this moment in the country of the Monbuttoos, at the court of King Munza, a man about thirty-five years of age, in the full bloom and vigour of manhood. He is tall, his figure is good, and his splendid features recall the fine old statues of the monarchs of ancient Ethiopia. He is not a negro—do not labour under that delusion—he is a dusky white man—a very handsome man, too, artistically dressed and with a majestic mien. Moreover, he is a man of intelligence, and a very powerful sovereign into the bargain.

"Nevertheless, Munza, who seems to think of nothing but our comfort, and with whom we are on the best possible terms, absolutely refuses to allow us to leave his dominions. What is his reason for that? you will ask. A very simple one. The King, who, up to this time, has never seen any women but his hideous Monbuttoo specimens, destitute of grace and costume alike, no sooner set eyes on two white women, young, agreeable, well made, and good looking, than he fell in love with one of them. Although a savage, he has a heart which is quite as warm as one born in Europe; nay, warmer, perhaps, on account of the climate.

"But again, you will ask, which of the two white women is the chosen one? To whom, to Madame de Guéran or to me, has this handsome Paris awarded the apple? The question is a very natural one, and the answer to it involves a point on which we here are very much divided.

"MM. Delange, de Morin, and Périères, who have been in love with me for some time past, as you know, are naturally anxious that Munza should not enter the lists against them. Consequently, they persist, in all honesty, in treating me as out of the question altogether, and maintaining that the eyes of the King turn towards the Baroness, that all his sighs are for her.

"I know, my dear Emily, exactly what you are going to say—that, though a mistake might be made about the object of a sigh, there can be none about the direction of a look. And then you proceed to enquire towards whom Munza's glances turn?

"Madame de Guéran, my dear friend. I cannot pretend that it is not so, and I owe you the truth at all events. I owe it to myself as well, for these lines will, in all probability, never reach you, but are destined to comfort my own heart alone.

"But do you remember that charming comedy, _le Chandelier_, written by a French author, Alfred de Musset? If you do, you will have guessed the drift of what I have already written. The King, with his remarkable shrewdness, and a delicacy very rare amongst the negroes, is diverting all suspicion, and, in order not to compromise me, allows it to be thought that he is in love with Madame de Guéran. Nothing could be more natural.

"Such is the position of affairs—the most powerful King in all Africa is in love with your dearest friend. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and I was quite prepared for it. But I did not anticipate that things would come to such a pitch that he wishes, not only to keep me near him, but my companions also, as well as our escort and bearers.

"Now, have I any right to impede the progress of the caravan, to postpone M. de Guéran's rescue, if he is a prisoner, or to leave any longer in obscurity certain geographical points which our journey towards the south will certainly clear up?

"I do not think so, and, seeing that I am now only annoying, embarrassing, and compromising everybody, I ought to put myself on one side altogether, and sacrifice myself for the public good. I will seek out the King, and will say to him, 'Sire, you ought not to mix my affairs up with those of my friends; if I have done wrong in pleasing you, you should not hold others responsible for my fault. Do not keep them any longer in your dominions; matters of importance compel them to proceed southwards. But, since you do not wish to separate yourself from me, let my destiny be accomplished! I will be your prisoner, your slave, and one day I will be your wife, if some Protestant minister, who may perchance be passing through this country, will only bless our union.'

"Yes, my dear Emily, thus will I speak to him, and he cannot help being touched by my words, or avoid setting my friends at liberty. But I think I hear you exclaim, 'and you, my poor Beatrice, what will become of you in the midst of the eighty legitimate wives of this monarch, to say nothing of his three or four hundred less lawful spouses?"

"On that head do not at all be uneasy. I will soon bring them to reason, and, moreover, the King, since he has loved me, has banished them from his presence, if, indeed, he has not taken leave of them altogether. I shall soon reign with undisputed sway in Munza's heart. I have a noble mission to fulfil by the side of this man, a savage now, but in the future to be civilized by my love. He will blush for his past life, and for the ignorance and sloth he has permitted amongst his subjects. I trust that before another year has passed away he will have earned the title of Munza the Beloved, the father of his people, and that he will have founded in his kingdom many useful institutions. Possibly I may even prevail upon him to renounce his absolute power, and establish Constitutional Government and a parliament!

"In all this I have said nothing about my own feelings, and you will naturally be anxious to know if I, with my delicate and refined tastes, can ever attach myself altogether to this being, exceptional undoubtedly, but, nevertheless, uncultivated and with habits totally opposed to my own?

"I quite recognize the justice of your anxiety, but I will allay it by a word—I love him already!

"Yes, I have no hesitation in confessing it to myself—his appearance, his position—why should I keep that in the background?—the respect paid to him by all, the almost worship of which he is the object, have all made a singular impression on me. Is our love ever entirely free from vanity? Lastly, his great love moved me—how could it have been otherwise?

"Do not be hard upon your friend, nor reproach her with inconstancy. Spare me your reproaches, and do not ever mention the names of MM. de Morin, Périères, and Delange. I really did imagine myself in love with them one after the other, but, good heavens! what a mistake I made! I never felt for them as I feel now! And how far, how very far, are these more or less fair haired, blue-eyed, ordinary men, removed from—my Munza!

"And, besides, there were three of them; I had only to choose—the very reason, perhaps, why I did nothing of the kind. Yes, my thoughts were always floating from one to the other; I was irresolute, going first to this and then to that one, without coming to any decision. If I could have said to myself—this is the one you love; he is superior to both the others—the matter would have been at an end; I should have been his for life, and should have passed Munza without seeing him. But these gentlemen are too good, they are too much alike, and their very perfections, which I have ever been ready to acknowledge, throw me into a terrible state of embarrassment. To-day I am at all events freed from that. And, yet, that is not quite true. I have just written out on paper a short speech intended for Munza, but how can I repeat by word of mouth what I have written for you? He knows a few words of Arabic, which he once heard from Aboo-Sammit, and, thanks to my prodigious facility for languages, I have picked up the Monbuttoo dialect to a certain extent. But the nervous state I shall be in when I am with him, and his agitation, will both combine to prevent our expressing ourselves clearly. I am afraid I cannot take an interpreter with me, for there are occasions in one's life when an interpreter would be anything but an assistance.

"In the general interest, and for the sake of my own peace of mind, I must speak to the King as soon as possible; but, alas! I do not know even how to get to him. Courage! I will see him to-night. I must see him to-night. As soon as everybody around me has retired to rest, I will make my way towards the Palace, and, then—then I will trust to fortune.

"I leave you, my dear Emily, for I must go and dress—not from any feeling of vanity; Munza and I are far beyond that, but out of deference to his Royal Majesty."