CHAPTER XXXVII.

We are really alarmed. The demand has its ludicrous aspect, but, preferred by Munza, whose character we know, it is formidable as well. How are we to decline the honour he thinks he is doing us, without wounding beyond redress his pride both as a man and a king?

Suppose that, to gain time, we reply that his proposition cannot be accepted without some consideration; suppose we allow him to hope, and our position becomes thereby more dangerous? De Morin is averse from this, and is of opinion that we should appear scandalized, without, at the same time, wounding the King's vanity. We agree with that view of the case, and send word to Munza that he is insulting our sister by asking her to share the lot of his numerous wives.

What impression will these words produce on the King? He is not the man to take matters quietly and acknowledge himself beaten. He is on the point of sending us another message and we are in terrible anxiety.

No, this time he leaves off talking, and acts.

Ten soldiers, carrying the huge drums, already described, which throughout Africa are used to summon the people to hear the orders of their chiefs or kings, left the palace and proceeded in various directions through the village, one of them performing his allotted task at a short distance from our encampment. The Monbuttoos quickly responded to the summons, formed themselves into a large circle, and immediately afterwards cries of joy resounded from all sides.

Nassar, who mingled with the crowd, came running to us with the news that the King had invited his subjects to the palace, where he was going to distribute amongst them a large number of his wives.

This was Munza's way of replying to us. At one fell swoop he was getting rid of his whole harem, and offering it to his subjects in order that he might afterwards be able to say to us, "I have no longer a wife, nothing now stands in the way of your giving me your sister." He could not have hit upon a more ingenious device, nor have placed us in a greater difficulty, but our dismay was mingled with a feeling of pity for all these creatures, who, from the palace, were descending to cabins, and were being converted from royal wives into simple villagers.

Horror! a fresh piece of intelligence, far more serious, has reached us. In the distribution about to be made, the mothers-in-law and sisters-in-law of Munza, the wives whom, according to the customs of the country, he has inherited, are alone included. As for the eighty wives, whose acquaintance we have made, and who, after having belonged to Munza, cannot become the property of his subjects, they are to be beheaded. This is the way in which the potentates of Africa settle their burning questions, heads and difficulties being got rid of together.

Shall we allow Munza to give Madame de Guéran so startling a proof of his love? Shall we stand by as passive spectators of the bloody sacrifice, the gigantic hecatomb he purposes to accomplish? We do not dream of any such thing; every consideration impels us to save these unfortunate creatures, whom one word from us, one unlucky message has condemned to death.

But what are we to say to the King? If we ask for mercy for his wives he will not fail to reply in his usual logical style—

"Their number does not frighten your sister, and she consents to live in my harem?"

Yes, that is sure to be his answer. And, on the other hand, if he kills his wives, will he not be in a position to say—

"The motive you alleged as the ground for refusing my request has now disappeared, and, therefore, you cannot help complying with it."

It is impossible to find a way out of this difficulty, and whilst we are discussing it, the massacre is, in all probability, commencing.

On, then, to the palace, without further delay!

Twenty of our escort, selected by Nassar, were told off to accompany us.

Delange and I seized our most trustworthy pistols and surest rifles. De Morin alone was almost unarmed.

When we were expressing our astonishment at this, he interrupted us by saying, with considerable excitement—

"All that I foresaw has come to pass. Our position is as serious as it can well be—but I can save you. Do not question me, do not ask me for any information, for I have no time to answer you. Give me full power, and I will turn this idiotic love of Munza's to our own advantage. Before three days have passed away you shall leave this country. You shall march towards the south, and, for the last part of the journey, you shall have at your disposal resources of which you never dreamt."

What did he mean? How are we to leave this country? What idea has come to him thus suddenly?

Whilst Delange and I looked at him with amazement, Madame de Guéran, ever prompt and resolute in the hour of danger, held out her hand to de Morin, and said to him—

"Do what you will. As far as I am concerned, I approve of it beforehand, and, if you fail, no reproach of any kind shall ever pass my lips."

"Thanks," said de Morin, "a thousand thanks."

Then, turning towards us, he asked us whether we ratified the approval already expressed by Madame de Guéran.

"Can you doubt it?" said I.

"You have an idea," said Delange in his turn, "and we have none. Consequently, we cannot prefer our opinion to yours, and I give you _carte blanche_, my dear fellow."

"To the palace!" exclaimed de Morin.

We mounted our horses, and set off at full gallop, our escort following in our wake.

Madame de Guéran remained in camp, under the protection of the Arab interpreters and a few soldiers.

Miss Poles, whose self-respect, whatever de Morin may say, has received a serious blow, and who is still disheartened, has taken refuge in her tent. The idea has not occurred to her to rush to the succour of the eighty wives who, three days ago, were anxious to tear her in pieces.

Five minutes sufficed to bring us to the palace. Not a single soldier attempted to stop us; we were recognized as friends of the King, and, moreover, we brooked no delay.

We alighted in front of Munza's residence, and requested to see the King. He at once gave orders for us to be admitted to his own room, and he eagerly came forward to meet us.

"The white men consent at last," said he, with a smile, "to visit me."

"Yes," replied de Morin, "we have a communication to make to you with regard to our sister. Will you hear us?"

"I will."

"We have just been informed that you intend to give her a proof of your love by sacrificing your harem. Is that so?"

"Yes," said the King. "Three hundred women have already left the palace, and will not return any more. As for the rest," he added, very calmly, "I have condemned them to death."

Delange and I shuddered. But de Morin, without a tremor, still pursuing his own idea alone, asked the King when they were to die.

"In an hour," said Munza. "The executioners are getting ready now."

We breathed again; we were in time.

The King took our friend by the hand and led him towards an adjoining apartment, and we followed him.

In a corner of this room, on a species of dais, were displayed massive copper salvers, the pride of the Monbuttoos. Munza pointed to them and, with the utmost coolness said—

"This evening each of those salvers will hold a head, and I shall send them all to the Sultana, your sister, so that she may see for herself that I have not one wife left."

Nothing could exceed the gallantry of this resolution, nor could any sacrifice, either of himself or other people, have been proposed with a better grace.

Fortunately for the royal wives, we were blind to all this forethought, and bent upon saving them.

"Our sister," resumed de Morin, "has commissioned us to ask you to spare the lives of these women."

"She is not jealous of them, then?" asked the King, turning pale.

De Morin, who appeared to read Munza's heart as if it were a book, hastened to reply—

"She is jealous of your harem, but not of these creatures. So long as they do not belong to you, nothing further is needed."

The King smiled once more; but he remarked to our interpreter that he could not get rid of these women in any other way than by putting them to death, the law enacting that the wives of a reigning sovereign could not under any circumstances become the property of his subjects.

"Your subjects!" replied de Morin, quickly. "Be it so. But we are not your subjects."

"Do you want me to give you my wives?" asked Munza, in astonishment.

"We want you to give them to our sister as slaves."

"Oh!" exclaimed the King, apparently delighted. "She wants to torture them by way of revenging herself on them?"

"Possibly so," replied de Morin, quietly.

I confess that at this moment neither Delange nor I understood his drift one bit. We imagined that he was compromising Madame de Guéran to too great an extent, and that he had entered into too serious an engagement with Munza; but we had given him full power, and we were bound to let him act as he thought best.

The African King, after having reflected for a moment, said to de Morin—

"I agree. My wives shall not be put to death, and they shall be given to your sister. She may do what she likes with them, and I will burn all their houses—I will not have any harem. That is her wish, is it not?"

"Quite so," said our friend, who now, in his turn, waited for Munza to state his intentions and unfold his plans.

The King hesitated. The tyrant, the despot without pity or remorse, was as a child in all that concerned the woman he loved.

"When," he asked at length, "will your sister deign to take up her abode in my palace, and the place of all those whom I have just given to her?"

"As soon as she can obtain the consent of her father," replied de Morin, unhesitatingly.

Delange and I exchanged despairing glances. Our friend had evidently lost his head. Munza was quite as much astonished as we were; but in his case amazement and anger were blended.

"Your father is not with you," said he; "and, therefore, his consent cannot be obtained."

"In that case our sister cannot marry you," replied de Morin. "She is bound to respect the custom of her own country, and, as far as that goes, this custom prevails amongst all the tribes we came across before reaching the Monbuttoos. To gain the daughter, is it not always necessary to apply to the father?"

"And how am I to apply to yours?" exclaimed Munza, becoming furious. "He is far, far away in your country, and I cannot get at him."

"If he were far away," replied de Morin, in the same quiet tone that he had used throughout the interview, "I should not have mentioned him. But our father has not been in our country for a long time; he is now a prisoner in a kingdom close to yours, towards the south."

Munza scanned de Morin closely, seeking to read his very eyes and discover the truth there.

Delange and I breathed more freely, and we began to have a vague notion of our friend's project. As he had said, he wanted, in the common interest, to take advantage of the King's love; he was bent upon making Munza help us to find M. de Guéran, and, instead of describing him as the husband of our companion—which would have been dangerous both for her and for us—he passed him off as her father.