Chapter 29
Bakahenzie had come to announce that the certain magic “things,” which a messenger had brought from the white man’s country, had arrived. Although he could not expect an answer to his letter to Lucille in Europe, there might be others; and such an event as the receipt of a mail once in six months is apt to be exciting. Birnier forgot his rôle for the moment, leaped to his feet preparatory to rushing out to meet the runner, but a grunt from Bakahenzie and an alarmed cry from Mungongo were just in time to prevent him from jeopardizing the stability of the world and all that he had won by violating the tabu by stepping beyond the sacred ground. Other gods and emperors have indeed wrecked empires through a lesser aberration. Even realization of the penalty was scarcely enough to hobble his impatient legs, for the very suggestion of what the mail represented melted the fetters of this native world as wax in the sun.
Indeed more effort of will was required to return to his god-like throne upon the camp-bed, and to amble through the etiquette which discussion of such an important matter demanded, than to carry the idol on his back through the forest and bear the sound thrashing to boot. Then as a further test, Bakahenzie slowly developed a dictum that the magic things could not be permitted to enter the sacred enclosure until they had been disinfected from the multitude of evil eyes [pg 300] through which they must have passed. At that the god came near to swearing or weeping, he did not know which.
But as he fumed inwardly he recollected that at any moment Zalu Zako and his troops might return; or if the battle had gone the other way, then zu Pfeiffer; in the former case the excitement would still further delay the goods and mail, and the latter event might entail the complete loss. As well as the growing irritation caused by Bakahenzie’s interminable list of tabus was the necessity of proclaiming, or rather gaining, his authority before he could be of any assistance either to Bakuma, the white men or himself. Indeed he had been waiting the arrival of these goods to secure the subjection of Bakahenzie to his will. He determined that the trial should be now. Merely to demand would, he felt, arouse the obstinacy of the chief witch-doctor, who would never, unless compelled by force or cunning, give up the reins of power which to him was the raison d’être of his life. Birnier must attack through the line of least resistance. With the carriers bearing the mail was a case of “imprisoned stars” (rockets) and a special cinema outfit, so that Birnier felt that he could afford to explode the last manifestation of magic which remained to him. After a judicious interval, he said to Bakahenzie:
“O son of Maliko, is not my tongue the tongue of the Unmentionable One?”
“He who knoweth all things knoweth that which is white,” retorted Bakahenzie.
“Verily. Therefore do thou cause to be brought that which is come, that which the fingers of the Unmentionable One are hungry to touch. Thou [pg 301] knowest his power of magic. Therefore are the evil eyes of the multitude but dry leaves in the wind of his breath.”
“Indeed thy words are white, O son of the Lord-of-many-Lands.”
“Depart then that the hunger of His fingers may be appeased.”
“The drums speak not yet of the eating up of Eyes-in-the-hands. Hath not the ear of the spirit of Tarum spoken upon these matters?” inquired Bakahenzie in his favourite dialectical manner.
“The spirit of Tarum hath naught to say to thee,” replied Birnier, “but the fingers of Tarum will to make thee to itch even as his fingers.”
Birnier called to Mungongo who brought and placed at his feet a fairly powerful electric battery. Bakahenzie eyed the box; curiosity was keenly awakened. He stared interestedly when Birnier raised the lid. Taking the handles he said:
“These, O son of Maliko, are the hands of Tarum made manifest. He wishes that thou shouldst feel the itch of his desire!” and with the words he clapped one handle to the belly and the other at the base of the spine of the chief witch-doctor. Bakahenzie convulsed as he was compelled to do. Swiftly Birnier applied the shock to the shoulders, holding the handles there as he remarked to a violently trembling Bakahenzie: “Behold! the itch of the fingers of Tarum!”
But as he lowered his hands towards the spine again, Bakahenzie moved rapidly and with no dignity.
Solemnly Birnier replaced the handles and closed the lid, and said quietly:
“Thou hast felt, O brother magician, that the fingers of Tarum do itch indeed?”
“Truly!” responded Bakahenzie with a celerity as unusual as the quaver in his voice. “Indeed thy words are white, O mightiest of magicians. What are indeed the evil eyes of savages against the power of thy magic, O son of the Lord-of-many-Lands!”
And contrary to all precedent Bakahenzie rose and left. Within a quarter of an hour his voice announced that slaves with the magic “things” were without the palisade, and called upon Mungongo to go to the gate to fetch them as strangers were forbidden even to look upon the King-God. Birnier, by the light of a torch, opened the mail, sent a wad of letters and a sheaf of telegraph slips on to the floor, and snatched a long green envelope scrawled in French characters:
Monsieur le Curateur du Jardin des Plantes.
For a moment he stared at it perplexedly, for there was no stamp or cancellation.
“What in the name——” he muttered as he slit it open.
Entebbe,
Août 13, 19—
Mon petit loup, what have you been doing? Oû est tu? Comment et pourquoi? Oh, I am cross with you, with Monsieur le Professeur! Why do you write me so ridiculous a letter? I laugh, but always [pg 303] I laugh, so what good is that to you? I will not reply to your letter, mon vieux—jamais. But I will tell you so that you may know why I am here. Yes, parmi les animaux!
Birnier winced at the phrase which seemed to come back at him like a boomerang from the lips of zu Pfeiffer.
I am to go for vacation to Wiesbaden with some very terrible peoples. Oh, on me dégoûte! I have an engagement for the winter in Berlin as before. I have engagement for Paris—eh! but—pouf! Figure me on the charming Mauretania and I am sitting on the deck where you once made yourself so ridiculous. Rappelle toi? I am sick—No, mon vieux, pas du mal de mer! I should not be for everybody to look at. Oh, no! I am sick, I tell you. Je rêve de mon petit coco parmi les sales animaux! Je me dis: Zut! il est fou! il est tapé! Mais en moi même je l’adore! Tout de suite I tell a creature who brings me my books, my fan, un espèce de tapette, je m’en vais là, moi! He ask me where? I tell him I go to look for mon amant in Afrique Centrale! Mais oui! He thinks I am mad! I tell him so and I laugh! How I laugh. But he is right, yes, je suis folle—de toi!
Alors I come to Marseilles and I catch a boat to Mombassa. Ouf! Je vais mourir à cause de mon petit loup! La mer rouge! Quel cauchemar! Enfin I still arrive what of Lucille is left and I ask for you, for Monsieur le Professeur Americain, but no one knows you. On the boat I have attached to myself trois mousquetaires Anglais. Tous les trois sont drôles! [pg 304] They bring me on the ever so funny little train to here. Entebbe. Les Anglais sont très polis, tu sais! Monsieur le Gouverneur stop drinking whisky politely to tell me that Monsieur has been and has gone! Quelle horreur! You have gone but three days! Pense tu! I ask myself what have I done that the bon Dieu should be so unkind. Then quel malheur! I remember to myself that I commence to come to you on Friday! You laugh! Yes, I laugh too but—Quien sabe? I commence to come to you on a Friday and you are gone three little days!
Then my good friends, les trois mousquetaires, send for me a what they call a runner—the red peas—C’est drôle! but the little pea black he did not find you. He brings a message that you had gone to some place with a terrible name.
Then come the two most ridiculous letters. I will not reply to any such ridiculous letters—jamais!
Birnier scowled. Two letters? he muttered. What letters?
You must come now. Immediately. I want you. I will wait here for you. You must leave your ridiculous animals as I have left mes affaires for you. Come to me. I wait for you.
Lower down on the same page, but written with a thick pen, the letter continued:
Again I have read your absurd letter. Tu es fou! You make such a noise because this foolish young man is jealous of mon mari and make you to go round the [pg 305] detestable country, which you like so much, instead of straight through to the ridiculous place you say you want to go.
Birnier smiled grimly.
Peuh! [Écoute], mon cher, it is true I have met the young man in Washington. Mon Dieu, are there not plenty of young men in Washington, Paris, Berlin? He fell in love with me. Mon Dieu, they are as thick as the blackberries! Perhaps I tease him pour faire la blague! Pourquoi pas? I give him a photograph and I sign it, just as I sign plenty for amusing friends. But then he become too ridiculous. He has no sense of humour comme tous les Allemands. He wishes to fight all my friends, tes compatriotes si sombres et graves! Figure toi! Then he make a challenge and naturellement it is not the custom in thy country. Mon pauvre petit Dorsay refuse and this person become crazy wild, as you say, and he strike him with his cane in the street. Quelle horreur! Quel scandale! He run away of course. The Embassy help him. Qui sait? That is the last I hear until I receive this ridiculous letter, together with thy ridiculous letter. I send him to you. How drôle that you two should meet all among les animaux. It is so funny that he did not kill you, this monstre allemand! Tu es en cross encore avec moi? Zut! mon vieux it is not my fault that everybody goes mad after me except mon petit mari! Leave the ridiculous garçon where he is. But why do I talk so much about a cochon? Because you are ridiculous! Tant pis pour toi! Now sois gentil and come to me immediately—unless [pg 306] you love your sales animaux plus que moi! If you do not come I will never never, jamais de ma vie, give you one single baiser again! No! Mille baisers! Mais comme je te deteste!
Lucille.