As the caravan had not yet surmounted all the hills which form a barrier, natural but very little respected, between the territory of the Bongos and that of the Niam-Niam, the camp had been pitched on the final declivity of the mountain, on the edge of a large plain, whence we obtained a magnificent view. Everybody retired early, and the bearers and soldiers, tired out with a long march up the steep side of the mountain, succumbed to the influence of the drowsy god sooner than usual.
Before the final descent into the country of the Niam-Niam was made, M. Périères put together the notes jotted down with reference to the Bongos, and made up the register of the expedition. M. de Morin, meanwhile, spread a bullock hide on the grass, close to his tent, and, lying flat on his back, with a cigarette in his mouth, gave himself up to a lazy contemplation of the star-lit sky. Miss Poles, with folded arms and head in the air, paced to and fro with lengthy strides, from the camp to the nearest trees and back again. The movement of her lips showed that she was talking to herself, and she was, no doubt, debating the question whether Dr. Delange was really worthy of her, or whether she would not do better to transfer her affections to M. de Morin or M. Périères.
Madame de Guéran, in whom the loveliness of the night possibly caused a longing for solitude, was seated in front of her tent, but she, nevertheless, appeared insensible to the surrounding splendour, and looked straight before her: Were her thoughts flying backwards, over the vast expanse of memory? or were they, perchance, leading her on in an attempt to fathom the future?
Dr. Delange walked up and down in front of her for a few moments, without her seeing him. He seemed anxious to accost her, but yet unwilling to break in upon her reverie. At last he summoned up courage and joined her. Seeing him, she raised her head impatiently, as if to drive away the thoughts that had been oppressing her, and said, in her sweet voice—
"You have something to say to me, I suppose, my dear Doctor? Pray say on."
"Yes," he replied. "For some days past I have been anxious for a little conversation with you, but I could never find you alone. To-night, on the contrary, everybody appears inspired with a desire to respect your solitude, and I venture to disturb it."
"And you have done well. But why choose this late hour, and so isolated a position? Have you a secret to confide to me?"
"No," replied M. Delange, quietly, "but you have one, and I am come to ask you to confide in me. Do not be indignant with me," he continued, seeing that Madame de Guéran looked surprised. "Do not tell me that our friendship is of too recent a date to warrant me in any attempt to discover your secrets or seek your confidence. In so saying you would be guilty of an injustice, and would, moreover, cause me an amount of pain which I have not deserved. Our mode of life during the last six months has brought us into closer connection than many years of ordinary society would have done, and I know that you are good enough to give me a place in your friendship and esteem already. For you, Madame de Guéran, I have a sincere respect, I may say, a sacred regard. The term is not at all high-flown, for you recall to me, both in feature and disposition, a fondly-loved relative, whom I had the misfortune to lose two years ago. It was, I think, her death which caused my going astray to a certain extent, and led me to adopt a club life, up to that time a sealed book to me. There is no reason, therefore, why you should not honour me with your confidence, and I think you will not accuse me of being over-bold in asking you for it."
"That is true," she replied, holding out her hand. "But what have I to tell you? What do you want to know?"
"Many things; and if you still hesitate to throw off your reserve towards the friend, look upon me merely as your doctor. We medical men are, as you know, confessors, to whom everything may be revealed, but by whom nothing is repeated."