She stopped. We divined her unspoken thought.
"You had better let us question this man," said de Morin. "We will repeat to you every word he says, but if there should be bad news, we might break it to you less brusquely, less unfeelingly—"
"Be it so! Go, and I will wait for you here."
We found Nassar keeping watch and ward over our personal prisoners, protegés would be the better word, and he brought us to the man who interested us so deeply. The poor wretch was awake, his fears preventing him from sleeping; it appeared to him impossible that he should have been rescued from the flames and made a prisoner without being destined to be eaten. The Monbuttoos enjoyed an unenviable reputation, and he tarred us with the same brush.
Nassar succeeded in explaining to him that, so far from wishing to do him harm, we were bent upon doing everything we could for him, and as soon as he had reassured him on this point, he questioned him about the white man, his guest for so long a time.
"What has become of him?" asked our interpreter. "Has he reached the frontier of the Maleggas?"
The negro considered for some time; the terrible fright he had just undergone had almost deprived him of the little memory he possessed. At length he gave us to understand that the white man had never reappeared.
"But," persisted the interpreter, "did he die before reaching the neighbouring tribe?"
"No," replied the sick man, "he arrived there, and, some time afterwards, sent me, as a present, an ox given to him by the King of that tribe."
We had this answer repeated and translated twice, as it appeared to us to be of the utmost importance. It, indeed, established the fact that not only had M. de Guéran been able to escape from his enemies and continue his journey, but that he had been received kindly by the Maleggas.