"I remember the name," replied, de Morin, "but I cannot recall any circumstances in connection with him."
"He was a Hungarian explorer," I replied, "employed in a house of business in Benguela, a country of western Africa. His business obliged him, in 1849, to take a trip into the interior, where he had the misfortune to take the fancy of Ozoro, the lovely daughter of the king of Bihé, who compelled him to marry her. As Ladislas Magyar was never seen again, it was supposed that the jealousy of his wife, and the surveillance put in force by her over him, kept him away from his family and his country."
"By quoting this historical and geographical incident," said de Morin to me, "do you wish to advance the opinion that M. de Guéran is the happy lover of Venus in ebony? When I suggested that a moment ago, you scouted the idea."
"Not at all, my dear fellow, you quite misunderstood me. On the contrary, I agreed with you; I merely maintained that the charms of Walinda would not be powerful enough to induce a Parisian to settle down and naturalize himself in Africa. M. de Guéran's letter strengthens me in that conviction. After all, the Baron is flesh and blood like ourselves, capable of becoming, either by force or fancy, the lover of the Queen. But this weakness would not prevent his hankering after freedom. He is perfectly sincere, rely upon it, when he speaks of the work of regeneration which he has in hand. M. de Guéran, the protégé, the godson, I believe, of Livingstone, has in his veins some drops of that African missionary's blood. A feverish longing for discovery was not the only motive which induced him to leave his country and his beloved wife; he has also, and above all, the fervour of an apostle, or perhaps, a martyr. Do not destroy my illusion; I experience a certain pleasure in forming this high opinion of the husband of Madame de Guéran. I absolutely refuse to believe that such a right-minded, clear-headed woman would have, of her own free will, chosen a mere seeker after adventures."
"So far from trying to do away with your illusion, as you call it, I share it. I look upon M. de Guéran, the husband, as my personal enemy, and I always place my enemies on a pedestal so that I may gain all the more credit for upsetting them when I get the chance. Besides, it is not the first time that my thoughts have turned upon M. de Guéran. I often heard him spoken of in France, and I formed a high opinion of him. I respect his memory, and should like to admire his conduct. He is a missionary, an apostle, a martyr, I admit, but he is also a rather queer specimen of humanity, blasé with Parisian life and European customs. He knows all the secrets of our countries, and he must needs dive into the mysteries of another continent. He is quite comfortable, believe me, in the midst of this menagerie of wild beasts called amazons, and by the side of this splendid, ferociously amorous queen, whose lord and slave he is at one and the same time."
"Our opinions," I replied, "are not so far apart after all. M. de Guéran is a working missionary, but a layman, if I may so express myself, without any religious 'call;' he does good, civilizes savages, and preaches Christian morality. But he knows also how to mingle the profane with the sacred, and he manages to pass the period of his apostolate as pleasantly as possible. So far we agree. When, however, he speaks of the dangers which lie before us amongst the Walindis, and the utter impossibility of rescuing him, do you believe that he is sincere?"
"I do. His information is strictly correct. He is convinced that we shall be crushed, smashed to pieces, or cut up into little bits, if we try to save him; but he is mistaken. In his idea, our expedition differs in no way from any other; we are depending on ourselves alone, as indeed we had to do for a long time, and our caravan consists of a hundred bearers and a weak escort—that is his idea. He could not know by intuition that we have at our disposal a hundred and fifty soldiers, armed with European rifles, and more than five thousand men disciplined by us, and roused to fanaticism by their King."
"Then, according to you, under these circumstances we should pay no attention to his warnings and his prayers?"
"Certainly not. Moreover, allow me to observe that if it suits M. de Guéran to plant himself in Africa, to establish there his electoral freehold, and to die there, we are not bound in the same way. We want to get back again to our own country; one route only is open to us— that towards the south, and we are going that way. If we come across the Baron in Ulindi, so much the better, or so much the worse for him, but go that way we must and will. Do you follow me?"
"I entirely agree with you. M. de Guéran is a mere accessory. In saving ourselves we may possibly save him."