But now M. Périères, followed by the Monbuttoos armed with revolvers, hurried out of the encampment to the rescue of the wounded King. It was high time; Munza had made such superhuman efforts to defend himself that his wounds had opened, and, weakened by loss of blood, he swooned upon the ground. Some soldiers lifted him up in their arms, whilst M. Périères and his little band kept at bay the maddened and yelling mob.
They succeeded in bearing the King within the enclosure set apart by Madame de Guéran for the sick and wounded. But Delange, after a moment's examination, saw clearly that this time his skill would be of no avail. They had not brought him a wounded man, but an already stiffening corpse, whose large eyes alone were open and rivetted on Madame de Guéran, who had just appeared on the scene.
Munza might, perhaps, have had strength enough left to speak to her and touch her; but he only fixed his eyes upon her and appeared well-content to die near her and for her. He had struggled heroically against his enemies, but he disdained to fight against death. He accepted his fate without a murmur, without reviling. This savage died like a Frenchman.
Madame de Guéran knelt down beside him, and, after having solemnly made the sign of the cross over him, laid her hand on his forehead. He shivered at her touch; his already closing eyes opened wide with a last effort, his face was lighted up with a smile of intense meaning, his lips moved, and in a long, deep sigh his soul fled away.
Laura de Guéran remained on her knees for a long time, praying to the God of the Christians to receive into His keeping the heathen soul which, lifted out of its former abasement, was in a state to expand into something far higher and better. She prayed, too, for ail those friends who were fighting so valiantly in her defence, and for her husband, so near to her and yet so far removed, not by mere distance, but by the terrible obstacles lying between them.
Whilst she thus knelt beside the body of Munza, the Walindis came on again to recover from the Europeans the wounded man snatched from their vengeance. They did not know that he was dead, and they hungered after the pleasure of strangling him with their own hands, carrying off his body, casting it down at the feet of the Queen, and saying to her—"You see that we can fight as valorously as your women; your warriors are in no way inferior to your amazons."
Intoxicated by their first success, and thinking now that victory was within their grasp, they rushed in one huge, compact body against the encampment.
"Fire!" called out de Morin.
A hundred rifles volleyed forth their messengers of death; every bullet told on the mass; a hundred bodies fell, and the remainder, terrified and dismayed, recoiled as one man, and attempted to fly. But that was out of their power; they now found themselves enclosed, cooped up, and penned in, so to speak, between their enemies and their friends.
The army of the amazons had moved down from the neighbouring hills on to the plain to reinforce the battalions already engaged. The latter, on turning to fly, consequently found behind them an impenetrable human wall, five thousand women, who reviled them as cowards, and threatened them with death if they retreated. Put thus to the blush, and in despair at flight being impossible, they attempted a fresh attack. They were received with a second volley, and another hundred of their number bit the dust.