Ah! why had he left her for so long! What grief had he not caused her! To what dangers of every kind had he not exposed her! And now she had found him only to lose him very soon, for he could not recover from the wounds inflicted by that woman!
But why had Walinda been so furious against him? Why, instead of hurling herself upon her enemies, had she chosen to attack her prisoner and her guest so unmercifully?
She was there, close to her, only a few yards off, that terrible Queen, that Venus in ebony, as Dr. Delange called her. After having literally torn her away from the body she was holding in so deadly an embrace, Nassar, assisted by some Dinkas, had stripped her of her fatal bracelets and necklets, had bound her legs with cords, tied her arms down to her sides, and thrown her at full length on the ground.
If Walinda was powerless to strike, she took account of everything that was going on around her. Lying on her back, stark naked, but, at the same time, partly hidden by the grass which had opened out to receive her, and now enclosed her, she never took her eyes off the victim rescued from her clutches, the prey snatched from her, and she cast glances of furious hatred on the wounded man and the woman kneeling by his side.
By-and-by, Madame de Guéran crept closer to her husband, and took one of his hands in hers. The Queen's look at once became more ferocious still, her nostrils dilated, her lips half opened, and a shudder went through her body, motionless up to this time. She made frantic efforts to burst her bonds, without success, but by dint of great exertion, she managed to turn over and lie with her face downwards.
Then, by bending her knees, resting first on one shoulder and then on the other, dragging her chest along the grass, and pushing herself by means of the ground, she managed to get close to the spot where M. and Madame de Guéran were. She stopped every time the grass around her rustled, and held her breath lest she should attract the attention of her enemies.
As soon as she was close to them, she shut her hands, of which she had the use, buried her fists in the sand, and, having thus secured a support, she was able to lift her head and chest to the level of the grass. There she remained motionless and silent, brooding, so to speak, over her enemies, with parted lips, ready, like a viper, to spit out her venom.
Madame de Guéran did not see her. Absorbed in her own thoughts, she heard nothing, saw nothing. She was scarcely conscious of what had passed since the moment when her husband had so suddenly appeared before her. He was brandishing an axe, and fighting valiantly when one of those terrible amazons fell upon him, overthrew him, and wounded him mortally. Simultaneously with this, shouts of terror had reached her ears, the camp was invaded—then came a terrific explosion, followed, first of all, by renewed din, and, then, by absolute silence. She did not make any attempt to recall what had happened. What did it matter to her? After so much exertion, she had only found an inanimate being, a dying man. She was overwhelmed by her grief and her reflections, too.
However, as she had no more water wherewith to refresh the wounded man's lips and forehead, she turned round to ask for some. At that moment she perceived in the grass, close to her, the Queen of the Walindis, covered with M. de Guéran's blood.
She did not turn away in disgust; on the contrary, she surprised herself in the act of contemplating this woman, who had for so long a time kept her husband a prisoner.