Chapter 31
The reflection of a shaft of moonlight through the half-completed thatch upon zu Pfeiffer’s “magic” mirror, which the natives had not dared to remove, set afire the sapphires upon his bracelet as he sat rigidly in a camp chair in a suit of pyjamas. Upon the bed lay Birnier, nursing his bandaged left arm. Now and again the thrumming, chanting and the shrilling of the saturnalia without rose into discordant yells like a gust of wind whipping tree-tops into fury.
Zu Pfeiffer appeared taciturn and suspicious. Perhaps the slackening of his will, tautened to meet death as his caste demanded that he should, and the confrontation of the object of his violent hate, had completely unnerved him. When Birnier had dragged him within and cut his bonds, he had grunted curt, official thanks for the rescue. As sullenly he had hesitated at the offer of the pyjamas, but as if deciding that he could not retain any dignity in his own bloodied skin, had accepted them, as well as a sorely needed drink of water.
The reaction after the crisis, and possibly the influence of the general hysteria in the air, had distorted Birnier’s vision of things. He was very conscious of a neurotic desire to laugh unrestrainedly. Thus it was that for nearly half an hour the two men remained in the gloom in silence. Birnier had a psychological comprehension of the highly nervous tension of his guest. For he [pg 313] had long ago realized that the only solution of zu Pfeiffer’s crazy statement that he was engaged to the wife of a man to whom he was speaking, indicated a form of insanity.
A psychological law is that natural emotions must have an outlet; if they are repressed they are apt to cause a state of mental disease which in an aggravated form may lead the patient to the asylum, but in the incipient stage are as common as jackals in Africa. Zu Pfeiffer was suffering from such a case of mild psychosis. Brought up under an iron code which did not permit his instincts to react, the repressed emotions bubbled out in the form of a deification of his Kaiser and the adoration of Lucille, both states being absolutely apart from all reason, indeed approached to a state of dissociation of consciousness. The desired unattainable is projected into the dream plane, the realm of myth. Such a case is the historical one of the man who, keenly intelligent upon every subject mentioned, startles the visitor by the demand for a piece of toast, gravely explaining that he is a poached egg and that he wishes to sit down; or as Pascal, who ever had beside him the great black dog. To attempt to rationalise with such an one was merely to excite the insane part of him. So it was that Birnier determined to ignore the subject entirely, perfectly aware that the sullenness of the man sitting in the camp chair opposite to him was caused by an exaggerated terror that he would insist upon speaking of the one subject which should be tabu.
The associative suggestion of Lucille diverted his mind until he became immersed in thoughts of her. A queer vision of a well-fed tiger playing with a kid [pg 314] entered his mind. More conscious than ever of her attraction by reason of the intensified sense of her wrought by her letter, he glanced surreptitiously at the rigid form in the chair and a wave of pity mixed with a half conscious pride that she belonged to him, rose within him. Then Birnier started as he was brought back to a realization of the passing of time by a harsh voice that told of creaking nerves:
“Herr Professor, what is your pleasure to do with me, if you please?”
“I beg your pardon!” Birnier sat up. “Er—naturally I shall endeavour to get you away as early as possible. It would be as well if you took advantage of the present—er—saturnalia to escape. I cannot do much. I can provide you with a gun and food. As you are not injured you should be able to get a reasonable distance from here by morning; for the rest I am afraid you must fend for yourself. I wish that I could do more, but I’m afraid that my power is not yet sufficient to ensure any help from the natives.”
An inarticulate sound emerged from zu Pfeiffer’s mouth. Birnier’s eyes caught the sheen of the photograph upon the wall. Escape! Lucille! Almost involuntarily he stretched out a hand and took Lucille’s letter from the table. Again came zu Pfeiffer’s voice: