“And how do you know that she is not?” I demanded hotly.
“How do you know that she is?” he retorted. “You have only her word for it; she has not furnished you with a shadow of proof. It is easy for a woman—or a man—to express exalted sentiments and lofty aspirations, even though she—or he—may not feel them. As a matter of fact, I entertain the precise sentiments and have the same aspirations with which you credit Bimbane; but I suppose you will require something more than my bare assertion before you will believe me. Yet why should you doubt me, and believe her? I will tell you. It is because she has thrown the spell of her magic over you! You tell me that yesterday she cast you into a trance wherein you saw the way which you must follow in order to find the captive child of your friend. By allowing her to do that, you afforded her an opportunity to get you under her influence and into her power; and to-day, when you fell asleep while she was conversing with you, she was simply testing and strengthening her power over you. You believed that your sleep lasted but a second or two; I believe that it may have lasted half an hour or longer, during which she was getting more complete control over you: and when at length she aroused you from your trance she simply resumed her conversation at the point where it had broken off at the moment when you lost consciousness; hence you imagined—as she intended you should—that you had been asleep but for a moment.”
“I will not believe it,” I exclaimed hotly. “Nothing shall convince me that any woman could be so base as to take such dastardly advantage of a man as you suggest.”
“Has the mischief indeed gone so far as that?” demanded Anuti, soberly enough now. “Then I am very sorry for you, Chia’gnosi; very sorry for us all. For in that case you will never be permitted to leave Bandokolo, never have the opportunity to rescue the captive daughter of your friend; while as for the rest of us, we shall inevitably be plunged into a disastrous civil war, in which many of Bandokolo’s highest and best will be slain. Probably Bimbane, aided by you, will triumph; but, believe me, when it is too late and the evil has been wrought, you will discover that you have made a disastrous mistake—or, rather, have been hideously deceived. Ah, do not shake your head in unbelief, my friend, for remember that I am speaking from experience. I know that what I say is true, because it was through the influence which Bimbane gained over me that she constrained me to become her spouse, although I loved Siluce. You look incredulous; you doubtless think that I might have resisted, had I chosen: but I swear to you that so complete was her power over me that I was absolutely helpless, and although I fully understood the enormity of the crime which she was committing, and which she was compelling me to commit, I was powerless to resist, because I could not escape from her. But afterward, when the foul wrong was done, when I was irrevocably bound to her, and my poor Siluce had been driven forth to perish miserably, Bimbane foolishly relaxed her hold upon me, thinking, I suppose, that, the knot being tied, I should not attempt to escape, but should accept the ignoble fate which she had designed for me. Also I think she was indifferent, because the event proved that I was not the man through whom she believes she is to recover her long-lost youth and beauty. And I took advantage of this relaxation of vigilance on her part to escape from the palace and from her influence, and, despite her entreaties and commands, have steadfastly refused to return: hence I have been able gradually to shake off her influence until now I am quite free from it; and I tell you that never again shall she have an opportunity to recover her power over me, if I can help it. Now, if you are not so completely bewitched as to be incapable of distinguishing between truth and falsehood, come with me, for I am prepared to submit to you ample and convincing proof of the truth of all my charges against Bimbane.”
“Very well,” said I, “I will go with you, for although the matter is really no concern of mine I am anxious to get at the truth, if only in order that I may be of some assistance in adjusting this most unhappy misunderstanding between the queen and the nobles. For I am convinced that it is nothing more serious than a misunderstanding, and that a little explanation on either side will suffice to clear it up completely. But I warn you, Anuti, not to indulge in any false hopes of your ability to persuade me of the queen’s guilt, for I shall need something far more convincing than unsupported assertions to satisfy me.”
“Yet Bimbane’s unsupported assertions have thus far completely satisfied you; do not forget that, Chia’gnosi,” retorted Anuti. “However,” he continued, “if you can persuade yourself to regard the question of the queen’s guilt or innocence as an open one for a little while, I have no doubt of my ability to make you recognise the truth.”
Much more was said by Anuti to the same effect, but as it was in the main but a reiteration and amplification of his previous statements, it need not be repeated here; suffice it to say that by the time we reached his house he had brought me to a state of mind which enabled me to recognise that, after all, it was just possible that I might be mistaken, that Bimbane might not be the sort of person I had allowed her to persuade me she was, and that Anuti and his friends were at least entitled to a dispassionate hearing.
And then, when at length we reached Anuti’s dwelling, that individual introduced me to some thirty of the most important and influential nobles and chiefs of Bandokolo, among whom was Mindula, the father of the unhappy Siluce; and, one after the other, these men arose and related the wrongs, the cruelties, and the injustices which they and theirs had suffered at the hands of Bimbane, accompanying their statements with proofs of so convincing a character that I no longer found it possible to disbelieve. And when at length the session was over I arose, stunned, astounded, horrified, and furious at the thought of the danger which I had so narrowly escaped, of falling into the hands of a vile, unscrupulous woman, and becoming her willing, deluded tool.
“And now,” I demanded, as the nobles rose to depart, “what am I to do? It is impossible that I can continue to reside in the palace and remain the guest of the queen; yet, having come so far, I do not like the idea of quitting the country without at least enough of the gold and shining stones to repay me for the toil and peril of my adventure. And I suppose that when I announce my intention of quitting the palace the queen will at once conjecture that I have been in communication with you, and have learned the truth concerning her. Will she attempt to detain me by force, think you?”
“It is impossible to surmise what she may do,” answered Anuti. “It is, however, not force so much as persuasion that you have to fear, for I do not believe that there is a man in Bandokolo who would be willing to face your fire weapons, even at Bimbane’s command: but if you venture to return to the palace and see her again, rest assured that she will bring the whole power of her influence to bear upon you in the effort to persuade you that we have deceived you, and that your original opinion of her was the correct one. And you best know whether you have now the strength of will to resist her beguilements. It would be safer, perhaps, not to risk it, but to take up your abode here with me. I will send a messenger to your servant, if you like, telling him—”