[CHAPTER XIX]
THE HERMIT
The night had fallen rapidly; it was very dark under the thick branches of the trees, which even at midday cast a dense shadow.
What was to be done? How was I to obtain succour for the Princess, whom I could now barely see, as she lay motionless on the ground?
I raised the upper part of her body very gently with my trunk, and swayed her softly back and forth, and fanned her with my ears—but she did not stir. The thought that she might be dead so horrified me that, without waiting to take breath, I poured forth groans and screams so piercing that they were mistaken for those of a human being—and it was this that finally extricated us from our misfortunes.
All at once I saw, far off under the leaves, a little red light that seemed to be advancing. It surely was a lantern, and that meant that here, in the wilderness, there was a human being. I redoubled my cries of distress, and the light approached more rapidly. It was turned in our direction, and I could not see the person who was carrying it.
At some distance it stopped, and a feeble, and somewhat tremulous voice called:
"Who is it that is moaning? Who is it that disturbs the quiet of the forest by these cries? Can it be this elephant? How happens it that his cries are like those of a man?"
I lifted the Princess on my tusks and laid her in the rays of the lantern.