“I do not love him, and will not have him.”
“Is he related to thee?”
“No! by Heaven!”
“Well, then, fear nothing, and I will release thee from him.”
“That is not so easy,” said she; “and yet, by Heaven, I am not a coward, and do not fear the Afrit! It is for thee that I fear, lest he assassinate thee.”
“Be easy on that point,” replied he; “but only show me thy dwelling.”
She did so; and at nightfall the stranger came, and they sat down, and began to talk quietly together, he sitting with his leg over that of the young girl. The Afrit soon came in, and saw them sitting together. The girl wished to move away, but her new lover kept her in her position, and continued the conversation. The Afrit then exclaimed, “Who allowed thee to come here?” but obtained no answer. He spoke twice more, and then, rushing forward, stabbed the stranger through the thigh, until he reached that of the girl. She tried to escape, but could not; and the Afrit, struck dumb by the phlegm of his rival, who still did not move, drew forth his weapon, and wished to escape. But he was now seized and cast to the ground, and humiliated, and compelled to swear that he would never again interfere with the girl, who was soon afterwards united in marriage with her deliverer. Similar adventures are of frequent occurrence in Wadaï.
A singular feature in the character of the Wadaïans is, that they are jealous of a mistress, but take no care to interfere with the conduct of their sisters or daughters. They even often seek to bring admirers to their sisters, by praising their beauty and physical qualities. And if any one is thus incited to come forward as a suitor, the brother pleads for him, and is angry if he be rejected. Sometimes the Wadaïans carry their complaisance so far, that they take friends to their wives, and leave them with them. The women themselves are licentiously inclined, and often have many lovers. In fact, throughout all Soudan, love seems to be the great occupation. It runs fiery through the veins of the blacks, as sap runs through the veins of trees. No one thinks it a duty to conceal the object of passion, except when danger may arise. Otherwise, he goes about publishing the name of her he loves, and shouting it in every ear. But let us now pause, for if we dwell too long upon one subject we shall engender weariness.