Chapter XXIII: A Terrible Bargain

She had fled into her room. Flung upon her sleeping-bench she was thinking rapidly. Her tears flowed no longer. With her will concentrated to a point, she forced herself to subdue the tumult of her thoughts and to bring order out of the chaos of ideas and emotions which surged up in her.

The night had flowed into and drowned her cell,--this night which was to be the last one for Pierre and Father Ravennes. Tomorrow, at dawn, their torture would begin,--this fearful torture, the Slow Death, which Jieng one evening had complaisantly described to her: the flesh torn off bit by bit, the bones broken one by one, the entrails.... With a bound of horror the young woman flung herself from the couch and stood upright in the middle of the room. The darkness became unbearable to her. She lighted the torch fixed in the wall above the window. But the vision which she had thought to banish in driving away the dark, came back to her, haunted her.... Pierre cut to pieces, dismembered, a mere bleeding stump!... Pierre! and all this through her own fault... Yes, ... through her fault alone....

The details of her last visit to the sorceress flashed through her mind, and among them the strange look of Jieng when she had given permission for Lursac and Ravennes to be notified. A bait! That was it.... She had been a bait used to entice the two men, to bring them into the trap, to call them to it certainly and irresistibly.

And now, now.... Gripping her arms in her hands she twisted them in agony; all her love, all her suffering, broke from her in a strangled sob.... Ah! if it were possible to save them!... To snatch Pierre from this nameless and horrible death.... To save him.... She thought of the last words of the young man: "Perhaps we can manage...." She shook her head wildly: No. Nothing! He could do nothing!... For she knew, she had seen the warriors and the sorceresses. There were too many of them! What then? What then? She thought in a flash: "If I went there, I ... if instead of them Jieng would...." But she stood frozen into immobility at the thought that it was not she whom they wanted to get rid of, but they, the men who knew too much, who had discovered too many secrets,--they who represented the conquerors, the witnesses,--as they had already got rid of Dorcel, Longères, Redeski.... No, it must be something else ... she must find some other way.... But what?... The question obsessed her and would not let her go, beating round and round the walls of her brain.... What? She could not think of anything ... and the horrible scene which she visioned in advance dwelt obstinately before her eyes: the scene of the torture, tomorrow, in a few hours....

Once more, seized by despair, she flung herself across the foot of the sleeping-bench and with her head buried in her arms she sobbed convulsively. Suddenly she heard a call, that hoarse, lingering, drawn-out cry which she had so often heard and knew so well. She turned her head towards the window and saw the Man. With his face pressed against the little columns, he was watching her. She remained motionless: what did he matter? She was now in the grip of a different fear, a more terrible one, which made her forget the one which had so long pursued her.

They looked at each other, face to face: he with his eyes shining with the fever of passion; she with a mechanical stare which hardly saw him. He drew himself still closer to the window and called once again:

"_O ... ô ... iê ... êp._..."

But his voice now had in it something timid and imploring which made the girl tremble. His eyelids flickered. She got up and stood facing him. Leaning against the wall she considered the face of the savage. It seemed to her now that she saw him for the first time. A line of shade from one of the columns hid his right ear, a part of his neck and the middle of his chest; but his heavy square forehead, high, and rising from bushy eyebrows; his deep-sunk eye-sockets, in the depths of which under quick flickering eyelids shone the thin, sharp, clinging look of a bird of prey; his strong red mouth and his hard, prominent chin; the entire face copper-colored, and softly touched into uncertain, purplish lights and shadows by the flame of the torch. And this face now appeared to Wanda strangely beautiful and savage at the same time.

The Man, with a slow, gentle movement, as though afraid of frightening her, held up an enormous branch, covered with fruit, which he laid on the sill of the window, and on his face spread a shy boyish smile.

Panting, Wanda suddenly made a couple of steps toward him. She staggered. With a violent effort which contorted her features, she conquered her weakness and let her look rest on the Man. A swift flame flashed in her eyes giving them a desperate expression. Then, dropping her glance, she stretched her hand and pointed to her door.

When she looked again the window was empty. She trembled with dread lest he had not seen her sign and had gone away, not to return until the hour of dawn, according to his usual custom--At dawn, that is to say, too late! But she suddenly heard his step behind the heavy door which she had pointed out to him, and this time she was again shaken by a terrible shudder because he had understood....

Instinctively she recoiled; but again the vision of Pierre being tortured appeared to her and she groaned. She walked stiffly to the door, while upon her lips, which she bit in order not to cry out, little drops of blood sprang out. She stretched out her hand and began to loosen the enormous wooden bar and let it fall on the ground. Then she drew back.

The door, pushed violently open, slammed against the wall, and the Man appeared framed in the doorway of the cell.

He was a magnificent figure. His fur garment girded about his waist left part of the chest bare and fell to his knees. The free shoulder was big and rounded, it had the metallic gleam of virgin copper. Along his bare arms the muscles stood out. From his whole body, at once massive and beautifully proportioned, radiated a singular sense of power. As he slowly twisted the upper part of his body, his whole figure turned with a supple flexion, and the fur which clothed him moulded still more clearly his athletic torso, showing the rounded flanks and bringing out the curve of his haunches.

Wanda remained as though petrified in the middle of the room, unable to turn her eyes from the giant form. With a leap and a growl he was close to her, so near that she felt on her face the warmth of his breath. For a second he remained motionless, and then his neck, corded with muscles and veins, swelled as he stretched his hands to her.

The danger awoke the young woman from the paralysis which held her. With a sudden movement she flung herself against the wall by the window under the torch. The Man looked astonished. He hesitated, his eyes looked suspiciously round the room and came back to the young woman. Shaking his rough, tawny mane of hair he came towards her. This time she did not stir: she felt instinctively that the time had come to face him--to face him and conquer him. This love which he had for her and which she was going to use must be set free and tamed at the same time,--and for that it was necessary that he should not suspect the blind terror which possessed her.

When once again he was close in front of her, he spread wide his arms and opened his hands. She saw the grip ready to fall on her and seize her. The face of the Man and his warm breath came close, bending towards her golden hair which drew him like a charm. And as she felt on her shoulders the touch of his fingers, at once hard and light, she flung forward her little white and trembling fist and struck him full in the face with all her force. The Man, with a deep growl, manifested his astonishment, but he still held her. With a violent shake she got free but stood her ground. For a second they looked each other in the eyes. She saw clearly his fawn-colored pupils in which the reflections of the torch made red dancing spots; and there she saw suddenly come to a head all the instincts of violence and all the brutality of his primitive soul.

She forced herself to stare at him, unwinking, and she spoke in a low, rather hoarse voice:

"You have come every morning and every night.... You have brought me offerings. I know.... I have seen you.... I have heard you.... And tonight, I ... I ... have opened my door...."

She spoke in Banhar, slowly picking her words. She did not consider what she was saying; the main point was that he should hear the sound of her voice and listen to it. It was essential that this light in the depths of his eyes should disappear.

He, for his part, seemed entirely taken up with the contemplation of her hair, the inexplicable golden-ness of which obsessed him like a marvellous and unexpected vision.

She went on speaking to him, but louder:

"I have opened my door to you ... because I want to ask something of you ... something...."

Suddenly he seemed to awake from his daydream: his eyelids beat rapidly: his lips, half-opened, showed the ivory sparkle of his teeth, and he savagely brought down his hands and clutched her arms. His features tightened with a terrific expression of cruelty, and all that had been awakened in him of softness and hesitation was crowded out and carried away by the sudden outbreak of primitive instinct: he was no longer anything but a male facing his desired love-prey. She knew this, she read it on his contorted face, and her fear sweeping back upon her she cried out. He lifted her up and sought to carry her off. She struggled and fought desperately with her nails, her feet, and her knees. The sleeve of her tunic which he had caught in his grip gave way: she managed to wriggle out of his grasp, leaving the strip of black silk between his fingers. Freed, she stumbled, fell against the columns of the window and remained clinging to them, trembling with fear and shame.

Recoiling for an instant the Man watched her, while mechanically he wiped away with the back of his hand the blood from his neck covered with Wanda's scratches. She raised her arms above her head without letting her eyes wander from his. With her finger-tips she explored the wall above her until she felt the handle of the torch. At the same moment, a hoarse growl coming from the depths of his throat and his hands stretched out like claws, he flung himself at her. Seizing the torch she thrust it at him suddenly. The flame twisted in front of his eyes and a drop of burning resin fell upon his hand. Checked in his attack he jumped backward several steps. At that she followed him up, continuing to threaten him with the firebrand. Before the fire, this mysterious and living thing, this strange red flower, at the same time kindly and cruel, he slowly broke away. Perhaps there lingered in his brain the remembrance of another similar scene, of another evening when she had in the same way obliged him to leave her window and to give way before her. Or perhaps it was her face and her tragic beauty which impressed him.

All his violence fell away from him. He still growled low in his throat but it was no longer savage or cruel: rather, on the contrary, complaining and imploring.

When she had driven him close to the door by which he had entered, Wanda stood still and looked him in the eyes. Standing before her, with his head hanging, he turned away his face. She knew that she had conquered him, that he had submitted. Then, without taking any notice of him, she went and replaced the torch in its bracket above the window. Turning round she saw him standing in the same place, his eyes moving alternately from her to the door and back. She knew at once that he was hesitating whether to flee or not; and an agony of suspense came upon her lest he should disappear. Thinking of Pierre, whose image had remained with her throughout, she murmured:

"I will save him, ... I will save him at any price!"

Resolutely she went close to the Man. Without making any movement he watched her approach him; and when she laid her finger on his wrist a shiver went through him, but he still stood motionless. Again she spoke to him:

"I said to you that I had something to ask you. You must listen to me, for then, if you do this thing, then...."

He raised his head and looked at her attentively. She saw him watching anxiously, trying to understand her; and his desire to comprehend her words was so acute as to bring a deep wrinkle between his eyebrows. Then a wave of red flowed into the pallid cheeks of Wanda, and she finished her sentence:

"Then," she said, "I will go with you--I will go with you always ... everywhere...."

He breathed deeply and repeated:

"Always ... everywhere, with me...."

She acquiesced with a simple nod and closed her eyes.

While speaking she had made a step in his direction. Now she felt his arms carefully take hold of her round the back and draw her to him. He pressed her against him for a second without her attempting to free herself; then she pushed him gently away and he let go of her.

"Yes," she said, "I will do it if you free my brothers...."

Her voice trembled. She did not even dare to to look at him, but stood waiting.

"Your brothers?" said he, in his turn.

"Two men of my race, of my blood," she explained. "The servants of the temple captured them yesterday; they have taken them into the great hall before the red figure of the god, and they are going to kill them when day comes, and that--" she almost screamed--"that I will not have...."

The Man did not answer. In his thick skull obscure thoughts were beginning to stir. Again she stood in front of him.

"With your companions you could rescue them, carry them away from here into the forest," said she. "They will go away, and I ... I will stay, down there...."

And she pointed with her hand in the direction of the ravine.

He trembled and put his arm round the waist of the young woman.

"Good!" said he, "tomorrow, before the rising of the god who lights the world they shall be free...."

She gave a long, deep sigh.

"But are there enough of you, and will the others consent?"

He drew himself up and threw out his chest, he clenched his fists roughly.

"There are forty of them," he said with fierce pride, "forty, and for four seasons the clan has marched behind Maa-Wang.... Where I go the others will go, for I am Maa-Wang, the Man-who-goes-in-Front, He-who-carries-the-Club, he whom they follow...."

He stopped and his rough voice softened.

"Your brothers shall be free ... but then it is you whom the servants of the temple come to look for and will put to death...."

"What does that matter?" said Wanda carelessly.

He gave no heed to her. Like her, some moments earlier, he cried out:

"I will not have that: Follow me!"

And as she instinctively moved back from him, he said more softly:

"You shall wait for Maa-Wang; and when those of your blood are free in the forest, then only will I come to fetch you."

He had taken her arm as he spoke and drawn her out of the room. On the threshold she felt herself giving way. All her courage, all her exaltation vanished. She saw no longer anything but the horror of this sacrifice of herself: she was on the point of calling to him....

But the savage, seeing her totter, had picked her up. He held her carefully against his great chest and advanced to the edge of the outside balcony. She could feel his heart beating in heavy, rhythmic throbs.

She resigned herself to the sacrifice.

Now the Man was carrying her in one arm. He descended the furthest wall and when he had reached the granite base on which the building was planted he stopped a moment searching the shadows. The night was light and filled with milky mist: above their heads the lighted window cut a luminous rectangle in the sombre façade of the temple, while the columns in front of the window flung across the narrow gallery in front of it alternate bars of shadows and bands of light.

Once more Maa-Wang set forward. He slowly and carefully picked his way down the massed heap of rocky blocks, trying the ground before him at every step, and finally came to a sort of deep grotto hollowed between two enormous stones leaning one against the other. The opening was low and he had to bend himself to enter. He put the young woman on the ground: darkness wrapped them in its impenetrable mantle.

"Here," said he, "no one will be able to find you except me."

He was silent. Wanda understood that he was awaiting her reply. She gathered up all her remaining energy and was finally able to stammer:

"I will wait for you."

She could no longer see him, but she heard the noise of his breathing which receded and grew fainter, and she knew that he was going. She then saw his bent silhouette as he glided out of the cavern. Finally she saw him roll a mass of rock in front of the opening. Then a second one, and, after it, others, which he heaped on each other. The fragment of pale night which she could see through the cavern-mouth got narrower with each stone and finally disappeared altogether. The cave was filled with black shadows....

The young woman then heard the footsteps of the savage become fainter and vanish into silence.

Suddenly the veil of unconsciousness fell upon her.