A Passion in the Desert | Page 7

by the
tranquility of her attitude. It suddenly occurred to the soldier that to kill
this savage princess with one blow he must poniard her in the throat.
He raised the blade, when the panther, satisfied no doubt, laid herself

gracefully at his feet, and cast up at him glances in which, in spite of
their natural fierceness, was mingled confusedly a kind of good will.
The poor Provencal ate his dates, leaning against one of the palm trees,
and casting his eyes alternately on the desert in quest of some liberator
and on his terrible companion to watch her uncertain clemency.
The panther looked at the place where the date stones fell, and every
time that he threw one down her eyes expressed an incredible mistrust.
She examined the man with an almost commercial prudence. However,
this examination was favorable to him, for when he had finished his
meager meal she licked his boots with her powerful rough tongue,
brushing off with marvelous skill the dust gathered in the creases.
"Ah, but when she's really hungry!" thought the Frenchman. In spite of
the shudder this thought caused him, the soldier began to measure
curiously the proportions of the panther, certainly one of the most
splendid specimens of its race. She was three feet high and four feet
long without counting her tail; this powerful weapon, rounded like a
cudgel, was nearly three feet long. The head, large as that of a lioness,
was distinguished by a rare expression of refinement. The cold cruelty
of a tiger was dominant, it was true, but there was also a vague
resemblance to the face of a sensual woman. Indeed, the face of this
solitary queen had something of the gaiety of a drunken Nero: she had
satiated herself with blood, and she wanted to play.
The soldier tried if he might walk up and down, and the panther left
him free, contenting herself with following him with her eyes, less like
a faithful dog than a big Angora cat, observing everything and every
movement of her master.
When he looked around, he saw, by the spring, the remains of his horse;
the panther had dragged the carcass all that way; about two thirds of it
had been devoured already. The sight reassured him.
It was easy to explain the panther's absence, and the respect she had
had for him while he slept. The first piece of good luck emboldened
him to tempt the future, and he conceived the wild hope of continuing
on good terms with the panther during the entire day, neglecting no
means of taming her, and remaining in her good graces.
He returned to her, and had the unspeakable joy of seeing her wag her
tail with an almost imperceptible movement at his approach. He sat
down then, without fear, by her side, and they began to play together;

he took her paws and muzzle, pulled her ears, rolled her over on her
back, stroked her warm, delicate flanks. She let him do what ever he
liked, and when he began to stroke the hair on her feet she drew her
claws in carefully.
The man, keeping the dagger in one hand, thought to plunge it into the
belly of the too confiding panther, but he was afraid that he would be
immediately strangled in her last convulsive struggle; besides, he felt in
his heart a sort of remorse which bid him respect a creature that had
done him no harm. He seemed to have found a friend, in a boundless
desert; half unconsciously he thought of his first sweetheart, whom he
had nicknamed "Mignonne" by way of contrast, because she was so
atrociously jealous that all the time of their love he was in fear of the
knife with which she had always threatened him.
This memory of his early days suggested to him the idea of making the
young panther answer to this name, now that he began to admire with
less terror her swiftness, suppleness, and softness. Toward the end of
the day he had familiarized himself with his perilous position; he now
almost liked the painfulness of it. At last his companion had got into
the habit of looking up at him whenever he cried in a falsetto voice,
"Mignonne."
At the setting of the sun Mignonne gave, several times running, a
profound melancholy cry. "She's been well brought up," said the
lighthearted soldier; "she says her prayers." But this mental joke only
occurred to him when he noticed what a pacific attitude his companion
remained in. "Come, ma petite blonde, I'll let you go to bed first," he
said to her, counting on the activity of his own legs to run away as
quickly as possible, directly she was asleep, and seek another shelter
for the