A Passion in the Desert | Page 8

night.
The soldier waited with impatience the hour of his flight, and when it
had arrived he walked vigorously in the direction of the Nile; but
hardly had he made a quarter of a league in the sand when he heard the
panther bounding after him, crying with that saw-like cry more dreadful
even than the sound of her leaping.
"Ah!" he said, "then she's taken a fancy to me, she has never met
anyone before, and it is really quite flattering to have her first love."
That instant the man fell into one of those movable quicksands so
terrible to travelers and from which it is impossible to save oneself.

Feeling himself caught, he gave a shriek of alarm; the panther seized
him with her teeth by the collar, and, springing vigorously backwards,
drew him as if by magic out of the whirling sand.
"Ah, Mignonne!" cried the soldier, caressing her enthusiastically;
"we're bound together for life and death but no jokes, mind!" and he
retraced his steps.
From that time the desert seemed inhabited. It contained a being to
whom the man could talk, and whose ferocity was rendered gentle by
him, though he could not explain to himself the reason for their strange
friendship. Great as was the soldier's desire to stay upon guard, he
slept.
On awakening he could not find Mignonne; he mounted the hill, and in
the distance saw her springing toward him after the habit of these
animals, who cannot run on account of the extreme flexibility of the
vertebral column. Mignonne arrived, her jaws covered with blood; she
received the wonted caress of her companion, showing with much
purring how happy it made her. Her eyes, full of languor, turned still
more gently than the day before toward the Provencal, who talked to
her as one would to a tame animal.
"Ah! mademoiselle, you are a nice girl, aren't you? Just look at that! So
we like to be made much of, don't we? Aren't you ashamed of yourself?
So you have been eating some Arab or other, have you? That doesn't
matter. They're animals just the same as you are; but don't you take to
eating Frenchmen, or I shan't like you any longer."
She played like a dog with its master, letting herself be rolled over,
knocked about, and stroked, alternately; sometimes she herself would
provoke the soldier, putting up her paw with a soliciting gesture.
Some days passed in this manner. This companionship permitted the
Provencal to appreciate the sublime beauty of the desert; now that he
had a living thing to think about, alternations of fear and quiet, and
plenty to eat, his mind became filled with contrast and his life began to
be diversified.
Solitude revealed to him all her secrets, and enveloped him in her
delights. He discovered in the rising and setting of the sun sights
unknown to the world. He knew what it was to tremble when he heard
over his head the hiss of a bird's wing, so rarely did they pass, or when
he saw the clouds, changing and many colored travelers, melt one into

another. He studied in the night time the effect of the moon upon the
ocean of sand, where the simoom made waves swift of movement and
rapid in their change. He lived the life of the Eastern day, marveling at
its wonderful pomp; then, after having reveled in the sight of a
hurricane over the plain where the whirling sands made red, dry mists
and death-bearing clouds, he would welcome the night with joy, for
then fell the healthful freshness of the stars, and he listened to
imaginary music in the skies. Then solitude taught him to unroll the
treasures of dreams. He passed whole hours in remembering mere
nothings, and comparing his present life with his past.
At last he grew passionately fond of the panther; for some sort of
affection was a necessity.
Whether it was that his will powerfully projected had modified the
character of his companion, or whether, because she found abundant
food in her predatory excursions in the desert, she respected the man's
life, he began to fear for it no longer, seeing her so well tamed.
He devoted the greater part of his time to sleep, but he was obliged to
watch like a spider in its web that the moment of his deliverance might
not escape him, if anyone should pass the line marked by the horizon.
He had sacrificed his shirt to make a flag with, which he hung at the top
of a palm tree, whose foliage he had torn off. Taught by necessity, he
found the means of keeping it spread out, by fastening it with little
sticks; for the wind might not be blowing at the moment when