Impressions of Africa (French Literature Series)

by Roussel, Raymond

  10. The inventor Bedu, bringing to America a perfected loom that, placed over the currents of a river, could weave the richest fabrics automatically, thanks to a curious system of paddles. By installing the device built from his blueprints on the Rio de la Plata, the inventor expected to receive lucrative orders for similar looms from manufacturers throughout the country. Bedu personally drew and colored the various models of silkwear, damask, or Persian that he wished to obtain; once the movement of the countless paddles had been regulated to follow a master pattern, the machine could reproduce the same design indefinitely, without aid or supervision.

  11. The sculptor Fuxier, who with great subtlety modeled numerous seductive images, which he placed in embryo in certain red lozenges of his own creation, so that they might blossom into smoke on contact with an open flame. Other lozenges, of a uniform bright blue, instantly dissolved in water to produce veritable bas-reliefs on the surface, resulting from the same interior preparation. Hoping to distribute his invention, Fuxier was bringing to Buenos Aires an ample provision of the two substances he’d concocted, so as to produce, on site and upon request, an evanescent tableau encased in a red lozenge, or else a liquid bas-relief contained in a blue lozenge. In a third variation, he used his process of instantaneously blooming sculptures to create delicate subjects inside grapes that could ripen in just minutes. For his experiments, Fuxier had taken along several vine-stocks in voluminous earthenware pots, scrupulously overseeing their watering and ventilation.

  12. The associated bankers Hounsfield and Cerjat, whom various important matters called to the Argentine Republic, along with three of their clerks.

  13. A large theatrical company heading for Buenos Aires to act in a series of operettas, among them the comic actor Soreau and the diva Jeanne Souze.

  14. The ichthyologist Martignon, off to join a scientific expedition that, embarking in Montevideo on a small steam yacht, was going to conduct soundings in the southern oceans.

  15. Leflaive, the ship’s doctor.

  16. Adinolfa, the great Italian tragedienne, about to appear for the first time before an Argentine audience.

  17. The Hungarian Skariovszki, a highly talented zither player, who performed prodigious feats on his instrument in gypsy garb, for which concert promoters on both sides of the ocean paid handsomely.

  18. The Belgian Cuijper, who justifiably expected to earn astronomical fees with his beautiful tenor voice, which the use of a squeaker made of some mysterious metal rendered magical and remarkable.

  19. A strange assortment of curiosities, trainers, and acrobats heading for a brilliant three-month engagement in a Buenos Aires circus. This odd assortment of personnel included the clown Whirligig; the equestrian Urbain, owner of the steed Romulus; Tancrède Boucharessas, an individual without arms or legs, accompanied by his five children, Hector, Tommy, Marius, Bob, and Stella; the singer Ludovic; the Breton Lelgoualch; Stéphane Alcott and his six sons; and the impresario Jenn with the dwarf Philippo.

  For an entire week the journey remained peaceful and pleasant. But in the middle of the eighth night, a terrible hurricane broke out in mid-Atlantic. The propeller and rudder were snapped off by the violence of the waves, and after two days of aimless drifting, the Lynceus, shoved around like dead wreckage, ran aground on the coast of Africa.

  No one was missing from roll call, but, examining the mangled ship, now carrying nothing more than staved-in lifeboats, we had to abandon all hope of heading back to sea.

  Scarcely off the ship, we saw rushing toward us, with supple leaps, several hundred Negroes who surrounded us gaily, manifesting their joy with loud shouts. They were led by a young chief with an open, intelligent face, who, introducing himself by the name Seil-kor, surprised us profoundly by answering our initial questions in correct, fluent French.

  In just a few words Seil-kor apprised us of his mission, which was to lead us to Ejur, capital of the emperor Talou VII, his master, who’d been awaiting for hours the inevitable wreck of our vessel that a native fisherman had alerted him to; Talou intended to keep us in his power until he was paid a sufficient ransom.

  We had to bow before the strength of their numbers.

  While the Negroes busied themselves with unloading the ship, Seil-kor, yielding to our entreaties, good-naturedly provided various details about our future residence.

  Sitting on a narrow boulder in the shade of a tall cliff, the young orator began by recounting his own story to our attentive group, stretched out here and there in the soft sand.

  At the age of ten, wandering about the same region where fate had just cast us, Seil-kor had met a French explorer named Laubé, who, no doubt seduced by the child’s bright expression, had decided to take him under his wing and bring this living souvenir of his journey back among his people.

  Laubé, who had disembarked on the western coast of Africa, had sworn never to retrace his steps; accompanied by a valiant entourage, he forged onward far to the east, then, turning north, crossed the desert on camelback and finally reached Tripoli, his predetermined destination.

  During the two years devoted to this voyage, Seil-kor had learned French by listening to his companions; struck by his facility with language, the explorer had pushed solicitude to the point of giving the child many fruitful lessons in reading, history, and geography.

  In Tripoli, Laubé expected to rejoin his wife and daughter, who, following certain arrangements made at the time of their separation, should already have been at the Hôtel d’Angleterre for the past two months.

  The explorer experienced a sweet delight on learning from the hotel porter that the two loved ones he’d left behind were indeed waiting for him, after such a long absence from his tender affections.

  Seil-kor slipped out to explore the city, not wishing to intrude on those first joyful moments his protector had awaited so impatiently.

  Returning after an hour, he saw Laubé in the vast main lobby; the explorer showed Seil-kor his room, located on the ground floor and brightly lit by a large open window looking out onto the hotel gardens.

  Having already vaunted Seil-kor’s extraordinary learning, the explorer thought it best to run the child through a brief practice quiz before introducing him to his two new life companions.

  A few questions about key historical events obtained satisfactory replies.

  Next, broaching French geography, Laubé asked for the capitals of various regions cited at random.

  Sitting opposite the window, Seil-kor had not made a single mistake in his almost mechanical recitation, when suddenly, as he was about to name the capital of La Corrèze, he felt faint; his eyes clouded up and his legs began to shake, while his heart thudded rapidly in his chest.

  This disturbance was caused by the sight of a ravishing blonde child of about twelve, who had just entered the garden, and whose marvelous, deep blue gaze had for an instant met Seil-kor’s bedazzled eyes.

  Meanwhile, Laubé, having noticed none of this, repeated impatiently: “The capital of La Corrèze…?”

  The apparition had vanished, and Seil-kor regained his wits enough to murmur, “Tulle.”

  For all eternity, the name of this town would remain linked in Seil-kor’s memory with the unsettling vision.

  The quiz over, Laubé brought Seil-kor to meet his wife and daughter, Nina, in whom the ecstatic young Negro, with heavenly joy, recognized the blonde girl from the garden.

  From that moment on, Seil-kor’s life was illuminated by Nina’s presence, for the two children, being of the same age, were constantly together for both play and study.

  At the time of Nina’s birth, Laubé had been living in Crete with his wife, working on a voluminous tome called Candia and Its Inhabitants. It was thus on foreign soil that the girl had spent her first years, and there she was raised by a tenderhearted Candiote nurse who had imparted to her the soft, charming trace of an accent.

  This accent delighted Seil-kor, whose love and devotion grew with each passing hour.

  He
dreamed of holding Nina in his arms for just a moment; in the depths of his imagination he envisioned her beset by a thousand dangers, from which he saved her with heroic ardor before the eyes of her anxious and grateful parents.

  These fantasies would soon turn into a sudden reality.

  One day, standing on a terrace of the hotel lapped by the sea, Seil-kor was fishing with his sweetheart, who looked ravishing in a navy blue dress that he adored.

  Suddenly Nina shouted with joy upon seeing, at the end of her hook, which she had just lifted out of the water, a heavy, wiggling fish. Pulling the end of her line toward her, she gripped her catch forcefully in order to unhook it. But at the first touch she received a violent shock and collapsed in a dead faint. The fish, which looked like an inoffensive ray, was actually a torpedo fish, whose electric charge had caused this unexpected outcome.

  Seil-kor gathered Nina in his arms and carried her inside the hotel, where, before her father and mother, who had immediately rushed in, she soon came to her senses after her harmless fainting spell.

  His initial fears allayed, Seil-kor blessed the perilous adventure that, making his dream come true, had allowed him to hold his beloved companion for an instant.

  Nina’s birthday fell a few days after this event. For the occasion, Laubé decided to throw a small children’s party, to which he invited the several European families living in the city.

  Having resolved to celebrate the great day by reciting a fable for the girl, Seil-kor spent part of his nights secretly memorizing and practicing his delivery.

  Wishing to give his dear friend a present as well, he decided to risk at gambling the few silver coins he owed to Laubé’s generosity.

  A certain accessible casino in Tripoli featured a game of Parcheesi whose stake could accommodate even the most modest purse.

  Favored by what is commonly called beginner’s luck, Seil-kor, using a martingale, promptly won enough to order a monstrous Savoy cake from the best pastry shop in town, to be served at the height of the party.

  The festivities, which began in daytime, filled the grand ballroom of the hotel with joyful commotion. At around five o’clock, the children, passing into the next room, sat down at an immense table laden with fruits and sweets. At that moment they brought in Seil-kor’s famous cake, which was greeted with cheers and shouts. All eyes turned to the gift-giver, who, standing up without a hint of shyness, recited his fable in a clear, assured voice. At the final verses applause burst out from all sides, and Nina, standing in turn, proposed a toast in honor of Seil-kor, who for a moment became king of the banquet.

  After the snack, the ball continued. Seil-kor and Nina waltzed together, then, tired out from having covered the entire floor several times, they broke off near Mme Laubé, who, standing calmly, watched with delight the beautiful childish merriment all around her.

  Seeing her daughter approach with her companion, the excellent woman, grateful for all of Seil-kor’s attentions, turned smiling to the young Negro and said in a gentle voice, pointing at Nina, “Give her a kiss!”

  Seil-kor, his head spinning, wrapped his arms around his friend and deposited on her fresh cheeks two chaste kisses that left him giddy and unsteady on his feet.

  Not long after this grand yet somehow intimate occasion, Laubé, whose energies had been revived by the stay in Tripoli, decided to return to France. The explorer owned a small family château, near a village called Port d’Oo in the Pyrenees, whose calm and isolation he prized highly. It would be the ideal place for him to turn his notes into a detailed account of his voyage.

  The departure was set without delay. After a pleasant crossing, Laubé and his family disembarked in Marseille, where they took a train for Port d’Oo.

  Seil-kor was very happy in his new residence; the château was located in the breathtaking Valley of Oo, and every day the young African and Nina went on long adventures in the forest, enjoying the last rays of a warm, clement autumn.

  One evening, their aimless stroll having led them to the village, the two children happened upon a traveling circus troupe squeezed into a cart that slowly cruised the streets; they distributed leaflets to the curious onlookers and drew the crowd’s attention with sales patter and thumps of the bass drum.

  Seil-kor, who had been handed two leaflets, read them with Nina. The first, laid out like a broadside, began with a long sentence in large letters announcing the sensational arrival of the Ferréol troupe, comprising acrobats, dancers, and tightrope walkers. The second half emphatically urged all Frenchmen to beware, given the presence on their territory of the ringleader, the famous wrestler Ferréol, who could singlehandedly demolish armies and topple ramparts. The exhortation began, “Tremble, people of France!…” with the word “Tremble” splashing across the page in huge, eye-catching letters that formed a kind of headline.

  The other leaflet, smaller in size, carried this simple testimonial: “We were bested by Ferréol,” followed by countless signatures, reproduced in facsimile, from fearsome professionals whom the illustrious champion had laid flat.

  The next day, Seil-kor and Nina returned to the village square to see the announced performance. A large dais stretched high into the air, and the two children had a great time watching the jugglers, clowns, magicians, and trained animals that paraded before their eyes for two hours.

  At a certain moment, three men appeared and set up on the right, at the edge of the dais, a section of Renaissance façade, its upper floor pierced by a large balcony window.

  Soon, a second, similar stage set stood on the left, at the other end of the floorboards, and one of the stagehands carefully hung an iron wire between the two balconies, which were positioned exactly opposite each other.

  Scarcely were these preparations completed when the right-hand window quietly opened to let through a young woman dressed like a princess from the time of Charles IX. The stranger made a sign with her hand, and immediately the other window yielded to a richly adorned nobleman who appeared at his own balcony. The newcomer, in a brocaded doublet, short breeches, and velvet pillbox cap, wore a stiffly encasing ruff and a mysterious mask appropriate to the clandestine expedition he seemed to be planning.

  After an exchange of signals full of admonitions and promises, the lover, straddling his balustrade, posed his foot on the tightwire; then, arms outstretched like a balancing pole, he endeavored to cross, via the aerial route he had, in his daring, chosen, the distance separating him from his lovely neighbor.

  But suddenly, cocking her ear toward the inside of the house as if listening for the step of a jealous rival, the woman rushed back to her room, warning the bold lover with a hand signal; the latter, retreating with great strides, regained his point of departure and hid behind the curtains.

  Several moments later, the two windows opened almost simultaneously, and the hazardous voyage began again with renewed hope. This time the crossing continued to the very end without false alarms, and the two lovers fell into each other’s arms amid prolonged applause.

  The tightwire and twin stage sets were hastily removed, and a young Spanish couple, rushing onstage, immediately began dancing a frenetic bolero, accompanied by shouts and stamping feet. Both the woman, in a mantilla, and the man, in a waist-length jacket and sombrero, held in their right hands Basque tambourines with jingles, on which they beat vigorously in time. After ten minutes of continual pirouettes and hip thrusts, the two dancers ended by freezing in a smiling, graceful pose, while the electrified crowd applauded wildly.

  The performance ended with several stunning victories by the famous Ferréol, and night was already falling when Seil-kor and Nina, delighted by their afternoon, headed arm in arm back to the château.

  The next day, kept indoors by a fine, persistent drizzle, the two children had to forgo their daily walk. Happily, the château grounds contained a huge shed with a vast space suitable for even the most rambunctious games; it was under this shelter that the two scamps went to spend their playtime.

  Haunt
ed by the previous day’s show, Nina had taken along her sewing basket, intending to make Seil-kor an outfit like the one the tightrope walker had worn. In the back of the shed, two horse carriages facing each other, their harnessing shafts placed end to end, offered a convenient and easy testing ground for a first attempt by the still novice funambulist.

  Armed with a pair of scissors, a needle and thread, and the two leaflets Seil-kor had kept, Nina set to work; from the first sheet she cut a pillbox cap, and from the second a mask decorated with two strings to go around the back of the ears.

  The ruff required a larger supply of paper; in a corner of the shed, thrown on a scrap heap, lay a pile of back issues of La Nature, a magazine Laubé received regularly and for which he wrote all his travel narratives. Ripping the blue covers from numerous copies, Nina was able to fashion an elegant collar of uniform hue, and soon, adorned with the three items carefully confected by the adroit crafts-woman, Seil-kor made his debut in the tightrope walker’s trade, crossing the narrow, unsteady path provided by the two shafts from one end to the other.

  Encouraged by this initial success, the children then decided to copy the Spanish couple’s bolero.

  Seil-kor removed his paper disguise and the dance began, soon turning chaotic and feverish. Nina in particular put a strange ardor into her gesticulations, clapping her hands sharply to replace the rhythmic resonance of the Basque tambourine and continuing her giddy frolics without a thought for fatigue or shortness of breath. Suddenly, halted in full frenzy by the bell for afternoon tea, the two dancers left the shed to return to the château.

  The temperature had dropped with the early twilight, and a kind of melted snow, penetrating and frigid, fell slowly from the opaque sky.

  Bathed in sweat from the mad, prolonged dance, Nina was overcome by terrible shivers, which stopped in the dining room, where the first fire of the season blazed in the hearth.