Collected Works of Gaston Leroux

by Gaston Leroux

  Nevertheless, in spite of all these fine reasonings, she wished she had already left him. Now it was Antonio’s words which came back to her: “Leave him.... Get away from him as soon as you can. You know what you ought not to know.” In reality she knew nothing. Nor did Antonio know anything. He had confessed as much. “It may be terrible — it may be nothing.” A few young girls had set out for the fazenda, and he had never seen them again.... But then he never left his vessel....

  Many roads led to the fazenda. These young girls were not necessarily obliged to return in Antonio’s ship. Many harbours were scattered along the coast. Then again, Paraguay was not so very far away. And during recent years railways were pushing the frontier of civilization into the jungle and into this sertao, which, after all, was not so sinister a place as she imagined.

  Thus ran Irene’s thoughts, allaying the intensity of the dread which oppressed her, because as it happened they were passing through a most captivating country. With its giant trees, flowers, sunlight, fragrant air, and the songs of birds she could not imagine this land as anything but an earthly paradise. The feathered world were not imprisoned in cages as in the gardens of Don Manoel de Carangola! But suppose she had found herself confronted with a flight of vultures instead of these birds of bright plumage? Suppose it were night instead of day? Her mind would have been obsessed by a terrible bogy. All of us would have been in like case. In truth we are all children....

  Ma Casa suddenly dropped anchor off a small strand where a number of natives greeted their arrival with shouts of joy. These people were wellnigh naked, and tattooed from head to foot. There was, however, no ferocity in their expression. The most that could be said of them was that their faces, lit up with a welcoming smile, had somewhat prominent jaws, which, of course, in itself has no particular significance....

  The landing of the luggage and bales was effected with remarkable celerity by means of a sliding way which connected the yacht with the river’s bank. The Ma Casa crew had not even to land. When the work was completed Languequetrou came up to Irene and offered her his arm.

  “You will not decline to have a look round my fazenda, senhora?”

  “Have we got there?” she asked.

  “Not quite, but we shall soon be there.”

  She hesitated for a moment. But, after all, if he had evil designs on her would she be in worse case than on board the yacht where she was a prisoner in his power? On the other hand, would it not be much easier to escape on land if she thought it advisable? Was not that Antonio’s opinion?... Poor Antonio!

  She determined to conceal her misgivings, and took Languequetrou’s arm. A litter was ready for her, a well-made, comfortable litter containing a number of silk cushions embroidered in gold, on which, in other circumstances, she would have reclined with delight. Four stalwart, copper-coloured carriers lifted it as soon as she was settled, and bore the structure on their shoulders. Then she observed a negro boy, almost a dwarf, who held a fan of palm leaves with comic dignity.

  The cavalcade was being organized behind her; the carriers were loading their beasts of burden. Languequetrou was on horseback. He brought up the rear, and seemed to be in a brown study.

  They set out on their march, following a trail which led into the forest. Irene beheld a native abreast of the litter. He seemed to be in command of the carriers and to have received orders’ to act as guard for he did not leave her. He was a dignified old man, wearing, like the natives in the sertao, very little clothing, but the rings and other geometrical figures tattooed upon his body were not more unpleasant to the sight than the marks of cupping which may be seen on the backs of ladies in the night dancing clubs of Europe.

  His features were not without fine lines. The strangest part of his face lay in the total absence of eyelashes and eyebrows. He held his head high, and though near Irene, seemed wrapped in a scornful silence. And yet she had never so ardently longed for a confidant.

  Possibly he understood Portuguese. She said a word of congratulation on the manner in which he had organized the caravan, expressing her pleasure at finding herself in this marvellous country. He answered that he did not belong to the country, but came from much farther north, and that his ancestors, driven out by white men many centuries before, had sought shelter in the jungle in order to live a free life, the only life worthy of man such as Tarou had made him.

  “Who is Tarou?”

  “Tarou is our God — just, but terrible. He will chastise the white men.”

  “Have you never heard of the benefits of civilization?”

  “I have heard that word,” he returned bitterly. “Your piayes...”

  “What are piayes?”

  “Your priests, your witch-doctors, mention it twenty times a day, but the deeds of the ‘civilized ‘ belie their fine words. Do you also, senhora, indulge in fine speeches?”

  “No,” declared Irene, anxious to make a friend of the old man.

  “Silence is better than lies,” he said, as though congratulating her. “I should not care to hear you tell us, like all the pale faces, that the heritage of our fathers and our hunting grounds have been taken from us out of love of mankind.” A hoarse jeer came from his throat. “Civilization! I have met it more than once in my time. The pale faces spread it at the point of their rifles...”

  “What tribe do you belong to?” asked Irene, now regretting the conversation.

  “The most famous of all. We are probably the last of the Botocudos in Brazil.”

  “The Botocudos!” she cried. “But I have heard this tribe described as cannibals.”

  “What do you mean by cannibals?” he asked. “People who eat their prisoners and live on human flesh.”

  “Well, well,” he said. “I did not know the word, but we are the last of the cannibals.”

  CHAPTER XV

  THE THREE VIRGINS

  CANNIBALS! IRENE HAD fallen among a tribe of cannibals, or rather she had been taken among them. By whom?... A planter dressed in ordinary civilized garb, a rich man with motorcars, yacht and so forth, the proprietor of a fashionable millinery establishment in the Rue de la Paix of Rio de Janeiro. And that man’s name was Languequetrou!

  It was obviously the work of generations to transform a savage into a civilized being. A good tailor and fine speech are not enough. To play the coquette with a man in good society was a dangerous game, but to play it with a king of Patagonia — there was no knowing where that might lead!

  Lying in the litter, feeling half dead by now and fit subject for a meal for cannibals, Irene cast a dismayed look around her. They had left the arched vault of the oderiferous woods, which she had compared to an earthly paradise, entered the sertao itself, an immense wilderness of grass shrivelled by the blazing sun, and reached the lesser chain of a mountain range whence they plunged into the darksome horror of the virgin forest. On the borders of the forest stood a few strips of wall which might once have pertained to a fazenda. The dignified old native with a dramatic gesture pointed to the ruins, and in a low voice exclaimed: “The Three Virgins!”

  The next moment he retired behind the litter while Languequetrou rode forward and took his place. He did not appear to heed Irene’s prostration, and speaking in Portuguese straightway plunged into a story:

  “Some forty years ago this fazenda, ‘The Three Virgins,’ was the home of a family consisting of father and mother, their parents, two sons and three daughters. The girls were famed for their loveliness. Thus a crowd of suitors gathered round them, without, however, touching their hearts. The youngest was the first to accept a husband. A young man from Iguapé managed to meet with approval and the marriage was arranged by the heads of the two families. On the day fixed for the ceremony the young man betook himself with the members of his family to his fiancée’s home. But he found the fazenda and its inmates plunged into the deepest grief. The night before, his bride had disappeared.

  “They scoured the country, they even organized an expedition into the forest, for the n
ews reached them that some Botocudos hunters had been seen in the neighbourhood. Nevertheless they failed to trace the savages, and they had to resign themselves to mourn the beautiful girl as dead, ignorant of her fate.

  “Several months slipped away....

  “In her turn the eldest girl relented, and became engaged to the heir of a wealthy sugar planter. One evening she and her future husband were chatting together not far from the house. It was dinner-time. As they did not come in, her brothers went in search of them at the place to which they were accustomed to resort for a quiet talk. A terrible sight met their eyes. A man lay bleeding at the foot of a tree — it was the son of the sugar planter. But they found no trace of their sister. It was to no purpose that they lavished every care and attention on the young man with a view to saving his life. An arrow had pierced his heart, and he died without uttering a word. It was to no purpose, also, that they appealed to all the hunters round about, and a detachment of native soldiers penetrated the forest. The savages had vanished as if by magic, leaving not the faintest trace of their passage.

  “When the youngest girl was kidnapped her father was disposed to suspect some personal enemy as the author of the crime. The oval-pointed arrow which pierced the body of his prospective son-in-law clearly indicated the hand which had struck the blow. The father must have incurred, without knowing it, the enmity of the Botocudos, who were wreaking their vengeance on his daughters.

  “Becoming wary after this second outrage, he had recourse to the same cunning and stratagem which the natives themselves display to avoid being taken by surprise. He had traps dug outside his plantation; placed chevaux de frise at various spots, and maintained a sharp look-out at all times. His precautions were of no avail. The last of the three sisters disappeared in like manner without the least sign of a Botocudo being seen anywhere near. The unhappy father and his wife felt that they must die of grief. The brothers got together a search party which continued its efforts for a fortnight.

  Not a single savage was encountered; the girl had disappeared with the same magic as before. But they found remains of savage encampments in the forest. Partly gnawed bones, half-burnt twigs, hair hanging to a tree, left no doubt of the nature of the feast in which the Botocudos were engaged when compelled to flee. One of the sons upon close examination seemed to recognize his sister’s fair hair. He wanted to continue the pursuit of the Indians alone, and it was no easy matter to bring home to him the madness of his plan. At length he gave way and retired with his companions. The failure of the expedition, and the thought of the three girls’ frightful fate, overwhelmed their father and brought their mother in sorrow to the grave.

  “The fazenda was abandoned....

  “It was not until two years after this event that the truth became known. A body of Indians was captured by native soldiers. Those among them who failed to make good their escape fell to the bullets of the Brazilians. But six prisoners were taken and made a complete confession.

  “The hair clinging to the tree and the bones on the ground were those of the hapless young girl for whom the expedition went in search. They were equally enlightened as to the fate of the two sisters. The Indians’ explanation was simple enough.

  “Their chief, a valiant and redoubtable warrior, desiring to add to the importance of the initiation ceremonies, resolved that they should be followed by a grand banquet. The hunters took their bows and launched into the forest. He himself set out with four of his tribe. He was away for some days. When he returned to the camp he brought with him a Brazilian girl of rare beauty. It was the youngest of the three sisters. After the initiation of the young warriors, the victim was led to the sacrifice, and neither her beauty nor her prayers availed her. The feast began and was continued until daybreak.... The young girl had been devoured....

  “A new festival was in preparation. The chief set out for a second time, and the same sanguinary scene was enacted.

  “Congratulated by his followers on the good quality of the human flesh he had provided, the chief boldly proclaimed that he possessed a ‘well-stored larder’ on the far side of the forest, and on the next occasion would provide them with an even greater surprise. He kept his word, and the last of the three girls suffered the fate of her sisters. [This story is related at length in M. Charles Capilly’s work on Brazil. — AUTHOR’S NOTE.]

  “Such is the story of ‘The Three Virgins,’” concluded Languequetrou. “You will know all there is to be known, senhora, when I tell you that the ‘witch-doctor’ in question was the noble-looking old man in command of your escort.”

  Irene, at bay, gasped out the word: “Savage !” and fell back with a face like a death’s-head. Yet she was by no means dead, for she heard very clearly the words which unexpectedly fell from the lips of the man whom she persisted in regarding as her torturer.

  “You may say, senhora, that these men were most terrible savages. If we include the cannibals still inhabiting the forests of French Guiana, they are the last adherents in this country of a form of diet which fortunately has had its day. You might search in vain in the remotest corners of my father’s realm for man-eaters. They are no longer so. After your splendid lecture on the benefits of civilization, I told you what my aims were. I made no secret of my intentions when I mount the throne of my ancestors. I want to make Patagonia one of the richest, most prosperous, most civilized nations in the world. Meanwhile I have made experiments in Brazil which are most encouraging. I have kept in touch with people and things. I have cleared immense tracts of country and prepared them for the cultivation of maize, rice, tobacco, cotton. I have conquered acres of forest land and obtained rubber from them. To think that Norway used to furnish timber to Brazil! To think that sea-port towns used to import from that country beams, packing-cases and planks which they needed for business purposes because, however extraordinary it may seem to you, it cost less to import these things than to fell trees in the wooded districts quite near. Since the abolition of slavery labour has become scarce. I have built saw-mills. I have introduced machinery producing results twenty times greater than those which I might have obtained from natives under the lash of a slave-driver. And my saw-mills to-day export their ebony and mahogany to Europe. That is what I have done in the face of great difficulties....

  “And now let me tell you what I have done for the workers. In all my work-yards, in all my plantations I have provided schools. I have made my appeal to the most savage and refractory among them. I heard this heart-rending story of ‘The Three Virgins’ by accident at Rio. I know that planters, terror-stricken, deserted this part of the sertao in which, after traversing the whole of Brazil, the last of the Botocudos pitched their tents and lived their lives as cannibals. I determined to establish a fazenda in these parts and make my experiments here....

  “I have in this way set up some twenty ranches, each independent of the other, spread throughout, or rather buried away, in this vast territory. Not one of them is in my own name. Very few persons are aware of my efforts; I make no attempt at propaganda. This land is interesting to me as a field for experiment, and because civilization marches forward with giant strides. To the Brazilians I am a somewhat eccentric person — the king of the Patagonians, gifted with a certain intelligence, possessing a business instinct, a successful tobacco planter. I shall not be understood until later, and then my statue in bronze will be erected in the main square of the capital of my realm, the capital which I should like to call after you, Irene. And thus your name would be handed down with mine to posterity....

  “But to return to our cannibals. In less than two years I have transformed them into the most humane persons in the forest. True, they have not entirely broken with the past, with, for example, the traditions of their vulgar superstitions, but their manners have become ameliorated; they make excellent servants. As to their food, they have entirely abandoned their old disgraceful festivals. I may even say for certain that human flesh now disgusts them.”

  “You have done all this!” e
xclaimed Irene, as each word from Languequetrou seemed to awaken her from her lethargy.

  “Well yes, sennora,” he returned modestly, lowering his eyes.

  “Why, you are wonderful!”

  “I do not ask for praise until I am dead and my work is accomplished,” he cried with an air seemingly remote from the things of this world.

  “But after all,” went on Irene, displaying at last an absorbing interest in his utterance, “how were you able to obtain such results — in the matter of diet for instance?”

  “In the matter of diet, as in other things — by persuasion.”

  “What do you mean by persuasion? You greatly arouse my curiosity.”

  “They knew nothing of what you call in your country good homely fare. My first care was to come here with a chef who knew how to make wonderful dishes. At the end of six months they had no wish for any other cooking. Then I set up a school of cuisine under the management of my chef who found pupils of remarkable aptitude among them, for they all have a sweet tooth.”

  “Come, come, it all sounds like a fairytale.”

  “You have only to question the ‘witch-doctor,’ senhora.”

  “The dignified-looking old man?”

  “Yes, the man who captured and roasted the three girls. You will then, perhaps, be convinced. Besides, what I have told you is, in reality, not so very extraordinary. What about the natives of your New Caledonia? Did they not gradually give up devouring their prisoners and even members of their own tribe? Civilized influences are at work everywhere; but what I may congratulate myself upon is the excellence of my methods, which have enabled me to do in a few months what civilization in other countries has taken centuries to accomplish.”

  “And did they give up eating human flesh practically at a day’s notice?” persisted Irene, seemingly eager to clear up this point in the conversation.