IN THE ABYSS

AFTER he left the prisons Chéri-Bibi returned to his cabin much exercised in mind by the new attitude of his prisoners, and realizing quite well that the little farce which he was playing with the shipwrecked passengers was drawing to a close. Prompt in his resolutions, as becomes a man of action, he sent for the Toper and gave his orders for the end of the entertainment as far as the ladies were concerned; he could hear the audience over his head singing in chorus.

“That will teach them to speak ill of Cecily.”

No sooner was the matter settled than he dismissed the Toper, ordering him to send the Dodger to him.

The Dodger did not come at once, and, beginning to lose patience, he pushed open the cabin door, and his eyes fell upon two men, who did not see him, but thinking that they were alone in that part of the vessel, were chatting over their own affairs. It was Baron Proskof and the Marquis du Touchais. Chéri-Bibi imagined that they were talking about the unforeseen incident which occurred in the Zoological Gardens, and the disquieting considerations which the revolt of the prisoners may have suggested to them. But he was mistaken; he did not know these men. They were talking “women.”

We have had occasion, more than once, since the arrival of the shipwrecked persons on board the _Bayard_ to refer to Baron Proskof’s depressed condition. His melancholy aspect was entirely to the worthy Polish nobleman’s credit, seeing that it was not more than two or three days since the Baroness, his precious spouse, was no more, or at all events, since he believed that she was no more. It was to no purpose that Maxime du Touchais endeavored to rouse him from his grief, representing to him that if anyone had cause for sorrow it was he, du Touchais, who had suffered so heavy a loss while the Baron at least still possessed the million francs.

At the moment when their conversation was overheard by Chéri-Bibi, Baron Proskof was launching into a eulogy of his wife.

“She was a woman of superior intelligence, whom I can never replace, nor can you either, my dear Marquis, however much you may try. That Madame d’Artigues makes me quite ashamed. She is not worthy to tie the shoe strings of the Belle of Dieppe, as she was called.”

“I quite agree with you, my dear Baron, but what is a poor man to do? One must be sensible. I’m still too young to settle down.”

“Do you know what I should do if I were in your place?”

“What?”

“Well, I should return as soon as possible to my wife, and wait quietly until I was positive that the Baroness was dead, for after all we cannot be absolutely sure of anything.... Look here, your wife is a very charming woman, and I feel confident that she would be delighted to see you again.”

“That’s not what the ladies think. You heard what they said at lunch.”

“What! Do you take any notice of what those silly ninnies say.... Aren’t you certain of the Marchioness?”

“Certain of what?... Can one ever tell with saints?...” sneered the Marquis.

The remainder of the conversation was lost to Chéri-Bibi; moreover, he would have been unable to listen to another word. The Dodger found him as white as a sheet, stretched on his sofa.

“Are you ill?” exclaimed the devoted baker’s man. “Shall I go and fetch the Kanaka?”

“No, I want to see his wife first,” returned Chéri-Bibi in a whisper.

“The Countess?”

“Yes, the Countess.... At once.”

The Dodger informed the Countess, who came down in the interval between two Boston two-steps. She betrayed a certain anxiety when she found the Captain so ill.

“Shut the door,” said Chéri-Bibi.

“But what’s the matter?”

“Something....”

He got up and plunged his head into a basin of water, and having thus collected his thoughts, appeared to be much better. The Countess watched him, completely at a loss, as he dabbed the towel on his forehead.

“I say, listen to me,” said Chéri-Bibi, sitting down by her side and taking her hands. “I know that you love me, Countess.”

“Yes,” she answered simply and sadly, “but you don’t love me.”

“I want to tell you, Countess.... You were too late, you see, my heart was engaged.”

“I always thought as much.... It is the worst misfortune of my life.”

“Let’s be brief, but let’s be frank, Countess. Since you love me, will you do something for me?”

“Anything you like.”

“Oh, yes, but ... something ... something out of the way....”

“Anything you like.”

“Well, to begin with, tell me what you and the Kanaka did with the strips of flesh that you cut out of the patient.”

“Oh, that,” she cried. And she withdrew her hands, and rose to her feet.

“You see, there are things that you won’t do for me.”

She retreated to a corner of the cabin as if she were afraid now of Chéri-Bibi and dared not meet him, and she said in a hoarse, muffled voice:

“I know quite well what people say.”

“Is it true?... Tell me ... me.... Is it true?” Chéri-Bibi entreated her.

She shook her head so wildly and fiercely that her splendid hair became unconfined and floated in dark waves over her shoulders.

“No, no,” she said in a choking voice. “It’s not true, it’s not true.”

“It was mentioned at the Assize Court.”

“Oh, that isn’t true, either,” she said between her teeth. “No, no, they wouldn’t have dared ... they wouldn’t have dared.... The judge let himself go a little too far, but he at once pulled himself up ... at once. Our counsel told him that he had no right at all to hint even vaguely at such a thing when he was not certain ... when there was no evidence. The incident was closed ... at once. Oh, if you had seen the Court. Women fainted merely at the thought of it.... Chéri-Bibi, I love you, and wouldn’t lie to you. I tell you again that we didn’t do such things....”

She dropped on the sofa beside him and wanted him to take her hands in his, but it was his turn to stand up. He paced up and down the cabin wrapped in thought, and then standing before her:

“It’s a pity,” he said.

“What do you mean, it’s a pity?”

“Yes, it’s a pity. I had dreamed of giving you somebody to eat!”

“I know whom you mean,” she said as she rose from the sofa and clung to him. “It’s the Marquis. I thought during lunch that you were going to do for him.”

“Oh no, not at all,” he said; “that would have been too good for him. I tell you, Countess, that when I think of him I go clean off my head. I should like to invent sufferings ... tortures for him.... Oh, I believed everything that was said against the Kanaka.... I thought that.... Never mind, we’ll say no more about it, since it’s not true.”

The Countess had an absorbed expression on her face.

“What did that man do to you?” she asked.

“He tore my heart out of me.... Do you understand?”

“Oh yes, I understand.”

“And then he’s too fat, too big, too healthy, too happy, too successful. He wants a particular woman and he planks down a million francs for her ... he has everything. He’s a monster.”

“Yes, yes, I understand you.... Is he very rich?”

“Rich isn’t the word. He has millions ... millions. What are you thinking about? Why do you turn your head away? Why are your cheeks so pale, and why is there a look of gloom in your eyes? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“I want to know what you are thinking about.”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Yes, you are. Something crossed your mind. I tell you that something crossed your mind. I saw a shudder at the thought of it pass over your face. Countess, tell me what the idea is.”

“Never.... It’s too awful.”

“Ah, there you are, you see.... I insist on knowing what your idea is.”

“I should never dare to tell you. You yourself would reject it. Yes, you, Chéri-Bibi, would consider that my idea was too awful. And then it’s not merely my idea. It’s really a secret between the Kanaka and me; a secret which we keep because, believe me, the scaffold is at the end of it. So you understand why I can’t tell you anything.”

“I see you want to keep me on tenter-hooks. You are trying to whet my appetite. You don’t love me, Countess.”

“More than you think, Chéri-Bibi, and it’s just because I do love you that I can’t tell you anything.”

“So it’s something more awful than I imagined.”

“More awful than what?”

“More awful than cannibalism.”

The Countess did not reply for a moment. She was in a state of indescribable agitation. She could not meet Chéri-Bibi’s eyes.... At last a few words escaped her in a murmur.

“Yes, it is much worse than that. Oh, leave me, leave me.”

Chéri-Bibi took her in his arms, and she was but a poor weak woman. She no longer resisted his desire to know. Nevertheless, she sent him to the Kanaka.

“I personally don’t mind. Listen, my Chéri-Bibi, I don’t mind your knowing it. I won’t stand in the way of his telling you about the frightful thing. I am certain that you will shrink from it. But if you ever talk about it, it will cost both of us our heads.... I give you mine, I give you mine. Take it.”

She gave him her beautiful face and her white lips which could not have been more bloodless if the executioner had already done his work. But Chéri-Bibi, who thought only of vengeance, would not let his eyes fall upon the gift that was offered to him.

“Countess, go and fetch the Kanaka,” he said.

She fell back on the sofa in an attitude of despair, her disheveled head held between her clasped hands like a Magdalene mourning for her sins, and then she drew herself up and looked once more at Chéri-Bibi, wild-eyed.

“I will go,” she said.

But first she stopped before a glass and arranged her disordered locks; and then she hurriedly left the cabin.

Five minutes later the Kanaka came in. He was looking yellow and his eyes were bloodshot. He was alone.

“Where’s the Countess?” asked Chéri-Bibi.

“She’s returned to the dance,” answered the Kanaka, who kept his eyes fixed on Chéri-Bibi.

“And we, where are we?”

“We are making for the Gulf of Guinea, and everything is ready for to-night. The wreckage has been set aside for the purpose. We shall throw what is necessary overboard so that it will be believed that the ship went down with all hands. Then to-morrow, at the earliest moment, we shall proceed to fake a disguise for her.”

“Do you think that we shall be able to coal and take in provisions at Cape Town without running into danger?”

“It will be quite easy seeing that we have command of the ship, and need stay only for the night.”

“What flag shall we fly afterwards?”

“That remains to be considered. Personally, I vote for the Argentine flag. There are some forty of us on board who speak Spanish fluently. And then, as we shan’t stop anywhere, no one will want to poke his nose into our affairs. Once we reach the Malay Archipelago....”

“I say, Kanaka, what’s the matter? You don’t seem to me to be yourself.”

“The Countess told me, Chéri-Bibi, that....”

“Well?”

“Well....”

“Come, make up your mind. Can you do anything for me?”

“It’s something appalling, Chéri-Bibi, and you wouldn’t stand it.”

“Tell me what it is.”

“If ever you blab, the Countess and I would be done for, when we returned to civilization, which is a possibility that we must always reckon on.”

“Do you take me for a spy?”

“No, that I do not, but we’ve got to be careful. Besides, I must tell you that the thing may not succeed.”

“I don’t follow you at all, Kanaka, or rather I don’t know what you mean; but anyway, tell me, would he suffer?”

“Would he suffer! I should think he would suffer.... I’m pretty well certain that you’d say he would suffer too much.”

“You don’t know me, Kanaka. If you only realized how much I want him to suffer.... Go on, I’m listening.”

The Kanaka went to the other end of the cabin, held his face between his hands, and seemed to be thinking desperately. Chéri-Bibi did not disturb him. At last the Kanaka raised his head. His face was yellower than ever and his eyes were suffused with blood. He was frightful to look upon. It was as though he were already the victim of some over-stimulation, partly cerebral and partly physiological, which had rendered him a hideous brute beast.

He crossed the cabin with tottering footsteps, stretched out his arms, took Chéri-Bibi by the shoulders, looked around to see if the doors were properly closed, and bent over the convict’s ear. And slowly, slowly, with pauses and catches in his breath, by fits and starts, he poured into his ear the liquor of his diabolical secret.

Chéri-Bibi seemed in his turn to be lost in a sickly exultation. His shoulders were convulsed, his hands trembled, his eyes became dilated, and the perspiration broke from his brazen forehead in great drops.

At length the Kanaka ceased speaking and drew back, folding his arms. And Chéri-Bibi also folded his arms, and thus they remained for a space of ten minutes gazing at each other in silence. And then Chéri-Bibi fled, closing the door on the Kanaka, who continued to stand erect, his arms folded as motionless as a statue.... Chéri-Bibi, in a few leaps, like a tiger, had mounted the deck.

He needed air ... he needed to think things out. The songs, the choruses, the shouting and the dancing on the quarter-deck drove him away to the forecastle. And here, alone with sea and sky, he shut out the world and communed with himself. He walked in a circle, breathing hard, and he thought in a circle about the Kanaka’s secret, which he had determined to know, and which tempted him as the dream of dominion over the world tempted Satan. He lifted his eyes to heaven as was his wont when he appealed to fate; the _Fatum_ which he felt was always hanging over his head, and bearing down with all its irresistible force upon his shoulders.

His exploits were so tremendous that in his ingenuous pride he regarded them as the one and only preoccupation of time and circumstance. He knew of no more remarkable or desperate calamities than his own, and in his cruel but childish imagination he was allied to those accursed beings in the history of primitive man--of whom he had read long ago at school--who were always in direct communication with the omnipotent God, whom they endeavored to reach by piling mountain upon mountain, or to appease by offering up the most terrible sacrifices.

“Why do you subject me to this new ordeal?” he cried in a loud voice, as if he were addressing one whom he looked upon as his most relentless enemy. “Do you not know full well that I could not fight against this temptation?... The very thought of it burns me like a flaming robe.”

He was off once more in his mad tramp round and round, halting a few moments later to resume his strange soliloquy. But it was to the Kanaka this time that he addressed his fervid speech.

“Your words, Kanaka, are easily comprehended.... Even a child could understand them.... But my mind is racked by a deadly torment.... Hope gnaws at the pit of my stomach like a hound!...”

He started away again like a man escaped from Bedlam. Then he stopped once more shouting and foaming at the mouth.... Chéri-Bibi, Chéri-Bibi, whence come this sudden delirium and anguish without apparent reason? Why those cries of terror and horror to which you give the blessed name of hope?... On the poop, between sea and sky, you seem as appalling, as menacing but also as awestruck as was Satan on the mountain before the temptation of Jesus Christ. And then suddenly you collapse! You plunge once more, with lowered head, into the inferno where the Kanaka, turned to stone, awaits you.

Chéri-Bibi pushed open the door of the cabin wherein the statue stood, needing but one word to come to life again. And he threw this word at him.

“Come,” he said.

The Kanaka unfolded his arms, held out his hand to Chéri-Bibi, who grasped it warmly.

And they parted without a word.

On deck the entertainment was “in full swing,” as the saying goes. Mesdames d’Artigues, de Valrieu and de Fontainebleau, in their tent, were in a state of mind which approximated more and more to a feeling of dismay, for they became aware that practically they were prisoners, notwithstanding the strange words of politeness which the even stranger naval officer lavished on them from time to time. They had in vain endeavored to steal away. On the plea that the intense excitement of the crew would only increase, and that it would be dangerous for them to attempt to go, they were not allowed to move. The tumult of fierce shouting and foul songs reached their ears, and they threw themselves, affrighted, into each other’s arms.

They called out loudly for the Marquis and the Baron and Robert and d’Artigues. Thus it was with a sense of relief that they saw Robert and d’Artigues hurrying in. But their joy was of short duration.

Robert and d’Artigues had been as startled as they were by all that they had seen and heard.

After the outbreak in Chéri-Bibi’s presence in the cages down below, they determined to obtain some clear idea of the position, and with that object they made their way into certain parts of the ship from which previously, it would appear, they had been deliberately excluded. They had thus been able to witness some rather amazing sights.

To begin with, they noticed that there was an incredible confusion and lack of discipline. Moreover, they had come upon a cordon of convict guards, who prevented them from setting foot into the alley-ways and cabins whence they could hear the cries and groans of women and children; of women calling for their husbands, and children calling to their fathers.

When they sought to obtain some explanation, they were ordered to leave, the men jeering at them in ominous fashion and advising them, in their own interests, to show a little less curiosity in future. Bourrelier and d’Artigues, in trembling voices, had reached this point in their disclosures when Baron Proskof came in. He was in a state of such terror that he could not at first utter a word. Finally, they heard him stammer:

“The Marquis ... the Marquis....”

“What about the Marquis?” asked the beautiful Madame d’Artigues, in anguished tones.

“Well, the Marquis has disappeared.”

“How do you mean disappeared?”

“He disappeared before my eyes.... I can’t explain it at all. I thought he was still with me. We were in the alley-way, not far from my cabin, talking of one thing and another, for we had slipped away from that awful entertainment, and suddenly, when I turned round, he was no longer standing beside me. I looked about, I went into the cabins, I shouted his name. He answered me, but his voice came from the distance, and after a moment he was silent, and it seemed as if he were choking.

“He was undoubtedly the victim of some aggression. The unfortunate thing is that I did not manage to get a clear idea of the exact spot where he was. The ship seems to be run as if the whole business is a matter of play-acting. Abominable things are happening round us.

“Into what sort of hands have we fallen? The convict guards are as much to be feared as the convicts themselves. Besides, where is the Captain? We can’t see him. I tried to talk to the officers.... They’re drunk.... It was only with great difficulty that I reached this place. We must get away from here. The whole thing is awful....”

At this point the entrance to the tent was lifted and two of the three sailors belonging to the _Belle of Dieppe_, who had come on board the _Bayard_ with them, rushed in. Their mate had just been stabbed in the heart and killed by one of the ruffians who was trying to take his lady partner from him. And as they attempted to avenge him, other ruffians sprang at them, and gave the whole game away. The _Bayard_ was in the hands of convicts, and the man who had received them, as Captain, was neither more nor less than Chéri-Bibi. Chéri-Bibi himself!

Madame d’Artigues sank to the floor in a faint. Carmen and Nadège uttered piercing shrieks. At the same moment their improvised tent was flooded by a yelling mob, who carried the three of them on to the platform, where they were exhibited to the fierce curiosity and longings of a crew of raving madmen.... They were about to draw lots for them!...

Nevertheless, it was beyond doubt that the result of the draw would not be respected. Already those infernal faces were bending over the poor women, clutching them, snatching at them, quarreling over them.

The gang of exasperated convicts who were unable to mount the platform, seeing that the men around had seized the women without further ado, and without a word about the lottery, let themselves go in infuriated shouts and protests. The hapless women were about to vanish under the constantly increasing flood of convicts and be stifled to death when an interruption occurred which saved them.

A meteor passed through the crowd. There was a tremendous pressure, and convicts fell in heaps from the platform, leaving sufficient room for Chéri-Bibi’s immense fists to have full play and to let fly with the force of catapults.

Oh, he was always a brave sight in battle was the terrible Chéri-Bibi! What a number of broken noses, torn ears, black eyes! What bloodshed and shouts and maledictions! But what a splendidly quick clearance. How they applauded him. All the men who were unable to get near the platform, and had abandoned hope of receiving any share in the spoils, cheered him to the echo.... And the casualties crawling along the deck were turned into a general laughing-stock. And convicts know how to laugh.

Chéri-Bibi called for silence. He was standing on the evacuated platform in front of the three terrified and trembling women, who hardly ventured to thank their deliverer. For, after all, what was he about to say? To what new torment were they to be doomed?

“My dear pals,” said Chéri-Bibi, “I have been thinking things over. As these women can’t belong to all of you, they shan’t belong to anyone (_thunders of applause_). I shall keep them for myself ... (_silence_) with the sole object of preventing any harm coming to them ... (_murmurs_) for I have just pledged myself to land them and the castaways from the _Belle of Dieppe_ safe and sound at a time and place which will be fixed at the next conference (_threatening demonstrations. Chéri-Bibi folds his arms_). Who dares to raise his voice when I am speaking? The idiots among you do well to keep their mouths shut, for I have serious things to say to them. We must turn over a new leaf. You must become men of character, self-possessed and steady, because you are rich. The Marquis du Touchais, whom we have had the honor of welcoming on board, agrees, in accordance with my suggestion, to ransom the persons saved from the _Belle of Dieppe_ for a sum of five million francs.”

At first there was a feeling of stupefaction, not unmingled with fear, before this yawning gulf ... five million francs.... They were dazed. And then they came to themselves and understood, and they burst forth into yells and stamped their feet and danced about like madmen.... They wanted to carry Chéri-Bibi shoulder high. He had the greatest difficulty in saying a word, a word to close the mouths of those fatuous imbeciles who never understood anything.

“My pals,” he cried, “one last word. It is understood that the Marquis will not be released until we receive the five million francs. It is five million francs, or death” (_tremendous applause_).

“Well, Dodger, what do you think of that?” asked Little Buddha, as he dealt a heavy but friendly blow on the baker man’s shoulder, making him wince.

“I know my Chéri-Bibi,” replied the Dodger, with a faint smile. “It will be five millions _and_ death.”