Chapter V

... She approaches the ajoupa: both men remove their big straw hats; and both salute her with a simultaneous "Bonjou', Manzell."

--"Bonjou', Missié," she responds, in a sonorous alto, without appearing to notice Gabou,--but smiling upon Fafa as she passes, with her great eyes turned full upon his face.... All the libertine blood of the man flames under that look;--he feels as if momentarily wrapped in a blaze of black lightning.

--"Ça ka fai moin pè," exclaims Gabou, turning his face towards the ajoupa. Something indefinable in the gaze of the stranger has terrified him.

--"_Pa ka fai moin pè--fouinq!_" (She does not make me afraid) laughs Fafa, boldly following her with a smiling swagger.

--"Fafa!" cries Gabou, in alarm. "_Fafa, pa ça!_"

But Fafa does not heed. The strange woman has slackened her pace, as if inviting pursuit;--another moment and he is at her side.

--"Oti ou ka rété, chè?" he demands, with the boldness of one who knows himself a fine specimen of his race.

--"Zaffai cabritt pa zaffai lapin," she answers, mockingly.

--"Mais pouki ou rhabillé toutt noué conm ça."

--"Moin pòté deil pou name moin mò."

--"Ale ya yaïe!... Non, voué!--ça ou kallé atouèlement?"

--"Lanmou pàti: moin pàti delé lanmou."

--"Ho!--ou ni guêpe, anh?"

--"Zanoli bail yon bal; épi maboya rentré ladans."

--"Di moin oti ou kallé, doudoux?"

--"Jouq lariviè Lezà."

--"Fouinq!--ni plis passé trente kilomett!"

--"Eh ben?--ess ou 'lè vini épi moin?"[16]

And as she puts the question she stands still and gazes at him;--her voice is no longer mocking: it has taken another tone,--a tone soft as the long golden note of the little brown bird they call the _siffleur-de-montagne_, the mountain-whistler.... Yet Fafa hesitates. He hears the clear clang of the plantation bell recalling him to duty;--he sees far down the road--(_Ouill!_ how fast they have been walking!)--a white and black speck in the sun: Gabou, uttering through his joined hollowed hands, as through a horn, the _ouklé_, the rally call. For an instant he thinks of the overseer's anger,--of the distance,--of the white road glaring in the dead heat: then he looks again into the black eyes of the strange woman, and answers:

--"Oui;--moin ké vini épi ou."

With a burst of mischievous laughter, in which Fafa joins, she walks on,--Fafa striding at her side.... And Gabou, far off, watches them go,--and wonders that, for the first time since ever they worked together, his comrade failed to answer his _ouklé._

--"Coument yo ka crié ou, chè?" asks Fafa, curious to know her name.

--"Châché nom moin ou-menm, duviné."

But Fafa never was a good guesser,--never could guess the simplest of tim-tim.

--"Ess Cendrine?"

--"Non, çé pa ça."

--"Ess Vitaline?"

--"Non, çé pa ça."

--"Ess Aza?"

--"Non, çé pa ça."

--"Ess Nini?"

--"Chaché encò."

--"Ess Tité?"

--"Ou pa save,--tant pis pou ou!"

--"Ess Youma?"

--"Pouki ou 'lè save nom moin?--ça ou ké fai épi y?"

--"Ess Yaiya?"

--"Non, çé pa y."

--"Ess Maiyotte?"

--"Non! ou pa ké janmain trouvé y!"

--"Ess Sounoune?--ess Loulouze?"

She does not answer, but quickens her pace and begins to sing,--not as the half-breed, but as the African sings,--commencing with a low long weird intonation that suddenly breaks into fractions of notes inexpressible, then rising all at once to a liquid purling bird-tone, and descending as abruptly again to the first deep quavering strain:--

"À tè-- moin ka dòmi toute longue; Yon paillasse sé fai moin bien, Doudoux!

À tè-- moin ka dòmi toute longue; Yon robe biésé sé fai moin bien, Doudoux!

À tè-- moin ka dòmi toute longue; Dè jolis foulà sé fai moin bien, Doudoux!

À tè-- moin ka dòmi toute longue; Yon joli madras sé fai moin bien, Doudoux!

À tè-- moin ka dòmi toute longue: Çé à tè..."

... Obliged from the first to lengthen his stride in order to keep up with her, Fafa has found his utmost powers of walking overtaxed, and has been left behind. Already his thin attire is saturated with sweat; his breathing is almost a panting;--yet the black bronze of his companion's skin shows no moisture; her rhythmic step, her silent respiration, reveal no effort: she laughs at his desperate straining to remain by her side.

--"Marché toujou' deïé moin,--anh, chè?--marché toujou' deïé!"...

And the involuntary laggard--utterly bewitched by the supple allurement of her motion, by the black flame of her gaze, by the savage melody of her chant--wonders more and more who she may be, while she waits for him with her mocking smile.

But Gabou--who has been following and watching from afar off, and sounding his fruitless ouklé betimes--suddenly starts, halts, turns, and hurries back, fearfully crossing himself at every step.

He has seen the sign by which She is known....

[Footnote 16:--"Where dost stay, dear?"

--"Affaire of the goat are not affaire of the rabbit."

--"But why art thou dressed all in black thus?"

--"I wear mourning for my dead soul."

--"_Aïe ya yaïe!_... No, true!... where art thou going now?"

--"Love is gone: I go after love."

--"Ho! thou hast a Wasp [lover]--eh?"

--"The zanoli gives a ball; the maboya enters unasked."

--"Tell me where thou art going, sweetheart?"

--"As far as the River of the Lizard."

--"_Fouinq!_--there are more than thirty kilometres!"

--"What of that?--do t thou want to come with me?"]

VI

... None ever saw her by night. Her hour is the fulness of the sun's flood-tide: she comes in the dead hush and white flame of windless noons,--when colors appear to take a very unearthliness of intensity,--when even the flash of some colibri, bosomed with living fire, shooting hither and thither among the grenadilla blossoms, seemeth a spectral happening because of the great green trance of the land....

Mostly she haunts the mountain roads, winding from plantation to plantation, from hamlet to hamlet,--sometimes dominating huge sweeps of azure sea, sometimes shadowed by mornes deep-wooded to the sky. But close to the great towns she sometimes walks: she has been seen at mid-day upon the highway which overlooks the Cemetery of the Anchorage, behind the cathedral of St. Pierre.... A black Woman, simply clad, of lofty stature and strange beauty, silently standing in the light, _keeping her eyes fixed upon the Sun!_...