A Passion in the Desert | Page 5

He shook some of it down. When he tasted this
unhoped-for manna, he felt sure that the palms had been cultivated by a
former inhabitant--the savory, fresh meat of the dates were proof of the
care of his predecessor. He passed suddenly from dark despair to an
almost insane joy. He went up again to the top of the hill, and spent the
rest of the day in cutting down one of the sterile palm trees, which the
night before had served him for shelter. A vague memory made him
think of the animals of the desert; and in case they might come to drink
at the spring, visible from the base of the rocks but lost further down,
he resolved to guard himself from their visits by placing a barrier at the
entrance of his hermitage.
In spite of his diligence, and the strength which the fear of being
devoured asleep gave him, he was unable to cut the palm in pieces,
though he succeeded in cutting it down. At eventide the king of the
desert fell; the sound of its fall resounded far and wide, like a sigh in
the solitude; the soldier shuddered as though he had heard some voice
predicting woe.
But like an heir who does not long bewail a deceased relative, he tore
off from this beautiful tree the tall broad green leaves which are its
poetic adornment, and used them to mend the mat on which he was to
sleep.
Fatigued by the heat and his work, he fell asleep under the red curtains
of his wet cave.
In the middle of the night his sleep was troubled by an extraordinary
noise; he sat up, and the deep silence around allowed him to distinguish
the alternative accents of a respiration whose savage energy could not
belong to a human creature.
A profound terror, increased still further by the darkness, the silence,
and his waking images, froze his heart within him. He almost felt his
hair stand on end, when by straining his eyes to their utmost he
perceived through the shadow two faint yellow lights. At first he
attributed these lights to the reflections of his own pupils, but soon the
vivid brilliance of the night aided him gradually to distinguish the

objects around him in the cave, and he beheld a huge animal lying but
two steps from him. Was it a lion, a tiger, or a crocodile?
The Provencal was not sufficiently educated to know under what
species his enemy ought to be classed; but his fright was all the greater,
as his ignorance led him to imagine all terrors at once; he endured a
cruel torture, noting every variation of the breathing close to him
without daring to make the slightest movement. An odor, pungent like
that of a fox, but more penetrating, more profound,--so to speak,-- filled
the cave, and when the Provencal became sensible of this, his terror
reached its height, for he could no longer doubt the proximity of a
terrible companion, whose royal dwelling served him for a shelter.
Presently the reflection of the moon descending on the horizon lit up
the den, rendering gradually visible and resplendent the spotted skin of
a panther.
This lion of Egypt slept, curled up like a big dog, the peaceful
possessor of a sumptuous niche at the gate of an hotel; its eyes opened
for a moment and closed again; its face was turned towards the man. A
thousand confused thoughts passed through the Frenchman's mind; first
he thought of killing it with a bullet from his gun, but he saw there was
not enough distance between them for him to take proper aim --the shot
would miss the mark. And if it were to wake!--the thought made his
limbs rigid. He listened to his own heart beating in the midst of the
silence, and cursed the too violent pulsations which the flow of blood
brought on, fearing to disturb that sleep which allowed him time to
think of some means of escape.
Twice he placed his hand on his scimiter, intending to cut off the head
of his enemy; but the difficulty of cutting the stiff short hair compelled
him to abandon this daring project. To miss would be to die for
CERTAIN, he thought; he preferred the chances of fair fight, and made
up his mind to wait till morning; the morning did not leave him long to
wait.
He could now examine the panther at ease; its muzzle was smeared
with blood.
"She's had a good dinner," he thought, without troubling himself as to
whether her feast might have been on human flesh. "She won't be
hungry when she gets up."
It was a female. The fur on her belly and flanks was glistening white;

many small marks