A Passion in the Desert | Page 9

the
passing traveler was looking through the desert.
It was during the long hours, when he had abandoned hope, that he
amused himself with the panther. He had come to learn the different
inflections of her voice, the expressions of her eyes; he had studied the
capricious patterns of all the rosettes which marked the gold of her robe.
Mignonne was not even angry when he took hold of the tuft at the end
of her tail to count her rings, those graceful ornaments which glittered
in the sun like jewelry. It gave him pleasure to contemplate the supple,
fine outlines of her form, the whiteness of her belly, the graceful pose
of her head. But it was especially when she was playing that he felt
most pleasure in looking at her; the agility and youthful lightness of her
movements were a continual surprise to him; he wondered at the supple
way in which she jumped and climbed, washed herself and arranged
her fur, crouched down and prepared to spring. However rapid her

spring might be, however slippery the stone she was on, she would
always stop short at the word "Mignonne."
One day, in a bright midday sun, an enormous bird coursed through the
air. The man left his panther to look at his new guest; but after waiting
a moment the deserted sultana growled deeply.
"My goodness! I do believe she's jealous," he cried, seeing her eyes
become hard again; "the soul of Virginie has passed into her body;
that's certain."
The eagle disappeared into the air, while the soldier admired the curved
contour of the panther.
But there was such youth and grace in her form! she was beautiful as a
woman! the blond fur of her robe mingled well with the delicate tints of
faint white which marked her flanks.
The profuse light cast down by the sun made this living gold, these
russet markings, to burn in a way to give them an indefinable attraction.
The man and the panther looked at one another with a look full of
meaning; the coquette quivered when she felt her friend stroke her head;
her eyes flashed like lightning--then she shut them tightly.
"She has a soul," he said, looking at the stillness of this queen of the
sands, golden like them, white like them, solitary and burning like
them.

"Well," she said, "I have read your plea in favor of beasts; but how did
two so well adapted to understand each other end?"
"Ah, well! you see, they ended as all great passions do end--by a
misunderstanding. For some reason ONE suspects the other of treason;
they don't come to an explanation through pride, and quarrel and part
from sheer obstinacy."
"Yet sometimes at the best moments a single word or a look is
enough-- but anyhow go on with your story."
"It's horribly difficult, but you will understand, after what the old
villain told me over his champagne. He said--'I don't know if I hurt her,
but she turned round, as if enraged, and with her sharp teeth caught
hold of my leg--gently, I daresay; but I, thinking she would devour me,
plunged my dagger into her throat. She rolled over, giving a cry that
froze my heart; and I saw her dying, still looking at me without anger. I
would have given all the world--my cross even, which I had not got

then--to have brought her to life again. It was as though I had murdered
a real person; and the soldiers who had seen my flag, and were come to
my assistance, found me in tears.'
" 'Well sir,' he said, after a moment of silence, 'since then I have been in
war in Germany, in Spain, in Russia, in France; I've certainly carried
my carcase about a good deal, but never have I seen anything like the
desert. Ah! yes, it is very beautiful!'
" 'What did you feel there?' I asked him.
"'Oh! that can't be described, young man! Besides, I am not always
regretting my palm trees and my panther. I should have to be very
melancholy for that. In the desert, you see, there is everything and
nothing.'
" 'Yes, but explain----'
" 'Well,' he said, with an impatient gesture, 'it is God without mankind.'
"

End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of A Passion in the Desert by
Balzac

A Passion in the Desert

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