The Story of Ida Pfeiffer | Page 6

but no corn, no potatoes, and none of our
delightful varieties of fruit. The flour of manioc, obtained from the
cassava plant, which forms a staple portion of almost every dish,
supplies the place of bread, but is far from being so nutritious and
strengthening; while the different kinds of sweet-tasting roots are far
inferior in value to our potato. The only fruit which Madame Pfeiffer
thought really excellent, were the oranges, bananas, and mangoes. The
pine-apples are neither very sweet nor very fragrant. And with regard to
two most important articles of consumption, the milk is very watery,
and the meat very dry.

* * * * *
Our traveller, during her sojourn at Rio Janeiro, made many interesting
excursions in the neighbourhood. One was directed to Petropolis, a
colony founded by Germans in the heart of scenery of the most
exquisite character. Accompanied by Count Berchthold, she sailed for
Porto d'Estrella in one of the regular coasting barks. Their course
carried them across a bay remarkable for its picturesque views. It lies
calmly in the embrace of richly-wooded hills, and is studded with
islands, like a silver shield with emerald bosses. Some of these islands
are completely overgrown with palms, while others are masses of huge
rock, with a carpet of green turf.
Their bark was manned by four negroes and a white skipper. At first
they ran merrily before a favourable wind, but in two hours the crew
were compelled to take to the oars, the method of using which was
exceedingly fatiguing. At each dip of the oar, the rower mounts upon a
bench in front of him, and then, during the stroke, throws himself off
again, with his full force. In two hours more they passed into the river
Geromerino, and made their way through a world of beautiful aquatic
plants which covered the tranquil waters in every direction. The river
banks are flat, and fringed with underwood and young trees; the
background is formed by ranges of low green hills.
At Porto d'Estrella, Madame Pfeiffer and her companion landed, and
proceeded on foot towards Petropolis. The first eight miles lay through
a broad valley, clothed with dense brambles and young trees, and
shadowed by lofty mountains. The wild pine-apples by the roadside
were very fair to see; they were not quite ripe, but tinted of the most
delicate red. Beautiful humming-birds flashed through the air like
"winged jewels," and studded the dense foliage with points of
many-coloured light.
After passing through the valley, they reached the Sierra, as the
Brazilians term the practicable mountain-summits. It was three
thousand feet in height, and was ascended by a broad paved road,
striking through the depths of virgin forests.

Madame Pfeiffer had always imagined that the trees in virgin forests
had very thick and lofty trunks; but such was not the case here;
probably because the vegetation was too luxuriant, and the larger trunks
have the life crushed out of them by masses of smaller trees, bushes,
creepers, and parasites.
Frequent truppas, or teams of ten mules driven by a negro, as well as
numerous pedestrians, enlivened the path, and prevented our travellers
from observing that their steps were persistently followed up by a
negro. When, however, they arrived at a somewhat lonely spot, this
negro suddenly sprang forward, holding a lasso in one hand and a long
knife in the other, and with threatening gestures gave them to
understand that he intended to murder them, and then drag their dead
bodies into the forest!
The travellers were without arms, having been told the road was
perfectly safe; their only weapons were their umbrellas, with the
exception of a clasp-knife. This the brave woman drew from her pocket
and opened, in the calm resolution to sell her life as dearly as possible.
With their umbrellas they parried their adversary's blows as long as
they could; but he caught hold of Madame Ida's, which snapped off,
leaving only a piece of the handle in her hand. In the struggle, however,
he dropped his knife, which rolled a few steps away from him. Madame
Ida immediately made a dash at it, and thought she had secured it; but,
quicker in his movements than she was, he thrust her away with his
hands and feet, and once more obtained possession of it. Waving it
furiously over his head, he slashed her twice in the upper part of the left
arm. All seemed lost; but in her extreme peril the brave lady bethought
her of her own knife, and struck at her adversary, wounding him in the
hand. At the same moment Count Berchthold sprang forward, and
while he seized the villain with both arms, Madame Ida Pfeiffer
recovered her feet. All this took place in less than a minute. The negro
was