Prisoners of Chance - Page 165/233

It is occasion for deep regret that I was so blind to my opportunities for learning much relative to this strange people. During those hours of trial my thoughts were so occupied with our own dangers, it was merely incidentally I considered anything else. No small temptation now assails me to record many things I believe true, things I remember vaguely; but I pass the temptation by, determined to write only what I may vouch for as of my own observation.

I remained silent, leaning against the wall and making vigorous use of my pipe, a long time after De Noyan fell peacefully asleep. While the fast fading daylight clung dimly to the interior, my eyes were fastened upon his upturned face, almost boyish in the unconsciousness of repose, and I began to feel pity for his weakness, my anger against him fading away. As the darkness became pronounced I remained there still, my sleepless eyes paying small heed to night, the scenes I saw being of the brain, memory awakening to paint with glowing colors across the black screen. The evening was quiet,--within, no more was heard than the regular breathing of my companion; without, an occasional savage outcry, mingled with the low moaning of the night wind.

It became a lonely vigil, my thoughts unhappy. I had much to reflect upon. The extreme difficulty of our present situation, encompassed and separated as we were: De Noyan was bewitched by a siren who had already bound him by silken cords to any nefarious scheme her unscrupulous desires might compass; Cairnes was as helplessly entangled in her power, although held to his fate by ropes of a different nature; while Madame was scarcely less a prisoner, powerless to escape the ruthless grasp of a false-hearted woman whose jealousy might at any instant lead to measures of extremity. I alone of all our little company remained somewhat my own master. My hands and heart at least were free from all visible bonds. Yet what hideous mockery was such freedom! I realized that I could venture no step beyond the door of the lodge without becoming the focus of spying eyes; that all about was evidence of the despotic power of this renegade white queen, who deigned to spare me merely because she deemed I was utterly powerless to interfere with her cruel purposes. Saint Andrew! it was an environment of evil to chill the blood of any man, nor amid its gathering gloom could I distinguish any gleam promising dawn. About us watched impatiently a horde of ruthless savages, eager to make us victims of their torture, held back temporarily only by the imperious will of this self-styled "Daughter of the Sun," who ruled through appeal to their grossest superstitions. She, I believed, in spite of fair face and evidences of culture, was as vindictive, barbarous, and relentless as the wildest in that savage band.