"He who travels far courts many kinds of death," replied Monsieur Maurice; "but he escapes that which is worst--death from ennui."
"Suppose they had dragged you back, when you were half way up the bank!" said I, shuddering.
And as I spoke, I felt myself turn pale; for I could see the brown monsters crowding to shore, and the red glitter of their cruel eyes and the hot breath steaming from their open jaws.
"Then they would have eaten me up as easily as you might swallow an oyster," laughed Monsieur Maurice. "Nay, my child, why that serious face? I should have escaped a world of trouble, and been missed by no one--except poor Ali."
"Ali was my Nubian servant--my only friend, then; as you, little Gretchen, are my only friend, now," replied Monsieur Maurice, sadly. "Aye, my only little friend in the wide world--and I think a true one."
I did not know what to say; but I nestled closer to his side; and pressed my cheek up fondly against his shoulder.
"Tell me more about him, Monsieur Maurice," I whispered. "I am so glad he loved you dearly."
"He loved me very dearly," said Monsieur Maurice, "so dearly that he gave his life for me."
"Ay--Ali is dead. Nay, his story is brief enough, petite. I bought him in the slave market at Cairo--a poor, sickly, soulless lad, half stupid from ill-treatment. I gave him good food, good clothes, and liberty. I taught him to read. I made him my own servant; and his soul and his strength came back to him as if by a miracle. He became stalwart and intelligent, and so faithful that he was ten times more my slave than if I had held him to his bondage. I took him with me through all my Eastern pilgrimage. He was my body-guard; my cook; my dragoman; everything. He slept on a mat at the foot of my bed every night, like a dog. So he lived with me for nearly four years--till I lost him."
I did not dare to ask, "what more?" but waited breathlessly.
"The rest is soon told," he said presently; but in an altered voice. "It happened in Ceylon. Our way lay along a bridle-path overhanging a steep gorge on the one hand and skirting the jungle on the other. Do you know what the jungle is, little Gretchen? Fancy an untrodden wilderness where huge trees, matted together by trailing creepers of gigantic size, shut out the sun and make a green roof of inextricable shade--where the very grass grows taller than the tallest man--where apes chatter, and parrots scream, and deadly reptiles swarm; and where nature has run wild since ever the world began. Well, so we went--I on my horse; Ali at my bridle; two porters following with food and baggage; the precipice below; the forest above; the morning sun just risen over all. On a sudden, Ali held his breath and listened. His practised ear had caught a sound that mine could not detect. He seized my rein--forced my horse back upon his haunches--drew his hunting knife, and ran forward to reconnoitre. The turn of the road hid him for a moment from my sight. The next instant, I had sprung from the saddle, pistol in hand, and run after him to share the sport or the danger. My little Gretchen--he was gone."