The Dedalus Book of French Horror: The 19th Century Read Online Free PDF

fear?’
    Claude stepped forward bravely and held out his hand to the great chief.
    At this display of friendship and familiarity, which the autocrat of Hatouhouhou had never before experienced, the latter gave vent to a tremendous high-pitched shriek of such anger and wrath that Belissan leapt into the air.
    But his surprise gave way to terror when the great chief, by means of an expressive pantomime, pointed out to the clerk his epaulettes, his Cross of Saint-Louis, and some old pieces of copper attached to his legs with string, the implication clearly being that he was the chief, king, master and that Belissan owed him his respect, submission and obedience, which he further demonstrated by half-bending his knees and crossing his arms over his stomach. The lesson concluded with a fearful twirling of the rifle which whizzed around Belissan’s ears, such was the dexterity of the savage in wielding his weapon.
    And Belissan fell to his knees bathed in sweat. What a bizarre picture this formed, this athletic savage, with his face painted half in red and half in blue, his gleaming eyes, his swollen lips, his teeth blackened with betel, his gold epaulettes, his crinkly hair, brushed, knotted, pleated and all covered in an orange powder sprinkled with shells of every colour, what an imposing figure he was as he stood there, his head scornfully cocked, taking stock of the naked Belissan, trembling with fear, green with terror, kneeling, arms crossed and eyes fixed before him.
    One would need to be a profound psychologist to be able to analyse the tumultuous thoughts flying around Belissan’s head, colliding with each other, locked in mortal combat: the clerk’s former ideas pitted against the incontestable evidence of his situation. And for what felt like an eternity, Belissan reproached himself bitterly, realising that he preferred to be splashed with mud by Danish horses, suffer the sarcasms of the handsome footman, and be the butt of Catherine’s coquetry, rather than to depend on the unpredictable humour of his friend, brother, and equal: the man of nature.
    But what irritated him more than anything was not that he had been forced to prostrate himself before a symbol of power but to see that this symbol was enshrined in an old European tunic which reminded him so poignantly of the social distinctions which he had sought to flee.
    It is impossible to say to what speculative heights Belissan would have soared had not Toa-ka-Magarow signalled him to rise, reinforcing the order by jabbing him in the kidneys with the butt of his rifle.
    The two equals before nature arrived in the village.
    And if Belissan still had the force to close his jaw, he would undoubtedly have ground his teeth at the sight of one particular hut, a brightly-painted hut which was built on a slight elevation; in short, a hut clearly distinguishable from the rest as an aristocratic hut, a seigniorial hut, a princely hut, a royal hut.
    This was the hut of Toa-ka-Magarow.
    And Claude Belissan, still walking in front of the man of nature, climbed down into a sort of little cellar close by the chief’s habitation.
    Claude Belissan was held prisoner in this cellar.
    For the next week, Claude’s only company was some sort of bamboo cane to which a wicker-basket was attached containing coconuts and the produce of the bread-fruit tree. This bamboo entered and departed by a small window.
    During this week, his social and political ideas went through a number of changes. But these changes should remain private, and we shall remain discreet on this point.
    At the end of a week, Belissan was dragged from the cellar, bathed, perfumed, tattooed, his nose and ears were squeezed, beads of every colour were placed around his forehead, he was made to lie on a sort of stretcher, and two of Toa-ka-Magarow’s strongest subjects carried him to the top of a mountain where a temple of reeds had been built.
    ‘They intend either to canonise me or play blindman’s bluff,’