The Givreuse Enigma by J.-H. Rosny Aîné

Author:J.-H. Rosny Aîné
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Coat Press
Published: 2012-02-24T00:00:00+00:00

The day went by slowly. Men and dogs explored the region; the Grafina went out more than once herself, with her large retrievers.

That evening, Hendrik asked: “Has any trace of them been found?”

“No,” Mademoiselle de Gavres replied. “Nothing except the traces already found. Since then, they must have moved away. Perhaps it’s a trick. No one knows.”

Although there were electric lights installed there, the table was only lit by large candles; others burned in the cressets along the wall, and the light had a restful softness about it. The night slept beyond the mosquito-curtains; the palm-trees were murmuring in the gentle breeze, and the great flap of the punkah refreshed the guests.

Li-Wang and a Sumatran servant were silently serving lobsters from the Red Bay.

“I’m expecting grenades and two machine-guns,” said the Grafina. She turned to Frédéric and added: “Will you consent, Monsieur, to instruct us in their use?”

Frédéric’s face became animated; the humiliating sense of inferiority from which he had been suffering since the incident with the tigers seemed less intense. “I’m more familiar with launching grenades than the operation of a machine-gun—which, in any case, will be child’s play for you.”

“We’ll see!”

The leg of a wild boar was brought in, prepared according to an old Malay recipe, with sago, roasted nuts, raki, red pepper and cloves.

A dog growled in the darkness, then another—and all around the house, the voices of retrievers, mastiffs and basset-hounds resounded frantically. The Grafina sat up straight, listening attentively; the sound of hoof-beats became audible. Li-Wang appeared, and said in a cold voice: “It’s Jufvrouw Ruyter.”

Mademoiselle de Gavres seemed astonished, but she got to her feet and went to meet the nocturnal visitor. A few minutes went by before they saw a young woman appear, followed by their hostess. Tall and athletic, with hair as blonde as maize-straw, a bold mouth and fresh cheeks, she turned her wildly gleaming eyes to the guests. Their color changed like the shades of the ocean. Frédéric looked at her in amazement.

“Mademoiselle Suzanna Ruyter,” said the Grafina, introducing her to the French couple.

She bowed and held out her hand to Hendrik, while the servants set an extra place at the table.

The tall woman lit up. “It’s chaos!” she said. “The rivers overflowing, the ground opening up, lakes spreading in the valleys, the forests expelling their beasts and their humans…” She spoke in French because of the guests, in a soft voice with a harsh accent.

“Mademoiselle Ruyter has encountered the Carabao-Men!” said the Grafina.

“I’m not sure about that!” said Suzanna, serving herself a slice of pork. “A mass of hairy individuals attacked us furiously. My men fired into the pack, but had to retreat before the weight of numbers. Two horses were wounded.”

“When did they strike?”

“Half an hour ago.”

“They shall die!” said the Grafina. “Were any men hurt?”

“No—we were able to flee in time.” She was eating with heroic insouciance.

“Their weapons are poisoned!” Mademoiselle de Gavres continued.

Frédéric looked at each of the striking young women in turn. A dazzling sadness overwhelmed him.

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