La
Guiablesse.
197
À
t é m o i n k a d ô m i toute l o n g u e ; Y o n r o b e biésé sé fai m o i n b i e n , Doudoux ! À t é m o i n ka d ô m i toute l o n g u e ; D è j o l i s f o u l a sé fai m o i n b i e n , Doudoux! À t é m o i n ka d o m i toute longue ; Y o n joli madras sé fai m o i n b i e n , Doudoux ! À t é m o i n ka d o m i toute l o n g u e : Ç é à tè . . . "
. . . Obliged from the first to lengthen his stride in order to keep up with her, Fafa has found his utmost powers of walking overtaxed, and has been left behind. Already his thin attire is saturated with sweat ; his breathing is almost a panting ;—yet the black bronze of his companion's skin shows no moisture ; her rhythmic step, her silent respiration, reveal no effort : she laughs at his desperate straining to remain by her side. — " M a r c h é toujou' deïé moin,—anh, chè ? — marché toujou' deie !" . . . And the involuntary laggard—utterly bewitched by the supple allurement of her motion, by the black flame of her gaze, by the savage melody of her chant—wonders more and more who she may be, while she waits for him with her mocking smile. But Gabou—who has been following and watching from afar off, and sounding his fruitless ouklé betimes— suddenly starts, halts, turns, and hurries back, fearfully crossing himself at every step. He has seen the sign by which She is known. . . .