or figures of men and women
cut out of whole wood. For the rest, those magicians were not less
mutilated than the other courtiers, and doubtless the monarch paid
them in this way for the cures that did not succeed.

The instrumentalists, men or women, made sharp rattles whizz, noisy
drums sound or shudder under small sticks terminated by a caoutchouc
ball, "marimehas," kinds of dulcimers formed of two rows of gourds of
various dimensions--the whole very deafening for any one who does not
possess a pair of African ears.

Above this crowd, which composed the royal cortege, waved some flags
and standards, then at the ends of spears the bleached skulls of the
rival chiefs whom Moini Loungga had vanquished.

When the king had quitted his palanquin, acclamations burst forth from
all sides. The soldiers of the caravan discharged their old guns, the
low detonations of which were but little louder than the vociferations
of the crowd. The overseers, after rubbing their black noses with
cinnabar powder, which they carried in a sack, bowed to the ground.
Then Alvez, advancing in his turn, handed the king a supply of fresh
tobacco--"soothing herb," as they call it in the country. Moini
Loungga had great need of being soothed, for he was, they did not know
why, in a very bad humor.

At the same time Alvez, Coimbra, Ibn Hamis, and the Arab traders,
or mongrels, came to pay their court to the powerful sovereign of
Kazounde. "Marhaba," said the Arabs, which is their word of welcome in
the language of Central Africa. Others clapped their hands and bowed
to the ground. Some daubed themselves with mud, and gave signs of the
greatest servility to this hideous majesty.

Moini Loungga hardly looked at all these people, and walked, keeping
his limbs apart, as if the ground were rolling and pitching. He walked
in this manner, or rather he rolled in the midst of waves of slaves,
and if the traders feared that he might take a notion to apportion
some of the prisoners to himself, the latter would no less dread
falling into the power of such a brute.

Negoro had not left Alvez for a moment, and in his company presented
his homage to the king. Both conversed in the native language, if,
however, that word "converse" can be used of a conversation in which
Moini Loungga only took part by monosyllables that hardly found a
passage through his drunken lips. And still, did he not ask his
friend, Alvez, to renew his supply of brandy just exhausted by