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And I've given him three opera hats, a phonograph, and a gallon of rum, curse the luck! What did you give him, Raguet?" "Me? I give him a umbrella with ze gold embroider," the Frenchman answered. "My government won't let me give the little kings umbrellas," said Peters in vexation. "It makes the big chiefs jealous.
If he no sign treaty, eat up his Ju-Ju," Raguet went on. A flow of language came from the king's lips. "His Majesty say, he bring his Ju-Ju, see whose greater," said the interpreter. Vaguely aware that treachery was impending, but crazed now by the falling mangoes, Peters left them palavering and followed the trail.
I've been living on crackers and canned beef for over a month, and I'm pining for jam. Have you got any jam?" "Dsham, dsham?" repeated Raguet with a puzzled expression. "Yes, les preserves le fruit et le sugar, bouilli you know what I mean." "Ah, ze preserve!" said the Frenchman, with an expression of enlightenment. "Ze preserve, I have him not."
During dinner Raguet, the trusty boy of all work, took charge of the shop; but the clerks came down when the dessert was put on table, leaving Cesar, his wife and daughter to finish their dinner alone by the chimney corner.
Cesar carefully weighed the question as to which invitations should be given in person, and which should be sent by Raguet. He ordered a coach and took his wife much disfigured by a bonnet with feathers, and his last gift, a shawl which she had coveted for fifteen years on a round of civilities. In their best array, these worthy people paid twenty-two visits in the course of one morning.
"You're a good fellow, Raguet," said Peters, wiping his face surreptitiously with the backs of his hands. When his visitor had left he turned over and sank into a half-delirious doze that lasted until the sun sank with appalling suddenness, and night rushed over the land.
The perfumer rushed headlong to the little dark staircase, as much to tell Raguet to close the shop as to pour out his excuses to Claparon for receiving him in the dining-room. "What of that? It's the very place to juggle a I mean to settle a piece of business."
We shall make a hundred thousand francs this year, for we'll pour on every head that respects itself a dozen bottles a year, eighteen francs; say eighteen thousand heads, one hundred and eighty thousand francs. We are millionaires!" The nuts delivered, Raguet, the workmen, Popinot, and Cesar shelled a sufficient quantity, and before four o'clock they had produced several pounds of oil.
Raguet, strolling into his rival's camp that evening, found Peters in his tent, flushed, and breathing heavily. "Tcht! tcht! you are seeck," said the Frenchman sympathetically. "That ees too bad. Have you quinine?" "Quinine be hanged," cried Peters huskily. "I've taken the stuff until I've floated in it. There's only one thing can cure me, Raguet.
He had seen something that brought back to him with a rush the realization of his whereabouts. Seated in the shelter of a cactus tree, not fifty yards away, was King Mtetanyanga, wearing his three opera hats, one upon another, in the form of a triple crown, and drinking his own rum with Raguet, under the shade of Raguet's umbrella. Prone at their feet crouched Tom, the interpreter.
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