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Updated: June 4, 2025
Meeus, catching the other's eye, motioned to him to come near. Then he tried to speak, but the roar outside made it impossible to hear him. Adams pointed to the roof, as if to say, "Wait till it is over," then he came back to the sitting room, tore the leopard skin down from the wall, rolled it up for a pillow, and lay down with his head on it.
"Two hundred chicotte," cried Meeus, and like the echo of his words came the first dull, coughing blow. The villagers shrieked and cried altogether at each blow, but the victim, after the shriek which followed the first blow, was dumb.
He ought to have been mad by this, thought Adams; and he was a judge, for he had studied madness and its causes. But Meeus was not mad in the least particular. He was coldly sane. Lust had saved his reason, the lust inspired by Matabiche.
The awful man at the table was beginning to work himself up. He had risen at the second question, and at the third time of asking he seized Meeus by the shoulders. "Did you kill those people ?" "Punishment," stuttered Meeus. A cry like the cry of a woman and a crash that shook the plaster from the ceiling, followed the fatal word.
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