Kondjé-Gul was shut up in her room; I found her sitting on her bed,
which was disarranged, and the pillows of which seemed to have been
rumpled up in a fit of rage and despair; she appeared like one
stupified, with her gloomy looks, and hands clasping her knees. Her face
and her neck bore the marks of Hadidjé's nails. The kohl from under
her eyes had been smeared on her cheeks, which were smudged all over;
she looked just like a little savage, with however the gracefulness of a
child.

She did not stir when I came in; I walked right up to her, and in the
solemn tone of a judge, said-"Wretched girl, do you know what you have done?"

She remained silent and motionless, fixing her eyes on the carpet.

"After such an act, will you not answer?" I continued.

"Why do you love her?" she said at last, in a wild voice.

"Say, why should I love you?" I replied, "when your bad temper and
your jealousy lead you to disobedience, to crime--when you stir up
quarrels and discords among us?"

At these reproaches Kondjé-Gul all at once drew herself up erect before
me, and exclaimed passionately-"Then you do not love me any longer?"

My questions had not reached their mark.

"This is not the time for me to answer you," I said. "I am now asking
you to account for the act which you have just committed."