The water from the bath-house had been defiled. They rammed their big poles deep into the slime; clouds of mud arose; bubbles arose and burst; leaning over the edges, they breathed in the pestilential smells, but without alarm; they laughed because they were already sick. They again put on their damp tunics and, chilled, drew comfort from the illusion that their bodies had been revitalized. But in the evening their fever underwent a radical change; they ceased laughing; they were overcome by torpor, and each of them flung himself on the grass-covered lawn and thought only of himself.…

On the island were flowers whose bruised corollas discharged a scent like that from a glacial mint. From these plants that grew in the sands they gathered flowering branches, and the petals which they masticated all day long were delightfully refreshing to their dry eyes when placed on their hot eyelids. A soothing sensation permeated their cheeks, penetrated their brains and prompted torpid dreams. They dozed like fakirs. As soon as they ceased their chewing, soothing changed to burning, as happens in the case of sweet-smelling spices or herbs with a peppery flavor. Thirsty, they drank from metal goblets water tinged with tart gooseberry juice. They stopped chewing only to drink.

When their tunics parted and exposed their chests, under their arms, near their breasts, could be seen a purplish bruised spot where the malady had its seat; sometimes their bodies were completely covered with violet drops of sweat. All twelve of us remained silent, too solemn even to cry, and watched our companions die.

Oh! the terrible part was the arrival of the men; they all came down from the plateaus hoping to find women emboldened by desire whom they could infect with the sickness. They came running, hideous, livid; but when they saw that the women were so pale and understood why, they were terrified and ran through the town shouting. Some women still desired them; and as the certainty of death restored in them a sinister boldness, the men and women embraced furiously. They sucked in all the joy they could with a thirst, a mania, a sort of frenzy that struck us dumb with terror; it seemed that they were trying in this way to eliminate the time of remorse. And other women sobbed because they had arrived too late.*

A light wind arose, forced the heavy smoke from the volcanoes back toward the town, and drenched them with gray ashes. Exhausted, they had parted to vomit. Now they were rolling confusedly on the grass, and their entrails were making hideous attempts to come out. So they died, crumpled, twisted, hideous, already decomposed; and silence fell upon the town.

Then clouds appeared; a cold rain toward morning finished glazing their souls and covered them with a muddy shroud formed by water and the ashes.

And we thought of great sails, of departure; but having hoped in vain for so long and under such monotonous circumstances, now that nothing prevented us from departing, we felt so tired, so upset, so concerned over the solemnity of our tasks, so exhausted by everything, that for twelve more days we remained on the big island, sitting on the beach and facing the sea, speechless, pensive, aware of the uncertainty and superfluity of our whims.

And what really made us depart was the unbearable stench of the corpses.

* From his Journals we learn that Gide had periods of happy productivity but seemed during periods of demoralization to draw comfort from the recording of sad events.

SARGASSO SEA

Sargasso Sea; tearful dawn and cheerless flashed on the gray water. Certainly, if I had been able to choose, I would not have rowed toward those latitudes. Boredom! Why say it? One who has not known it will not understand it: one who has known it asks not to be reminded of it. Boredom! Dismal contemplations of the soul, when forbidden splendors and illuminations depart, you claim us. Scintillations have ceased, temptations flee; nothing concerns us now, except ourselves, our disenchanted dawns.

The ashes of twilight fall on faded suns, and the mists of boredom on great surgings of desire.

Psychology! Psychology! Science of the soul and all its vanity, which the soul attributes to you! Ashen fruits which we might have consumed; desires that might have stained our gums. Oh, temptations which we once deplored and dreaded. Desires! At least when we resisted you, our souls were not idle; we did not yield; we hoped that temptations would go away, and now that they have, boredom spreads endlessly across the gray sea!

Gelatinous fucuses uncoil on the thick sea. Infinitely long strands of algae float on the surface and stretch sinuously toward the horizon; we thought at first on seeing them at dawn that they were reptiles but they were not; there was nothing in the distance except these long, docile algae.

We looked at the compass, and our waning faith allowed our bleak knowledge to increase. On charting our latitude, we saw that we had reached that point which sailors call “The Trap” because the oleaginous sea is so calm.

The sea in spots was a mass of algae, and soon we were sailing between two long lines of sargassum; far apart and loose at first, they began to coagulate; gradually they drew together, and in the ever narrowing channel of free water that separated them, the Orion became a felucca. Soon the long spirals of fucuses gave way to thick tangles of soft leaves and a viscous, vegetable substance, barely penetrable, soon seemed to swell and rose slightly above the water in shallow places, where it formed low, slimy mountains. The channel undulated between their curves.

On the third day appeared the first fluvial plants; the felucca was moving slowly up a placid tributary.

On the fourth day smoke-colored herons hunted for worms in the mud on the shores; behind them lay a level sward. At night clouds caught in the pale light of the dying day were reflected in the river which, because of the shadows that obscured its banks, seemed to flow in a straight line; the oars became tangled in the reeds alongside the felucca as it went around the bends.

On the seventh day we met my dear Ellis who was waiting for us under an apple tree on the sward. She had been there for fourteen days, having arrived by land sooner than we; she wore a polka dot dress and carried a cherry-colored parasol; beside her was a vanity case containing toilet articles and a few books; on her arm was a Scottish shawl; she was eating an escarole salad and reading Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysic. * We had her climb into the boat.

Our reunion was rather dull, and since we were accustomed to discussing only what we both knew about and had followed different routes, we found nothing to say.