SHIPWRECK OF THE MEDUSA. 333 
of wild purslain, to drink muddy water from a boot, to eat a 
roast cooked in smoke — who know not, in a word, how com- 
fortable it is to have it in one's power to satisfy one's appetite 
when hungry, in the burning deserts of Africa, would never 
have believed that among these half savages were several 
born on the banks of the Seine. 
Whilst these thoughts were passing across my mind, sleep 
overpowered my senses. Being awaked in the middle of the 
night, I found my portion of beef in the shoes which an old 
sailor had lent me for walking among the thorns. Although 
it was a little burned, and smelled strongly of the dish in 
which it was contained, I ate a good part of it, and gave the 
rest to my friend the sailor. That seaman, seeing I was ill, 
offered to exchange my meat for some which he had the ad- 
dress to boil in a small tin box. I prayed him to give me a 
little Avater, if he had any; and he instantly went and fetched 
some in his hat. My thirst was so great that I drank it out 
of this nasty cap without the slightest repugnance. 
A short while after, every one awoke, and again took the 
route for Senegal at an early hour. Toward ^even in the 
morning, having fallen a little behind the caravan, I saw se- 
veral Moors coming toward me, armed with lances. A young 
sailor boy, aged about twelve years, who sometimes walked 
with me, stopped and cried in great terror, " Ah ! my God, 
lady, see, the Moors are coming, and the caravan is already 
a great way before us ; if they should carry us away?" I 
told him to fear nothing, although I was really more fright- 
ened than he was. These Arabs of the desert soon came up 
to us. One of them advanced with a threatening air, and 
stopping my ass, addressed to me, in his barbarous language, 
some words which he pronounced with menacing gestures. 
My little ship-boy having made his escape, I began to weep ; 
for the Moor always prevented my ass from going forward, 
who was, perhaps, as well contented at resting a little. Flow- 
ever, from the gestures which he made, I supposed he wished 
to know whither I was going, and I cried as loud as I could, 
*'Ndar! Ndar T (Senegal! Senegal!) the only African 
words I then knew. At this the Moor let go the bridle of my 
ass, and also assisted me by making him feel the full weight 
of the pole of his lance, and then ran off to his companions, 
who were roaring and laughing. I was well content at being 
freed from my fears; and what with the word ndar, and the 
famous thump of his spear, which was doubtless intended for 
my ass, I soon rejoined the caravan. I told my parents of my 
