Robert Michael Ballantyne
The Fugitives: The Tyrant Queen of Madagascar
Chapter Eighteen.
Unexpected Deliverance and Several Surprises
At the time when Mamba started away on his expedition to Tamatave, Ravonino, as we have said, lay concealed in the forest, anxiously awaiting news from the town. At last the news came—the two white men and the negro had got involved in a row, and were in prison!
So said Laihova on entering the cave and seating himself, weary, worn, and dispirited, on a ledge of rock beside his friend, to whom he related all that had befallen.
“Give not way to despondency,” said Ravonino, though he could not smooth the lines of anxiety from his own brow. “Does not the Lord reign? Let the earth rejoice! No evil can befall unless permitted, and then it will surely work for good. Let us now consider what is to be done. But first, we will pray.”
In the gloom of the cavern the two men went down on their knees, and, in very brief but earnest sentences, made known their wants to their Creator.
“It is useless to remain here idle,” said the guide, as they resumed their seat on the ledge.
“It is useless to go into the town,” returned Laihova. “I am known now as one of those who aided Mamba to escape.”
“But I am not known—at least not in my present guise,” said Ravonino. “Have you seen Rafaravavy?”
“No; I tell you we had not been long in the town when this mischance befell.”
“Did not Mamba tell you why he has undertaken so long a journey?”
“He did not, but I can guess,” answered Laihova, with a slight smile. “The night before we left our friends in the cave in Betsilio-land I heard his mother urging him to accompany us to the capital and fetch her, if possible, a copy of the Word of God. She was joined in her persuasions by my sister Ramatoa, and you know he loves Ramatoa. I have no doubt that the two overcame his objections.”
“Do you know why he objected?” asked Ravonino.
“He said that he was afraid to quit his mother and the others at a time when she might sorely need his protection, but other motives may have influenced him.”
“If he said it he meant it,” returned the guide, with some decision, “for Mamba is open and true of heart. No doubt he had other motives, but these were secondary. God grant him success and safe deliverance from the hands of his enemies!”
“Amen!” responded Laihova.
For some time the two friends sat there in silence, meditating as to what they should do in the circumstances, for each felt that action of some sort was absolutely necessary.
“My friend,” said the guide at last, “it seems to me that the Lord requires me at this time to go with my life in my hand, and give it to Him if need be. I have led these Englishmen into danger. I must do my best to succour them. Rafaravavy also is in great danger of losing her life—for the Queen’s fondness for her may not last through the opposition to her will which she is sure to meet with. At all risks I will enter the town and try to meet with Rafaravavy. But you, my friend, have no need to run so great a risk. The Englishmen have no claim upon you. My sister Ra-Ruth, as well as the other banished ones, need your arm to defend them, all the more that Mamba has left for a time. I counsel you to return to the Betsilio country and leave me. There is no fear. I am in the hands of God.”
For a few moments Laihova was silent. Then he spoke, slowly. “No. I will not leave you. Are not our friends also in the hands of God? For them, too, there is no fear. At present they are far from danger and in safe hiding, for even the outlaws—the robbers who infest the forests—understand something of their case; they have sympathy and will not molest them. Besides all that, Ravoninohitriniony, is there not the Blood-covenant between you and me? No, I will not leave you! Where you go I will go, and if you die I will not live!”
Seeing that his friend’s mind was made up, the guide made no further effort to influence him, and both men prepared themselves to go to the city.
We return now to our friends Mark Breezy, John Hockins, and James Ginger, whom we left in the act of quitting their prison after being the means of obtaining some extension of mercy to an unfortunate sufferer whom they left behind them there.
The Interpreter led them up several steep streets, and finally brought them to a court-yard in which were several small houses. Into one of these he ushered them, having previously pointed out to them that the building occupied a prominent position not far from the great palace of the Queen.
“So—if you out goes—git losted—know how to finds you’self agin!”
“Das so,” said Ebony. “You’s a clibber man.”
“Now you stop,” continued the Interpreter, paying no attention to the remark, “for git some—some—vik—vik—vikles—eh?”
“Vikles!” repeated Mark, with a puzzled air.
“Yis—yis—vikles,” repeated the Interpreter, nodding his head, smiling, opening his mouth very wide, and pointing to it.
“P’r’aps he means victuals,” suggested Hockins.
“Yis—yis—jus’ so—vittles,” cried the Interpreter, eagerly, “wait for vittles. Now—good-boy—by-by!” he added, with a broad grin at his blunder, as he left the room and shut the door.
The three friends stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds in silence, looked at each other, and smiled dubiously.
“Let’s see if we really are free to go and come as we choose,” said Mark, suddenly stepping to the door and trying it. Sure enough it was open. They passed out and went a short distance along the street, in which only a few natives were moving about. These, strange to say, instead of gazing at them in idle curiosity, seemed to regard them with some show of respect.
“Hold on, sir,” said Hockins, coming to an abrupt halt, “you know that feller told us to wait for victuals, and I am uncommon disposed for them victuals; for, to say truth, the trifle of rice they gave us this mornin’ was barely enough to satisfy an average rat. Better come back an’ do as we’re bid. Obedience, you know, is the first law of natur’.”
“Das w’at I says too. Wait for de wittles.”
“Agreed,” said Mark, turning on his heel.
On reaching the house they found that two slaves had already begun preparations for the hoped-for feast. In a few minutes they had spread on the mat floor several dishes containing rice, mingled with bits of chicken and other meats, the smell of which was exceedingly appetising. There was plain beef also, and fowls, and cooked vegetables, and fruits of various kinds, some of which were familiar to them, but others were quite new.
Slaves being present, our three travellers did not give full and free expression to their feelings; but it was evident from the way that Hockins smacked his lips and Ebony rolled his tongue about, not to mention his eyes, and Mark pursed his mouth, that they were smitten with pleased anticipation, while the eyes of all three indicated considerable surprise!
There were no knives or forks—only horn spoons for the rice; but as each man carried a large clasp-knife in his pocket, the loss was not felt.
In any other circumstances the singularity and unexpected nature of this good treatment would have stirred up the fun of Ebony and the latent humour of Hockins, but they could not shake off the depression caused by the memory of what they had seen in the prison—the heavy iron collars and the cruel binding chains. They tried to put the best face possible on it, but after a few faint sallies relapsed into silence. This, however, did not prevent their eating a sufficiently hearty meal.
“There’s no sayin’ when we may git the chance of another,” was Hockins’s apologetic remark as he helped himself to another fowl.
“It is very mysterious that we should receive such treatment,” said Mark. “I can only account for it by supposing that our friend Ravèlo is an officer of some power. If so, it was doubly fortunate that we had the opportunity of doing him a good turn.”
“Now, you leave dem two drumsticks for me, ’Ockins,” said Ebony, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’ll do yourself a injury if you heat de whole ob ’im.”
“Well, I must confess to bein’ surprised summat,” said the seaman, referring to Mark’s observation, not to Ebony’s.
They were destined to receive some additional surprises before that day was over. The meal which they had been discussing was barely finished when their friend the Interpreter again entered and bade them follow him.
“Queen Ranavalona wish sees you,” he said.
“What! all on us?” exclaimed Hockins, with elevated eyebrows.
“Yis—all.”
“Oh! nonsense,” he cried, turning to Mark. “It must be you, doctor, she wants to see. What can she want with a or’nary seaman like me?”
“Or a extraor’nary nigger like me?” said Ebony, with a look of extreme contempt.
“You kin stop in house if you choose,” remarked the Interpreter, with a quiet grin, “but you heads be splitted if you do.”
“Then I think I’ll go,” said Hockins, quietly.
“Me too,” remarked the negro.
Accordingly they all went—with a slight qualm, however, for they felt slightly doubtful whether, under existing circumstances, they might not after all be going to execution.
The royal palaces, to which they were led, occupy a very conspicuous and commanding position on the summit of the hill, and stand at an elevation of more than 500 feet above the surrounding plains. They are conspicuously larger than any of the other houses in the city, are grouped together in a large court-yard, and number about a dozen houses—large and small. The chief palace, named Manjàka-Miàdana, is about 100 feet long by 80 broad, and 120 high to the apex of its lofty roof. A wide verandah, in three stories, runs all round it. All is painted white except the balustrade. The building next in size to this is the Silver House. On the eastern side of the court-yard are the palace gardens, and around it stand a number of houses which are the residences of the chief officers of the army, the Secretaries of State, and other members of the Government.
On reaching the palace gate two young officers approached to receive the visitors. They were dressed in splendid European regimentals, much bedecked with gold-lace, tight-fitting trousers, Wellington boots, sash, sword, and cocked hat, all complete! One of these, to their surprise, spoke English remarkably well.
“I learned it from the missionaries when I was leetle boy,” he explained to Mark, as he conducted the visitors through the archway and across the spacious court-yard into the palace. In the second storey of the verandah the Queen was seen seated beneath that emblem of royalty the scarlet umbrella, with her Court around her. Before entering the court the visitors had removed their hats. They were now directed to make a profound reverence as they passed, and proceeded along the side of the building to the further end.
A line of native troops was drawn up across the court, but these wore no uniform, only the lamba wound round their waists, and white cross-belts on their naked bodies. They were armed with the old flint-lock muskets and bayonets of the period.
Their conductor, who was an Under-Secretary of State, led them by a dark narrow stair to the balcony where the Queen sat, and in a few moments they found themselves in the presence of the cruel Ranavalona, of whom they had heard so much.
She did not look cruel at that time, however. She was dressed in a rich satin gown, over which she wore the royal scarlet lamba, and jewels of various kinds ornamented her person. She was seated in a chair raised two or three steps above the floor, with her ladies on one side and her gentlemen on the other. The former, among whom were some really good-looking brunettes, had all adopted the English fashion of dress, with parts of native costume retained. Some wore head-dresses of gorgeous colouring, composed of ribbons, flowers, and feathers in great profusion, but as no head-dress, however strongly marked by barbaric splendour, can excel the amazing feminine crests in present use among the civilised, we refrain from attempting description! Most of the men also wore European costume, or portions thereof, some being clad in suits of black broad-cloth.
The amount of ceremony displayed on all hands at Court seemed to have infected our three adventurers, for, when led before the Queen, they approached with several profound bows, to which Hockins added the additional grace of a pull at his forelock. In this he was imitated by Ebony.
For some moments Ranavalona eyed her visitors—perhaps we should say her captives—sternly enough, but there was also a slight touch of softness in her expression, from which Mark drew much comfort; in silence, for as yet the Queen had given no indication as to whether the new-comers were to be treated as friends or spies, and the recent banishment of the missionaries, and harsh treatment of Europeans by the Queen, left their minds in some doubt on the point.
Turning to the Secretary who had introduced the party, Ranavalona spoke to him a few words. When she had finished, the Secretary turned to Mark, whom he at once recognised as the chief and spokesman of the trio.
“Queen Ranavalona bid me ask where you comes from,” he said.
To which Mark replied that they came from England, that they were all English subjects, though one was an African by descent.
“I have heard,” continued the Queen, through her interpreter, “that you have been shipwrecked, that one of your number is a Maker of Medicine, and that you helped one of my people—even saved his life—soon after your arrival in my country. Is that so?”
Mark explained that they had not been shipwrecked, but had been left on shore, and obliged to fly from the natives of the coast; that he was indeed a maker of medicine, though his training had not been quite completed when he left England, and that he had rendered a trifling service to an unfortunate man who had slipped in climbing a cliff, but he could hardly be said to have saved the man’s life.
While he was speaking, Mark observed that his friend Ravèlo stood close to the Queen’s chair, in front of a group of officers, from which circumstance he concluded that he must be a man of some note, and that it was he who had procured the deliverance of himself and his friends from prison.
“Tell the young Maker of Medicine,” said the Queen, in a loud voice, so that all the Court might hear, “that Europeans have behaved very ill here of late, so ill that they had to be banished from my country; for I, Ranavalona, permit no one, whether his face be black, brown, or white, to meddle with my government. They fancied, I suppose, that because I am a woman I am weak and ignorant, and unable to rule! They have now found their mistake, and Christians shall not again be permitted to dwell in my country. But I am Ranavalona, and I will do what I please. If I choose to make an exception I will do it. If any one thinks to oppose my will he shall die. The man whose life was saved by this young Maker of Medicine is my son Rakota—my beloved son. Is it not so?”
The Queen looked round as she spoke, and the man whom we have hitherto styled Ravèlo bent his head and replied, “It is so,” whereupon there were murmurs of surprise and approval among the courtiers.
“Now,” continued the Queen, “as I am grateful, and as I want a physician at Court just now, I appoint this young Maker of Medicine to that post, and I appoint his black companion to be his servant. Do you all hear that?”
All the courtiers made murmurs of assent.
“Tell them all that, Secretary,” said the Queen.
Mark Breezy and his friends had considerable difficulty in concealing their astonishment when “all that” was explained to them, but they had the presence of mind to acknowledge the information with a profound obeisance. At the same time Mark explained, with much modesty, that he was not entitled to aspire to or to accept so high and honourable a position, as he had not yet obtained the standing which entitled him to practise in his own country.
“Tell him,” said the Queen, sternly, “that I, Ranavalona, have nothing to do with the customs of England, and have no regard for them. If he does not accept what I offer, instant banishment—perhaps worse—will be his portion!”
“Oh! massa, accep’ him at once!” murmured Ebony in an undertone, and in much anxiety.
Mark took his advice, and agreed to become Physician to the Court of the Queen of Madagascar, without stipulating either as to salary or privileges!
“I am also told,” said the Queen, with a smile of condescension to her physician, “that your English companion is full of music, and performs on a wonderful little instrument. I have a good band, which was trained by your countrymen, but they have no such little instrument. Let the Man of the Sea perform.”
On this being translated Mark looked at the Man of the Sea, and could with difficulty restrain a burst of laughter at the expression of his countenance.
“What!” exclaimed Hockins, “me play my whistle afore this here Court? Unpossible!”
“You’ll have to try,” said Mark, “unless you wish for instant banishment—or something worse!”
“Oh! ’Ockins, blaze away at once!” murmured Ebony, with renewed anxiety, for the “something worse” was to him suggestive of imprisonment, torture, and death!
Thus pressed, the seaman put his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew forth his cherished flageolet. In a few minutes the Queen and all her courtiers were enthralled by the music. It was not only the novelty and bird-like sweetness of the instrument itself that charmed, but also the fine taste and wonderful touch of the sailor. The warbling notes seemed to trill, rise and fall, and float about on the atmosphere, as it were, like fairy music, filling the air with melody and the soul with delight.
“Good! let the Man of the Sea be also cared for. Give them quarters in the palace, and see that they all attend upon us in the garden to-morrow.”
So saying, the Queen arose, swept into the palace, and left her courtiers to follow.
Immediately Prince Rakota came forward and shook hands with Mark.
“So then, your Highness,” said the latter, “we are indebted to you for all this kindness.”
“It is only one small ting,” returned the Prince in broken English. “Am I not due to you my life? Come, I go show you your house.”
On the way, and after entering the house which was appropriated to their use, Mark learned from the Prince that their approach to the capital had been discovered and announced by spies long before their arrival; that it was they who had discovered and revealed to the Queen Hockins’s wonderful powers with the “little tube.” Also that it was well-known who had guided them through the country, and that Ravoninohitriniony was being diligently sought for in his hiding-places.
This last piece of information filled the three friends with deep concern and anxiety.
“He has been so very kind to us,” said Mark, “and I know is one of the most generously disposed and law-respecting subjects of her Majesty.”
“That not help for him if he tumbles into the hands of my mother,” said the Prince, sadly. “He is a Christian. He has run to the forest, and has made others to fly.”
“But you have much power with the Queen,” pleaded Mark, “could you not induce her to pardon him?”
“Yes—if he will give up Christianity—if not do that—no!”
“That he will never do,” said Mark, firmly. “I know him well. He will rather die than deny Christ.”
“He is likely to die then,” returned Rakota, “for my mother is fixed to root up the religion of Jesus from the land.”
“But surely you don’t agree with her,” broke in Hockins at this point.
“No, I not agree,” said the Prince. “But I can not command the Queen. Some time it very hard to move her even a leetle. My only power with her is love.”
“Das de greatest power in de world!” chimed in Ebony.
“It is,” returned the Prince, “and you be very sure I use the power much as I can for save your friend.”
Chapter Nineteen.
A Malagasy Garden Party—The Cloud grows Blacker
The garden party is by no means a novelty of the present day. In the early part of this century—if not much earlier—Malagasy sovereigns seem to have been wont to treat their Court and friends to this species of entertainment.
The order which the Queen had given that her European visitors should attend upon her in the garden, was neither more nor less than an invitation to a garden party, or pic-nic, to be held the following day at one of her surburban retreats named Anosy, about half-a-mile from the city. Accordingly, early in the morning—for the Malagasy are early risers—their friend the Interpreter came to conduct them to the spot, with a gift of a striped lamba for each of the white men.
“Why she not send one for me?” demanded Ebony, pouting—and Ebony’s pout was something to take note of!
“’Cause you’re black and don’t need no clothing,” said Hockins, awkwardly attempting to put the lamba on his broad shoulders.
“Humph! if she knowed what splendid lobscouse an’ plum duff I kin make,” returned the negro, “Ranny Valony would hab sent me a silk lamba an’ made me her chief cook. Hows’ever, dere’s a good time comin’. I s’pose I ain’t to go to the party?”
“Yis—you muss go. All of you got to go. Kill-deaded—if you don’t go.”
“I’m your man, den, for I don’t want to be deaded yet a while; moreover, I want to see de fun,” returned the negro.
Meanwhile the Interpreter showed them how to put on the lamba—with one end of it thrown over the left shoulder, like the Spaniard’s cloak,—and then conducted them to the palace, where they found three palanquins—or chairs supported by two staves—awaiting them. Getting into them they set off, preceded by the Interpreter in a similar conveyance. Ebony and his bearers brought up the rear.
The Queen and her Court had already started some time. Our party soon reached the scene of festivities, at the south-east of the city. It was a charming spot, having large gardens laid out in the European style, with goodly trees overshadowing the pleasure-house of Anosy, and an extensive lake. The house was on an island in the lake, and was reached by a narrow causeway.
At the entrance to the place two enormous letters, “R R,” formed in grass borders that surrounded flower-beds, indicated that Radama Rex, the first king of that name, had originated those gardens. And they did him credit; for he had made great exertions to accumulate there specimens of the most useful and remarkable trees and plants in the country—especially those that were of service in materia medica. Some immense camphor-wood trees were among the most conspicuous, and there were several specimens of a graceful fan-palm, as well as clumps of the long-leaved Ròfia. The lake was covered in part with a profusion of purple waterlilies, and was well stocked with gold-fish. In the garden and on the upper part of the grounds were luxuriant vines, besides figs, mangoes, pine-apples, and coffee-plants.
Here, to the strains of an excellent band, hundreds of people, in white and striped lambas, and various gay costumes, were walking about enjoying themselves, conversing with animation, or consuming rice, chickens, and beef, on mats beneath the mango and fig-trees. Elsewhere the more youthful and lively among them engaged in various games, such as racing, jumping, etcetera.
“Come,” said their friend of the previous day—the Secretary—to Mark and his comrades, breaking in on their contemplation of the animated scene, “the Queen wishes to see you.”
Her Majesty, who was dressed in a long robe of muslin, embroidered with gold, sat near the door of the garden-house, surrounded by her ladies, who all wore the simple but graceful native dress. A guard of soldiers stood near at hand.
The Queen merely wished to ask a few ceremonial questions of her visitors. While she was engaged with Hockins and the Secretary, Mark ventured to glance at the ladies of the Court, among whom he observed one who made a deep impression on him. She wore, if possible, a simpler dress than any of her companions, and no ornaments whatever. Her features were well formed, and her rather pensive countenance was very beautiful. When they were retiring from the presence of the Queen, Mark could not resist the temptation to ask the Secretary who she was.
“That,” said he, “is our self-willed little Christian, Rafaravavy.”
“She does not look very self-willed,” returned Mark.
“True, and she is not really so—only in the matter of religion. I fear we shall lose her ere long, for she minds not the Queen, and no one who defies Ranavalona lives long. But come, let us sit down under this mango tree and eat. You must be hungry.”
He led them as he spoke to a sequestered spot near a coppice which partially guarded them from public gaze on three sides, and on the fourth side afforded them a charming view of the gardens, the gay assemblage, and the country beyond.
At first both Hockins and Ebony hesitated to sit down to breakfast with so distinguished a person as an Under-Secretary of State.
“We ain’t used, you see, doctor,” observed the seaman in a low tone, “to feed wi’ the quality.”
“Das so, massa,” chimed in Ebony in the same tone; “wittles nebber taste so pleasant in de cabin as in de fo’c’s’l.”
“Don’t object to anything,” replied Mark, quickly, “just do as I do.”
“Hall right, massa. Neck or nuffin—I’m your man!”
As for the seaman, he obeyed without reply, and in a few minutes they were busy with the Secretary over drumsticks and rice.
The free-and-easy sociability of that individual would have surprised them less if they had known that he had been specially commissioned by the Queen to look well after them, and gather all the information they might possess about the fugitive Christians who were hiding in the forests.
Fortunately our young student was quick-witted. He soon perceived the drift of the Secretary’s talk, and, without appearing to evade his questions, gave him such replies as conveyed to him no information whatever of the kind he desired. At the same time, he took occasion, when the Secretary’s attention was attracted by something that was going on, to lay his finger on his lips and bestow a look of solemn warning on his comrades, the effect of which on their intelligent minds was to make the negro intensely stupid and the seaman miraculously ignorant!
Now, while our friends are thus pleasantly engaged, we will return to Rafaravavy, whom we left standing among the Queen’s ladies.
Of all the ladies there that little brunette was not only the best-looking, the sweetest, the most innocent, but also, strange to say, the funniest; by which we do not mean to say that she tried to be funny—far from it, but that she had the keenest perception of the ludicrous, and as her perceptions were quick, and little jokes usually struck her, in vulgar parlance, “all of a heap,” her little explosions of laughter were instantaneous and violently short-lived. Yet her natural temperament was grave and earnest, and her habitual expression, as we have said, pensive.
Indeed it would have been strange had it been otherwise, considering the times in which she lived, the many friends whom she had seen sacrificed by the violence of her royal mistress, and the terrible uncertainty that hung over her own fate.
After a time the Queen dismissed some of her attendants to ramble about the grounds,—among them Rafaravavy, who sauntered down one of the side-walks by herself.
She had not gone far when, on reaching a turn of the road where a small thicket of shrubs concealed her from the more public part of the garden, she heard her own name pronounced.
Stopping abruptly, she listened with intense anxiety expressed on her countenance.
“Rafaravavy!” repeated the voice again, “fear not!” Next moment the bushes were turned aside, a man stepped on the path, and Ravonino stood before her! He seized her in his arms, and printed a fervent kiss upon her lips.
“Oh! Samuel,” she said, using her lover’s Christian name, which she naturally preferred, and speaking, of course, in her native tongue, “why did you come here? You know that it is death if you are caught.”
“I would risk more than death, if that were possible, to see you, Rafaravavy. But I come to ask you to fly with me. Our dear Lord’s counsel is that when we are persecuted we should flee to a place of safety.”
“Impossible!” said the girl, in a tone of decision that made her lover’s heart sink. “Besides, I am not persecuted. The Queen is fond of me, and bears much.”
“Fond of you she may well be, my loved one, she cannot help that; but she is fonder of herself, and the moment you go beyond a certain point she will order you out to execution. Has she not done the same sort of thing before? She is capable of doing it again. She will surely do it again. Come, dearest! let us fly now—this moment. I have a lamba here which will conceal most of your dress. Arrangements are made with some of our friends in the Lord to aid us. Bearers are ready. I will guide you to the caverns in the forest where my sister Ra-Ruth is longing to receive you, where many of your old friends are dwelling in security, where we worship God, and pray to Jesus, and sing the sweet old hymns in peace. Come, dear one! will you not come?”
It was evident that the intense earnestness of the lover was exerting powerful influence over the affectionate maiden, for she began to waver.
“Oh! do not persuade me thus!” she said. “I know not what God would have me do. But the Queen has been very kind to me in spite of my religion, and sometimes I have thought that she listens to my pleading. Perhaps God may use me as the means of bringing her to Jesus. Think what that would be—not only to her own soul but to the multitudes who are now suffering in—”
At that moment footsteps were heard on the gravel walk. They were evidently approaching the spot where the lovers stood. Before Ravonino could make up his mind to drag her into the thicket by main force, Rafaravavy had disengaged herself and bounded away. At the same moment Ravonino glided into the shrubbery and disappeared.
A few seconds later and Mark Breezy stood on the spot they had quitted. He was alone.
“Strange!” he muttered to himself, “I am almost certain that she took this path, and I fancy that the man’s voice sounded like that of Ravonino. Nothing more natural than that he should ferret her out. Yet it seems to have been imagination.”
