- end_line
- 9431
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:25.203Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 9371
- text
- In spite of all the efforts of the poor old man, sundry twitchings and
screwings of the muscles of the face denoted the exquisite sensibility
of these shutters to the windows of his soul, which he was now having
repainted. But the artist, with a heart as callous as that of an army
surgeon, continued his performance, enlivening his labours with a wild
chant, tapping away the while as merrily as a woodpecker.
So deeply engaged was he in his work, that he had not observed our
approach, until, after having, enjoyed an unmolested view of the
operation, I chose to attract his attention. As soon as he perceived me,
supposing that I sought him in his professional capacity, he seized hold
of me in a paroxysm of delight, and was an eagerness to begin the work.
When, however, I gave him to understand that he had altogether mistaken
my views, nothing could exceed his grief and disappointment. But
recovering from this, he seemed determined not to credit my assertion,
and grasping his implements, he flourished them about in fearful
vicinity to my face, going through an imaginary performance of his art,
and every moment bursting into some admiring exclamation at the beauty
of his designs.
Horrified at the bare thought of being rendered hideous for life if the
wretch were to execute his purpose upon me, I struggled to get away
from him, while Kory-Kory, turning traitor, stood by, and besought me
to comply with the outrageous request. On my reiterated refusals the
excited artist got half beside himself, and was overwhelmed with sorrow
at losing so noble an opportunity of distinguishing himself in his
profession.
The idea of engrafting his tattooing upon my white skin filled him
with all a painter’s enthusiasm; again and again he gazed into my
countenance, and every fresh glimpse seemed to add to the vehemence
of his ambition. Not knowing to what extremities he might proceed,
and shuddering at the ruin he might inflict upon my figure-head, I now
endeavoured to draw off his attention from it, and holding out my arm
in a fit of desperation, signed to him to commence operations. But he
rejected the compromise indignantly, and still continued his attack on
my face, as though nothing short of that would satisfy him. When his
forefinger swept across my features, in laying out the borders of those
parallel bands which were to encircle my countenance, the flesh fairly
crawled upon my bones. At last, half wild with terror and indignation, I
succeeded in breaking away from the three savages, and fled towards old
Marheyo’s house, pursued by the indomitable artist, who ran after me,
implements in hand. Kory-Kory, however, at last interfered and drew him
off from the chase.
This incident opened my eyes to a new danger; and I now felt convinced
that in some luckless hour I should be disfigured in such a manner as
never more to have the FACE to return to my countrymen, even should an
opportunity offer.
These apprehensions were greatly increased by the desire which King
Mehevi and several of the inferior chiefs now manifested that I should
be tattooed. The pleasure of the king was first signified to me some
three days after my casual encounter with Karky the artist. Heavens!
what imprecations I showered upon that Karky. Doubtless he had plotted a
conspiracy against me and my countenance, and would never rest until his
diabolical purpose was accomplished. Several times I met him in various
parts of the valley, and, invariably, whenever he descried me, he came
running after me with his mallet and chisel, flourishing them about my
face as if he longed to begin. What an object he would have made of me!
- title
- Chunk 2