Chapter 58

They Visit The Extreme South Of Vivenza

We penetrated further and further into the valleys around; but,
though, as elsewhere, at times we heard whisperings that promised an
end to our wanderings;--we still wandered on; and once again, even
Yoomy abated his sanguine hopes.

And now, we prepared to embark for the extreme south of the land.

But we were warned by the people, that in that portion of Vivenza,
whither we were going, much would be seen repulsive to strangers. Such
things, however, indulgent visitors overlooked. For themselves, they
were well aware of those evils. Northern Vivenza had done all it could
to assuage them; but in vain; the inhabitants of those southern
valleys were a fiery, and intractable race; heeding neither
expostulations, nor entreaties. They were wedded to their ways. Nay,
they swore, that if the northern tribes persisted in intermeddlings,
they would dissolve the common alliance, and establish a distinct
confederacy among themselves.

Our coasting voyage at an end, our keels grated the beach among many
prostrate palms, decaying, and washed by the billows. Though part and
parcel of the shore we had left, this region seemed another land.
Fewer thriving thingswere seen; fewer cheerful sounds were heard.

"Here labor has lost his laugh!" cried Yoomy.

It was a great plain where we landed; and there, under a burning sun,
hundreds of collared men were toiling in trenches, filled with
the taro plant; a root most flourishing in that soil. Standing grimly
over these, were men unlike them; armed with long thongs, which
descended upon the toilers, and made wounds. Blood and sweat mixed;
and in great drops, fell.

"Who eat these plants thus nourished?" cried Yoomy. "Are these men?"
asked Babbalanja.

"Which mean you?" said Mohi.

Heeding him not, Babbalanja advanced toward the fore-most of those
with the thongs,--one Nulli: a cadaverous, ghost-like man; with a low
ridge of forehead; hair, steel-gray; and wondrous eyes;--bright,
nimble, as the twin Corposant balls, playing about the ends of ships'
royal-yards in gales.

The sun passed under a cloud; and Nulli, darting at Babbalanja those
wondrous eyes, there fell upon him a baleful glare.

"Have they souls?" he asked, pointing to the serfs.

"No," said Nulli, "their ancestors may have had; but their souls have
been bred out of their descendants; as the instinct of scent is killed
in pointers."

Approaching one of the serfs, Media took him by the hand, and felt of
it long; and looked into his eyes; and placed his ear to his side; and
exclaimed, "Surely this being has flesh that is warm; he has Oro in