'Oh, mon Dieu!' yelled Alphonse, startled quite out of such
self-command as he possessed.
'_Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!_' the Titanic echoes thundered,
shrieked, and wailed in every conceivable tone.
'Ah,' said Umslopogaas calmly, 'I clearly perceive that devils
live here. Well, the place looks like it.'
I tried to explain to him that the cause of all the hubbub was
a very remarkable and interesting echo, but he would not believe it.
'Ah,' he said, 'I know an echo when I hear one. There was one lived
opposite my kraal in Zululand, and the Intombis [maidens] used
to talk with it. But if what we hear is a full-grown echo, mine
at home can only have been a baby. No, no -- they are devils
up there. But I don't think much of them, though,' he added,
taking a pinch of snuff. 'They can copy what one says, but they
don't seem to be able to talk on their own account, and they
dare not show their faces,' and he relapsed into silence, and
apparently paid no further attention to such contemptible fiends.
After this we found it necessary to keep our conversation down
to a whisper -- for it was really unbearable to have every word
one uttered tossed to and fro like a tennis-ball, as precipice
called to precipice.
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