Taburet was consulted about all sorts of things. For instance, a pretty Fulah woman from Saga with a pale complexion and engaging manners had got into trouble. She had overstepped the bounds of reserve prescribed in her tribe to young girls, and was soon to become a mother. Well, she came timidly to the doctor to ask for medicines for her case, and when it was explained to her that that case was incurable, for the French law forbids the destruction of life, she went away, only to return the next day with her mother. The latter explained that if she and her daughter returned to their village as things were, they would both be stoned to death, or at least, if their judges were merciful, be put in irons for the rest of their lives. The young girl was pretty, many men in her village had asked her in marriage, but she had refused them all. All her people were now eager to revenge themselves on her, and to apply in all their terrible rigour, the “just Mussulman laws.” She had neither father, brother, nor any one to defend her. Her seducer had deserted her, and it is not customary amongst the Fulahs to make inquiries as to the father of illegitimate children. The people of Say had recommended the mother in mockery to take her girl to the Christians, she was good for nothing else now, they said. If we could not cure her, there was nothing left for them to do but to hide themselves in the fetich-worshipping village of Gurma, where they would lead a miserable life, unnoticed and unknown. The two poor women with tears in their eyes knelt to the doctor imploring his help, and crying _Safarikoy! Safarikoy!_ and I asked myself, what would be the duty of a doctor in this bigoted land if he had had the necessary instruments for meeting the unfortunate girl’s wishes. Perhaps it was as well that in this case nothing could be done. All the same this domestic drama was very heart-rending. I tried for a long time to console our visitors. The old woman stuck to her request for medicine, and promised to reward us with everything she could think of likely to please us. She even offered us her daughter, saying that she might remain with us, and could follow us wherever we went. I told Digui to get rid of them as gently as possible, and gave them a good present to enable them to reach some heathen village where the people would have pity on them. They departed at last, the mother’s tears soaking her tattered garments, the daughter following her, her little feet swollen with walking, and her head drooping in her despair. _À propos_ of this episode, Suleyman the interpreter held forth in the following strain—“From the earliest times prophets, marabouts, and the negro chiefs who founded the religious dynasty of the country, have been terribly severe on any lapse from morality amongst their women, but it is all humbug, for most of the marabouts are the fathers of illegitimate children.