"First, I must warn you, before beginning this work, not to be surprised to hearme calling barbarians byGrecian names. " --PLATO _Critias_

 ATLANTIDA

 _Pierre Benoit_

 Translated by Mary C. Tongue and Mary Ross

 ACE BOOKS, INC. 1120 Avenue of the Americas New York, N. Y. 10036

 To André Suarès

[Illustration]

HASSI-INIFEL, NOVEMBER 8, 1903. 

If the following pages are ever to see the light of day it will bebecause they have been stolen from me. The delay that I exact beforethey shall be disclosed assures me of that. [1]

[Footnote 1: This letter, together with the manuscript whichaccompanies it, the latter in a separate sealed envelope, wasentrusted by Lieutenant Ferrières, of the 3rd Spahis, the day of thedeparture of that officer for the Tassili of the Tuareg (CentralSahara), to Sergeant Chatelain. The sergeant was instructed to deliverit, on his next leave, to M. Leroux, Honorary Counsel at the Court ofAppeals at Riom, and Lieutenant Ferrières' nearest relative. As thismagistrate died suddenly before the expiration of the term of tenyears set for the publication of the manuscript here presented, difficulties arose which have delayed its publication up to thepresent date. ]

As to this disclosure, let no one distrust my aim when I prepare forit, when I insist upon it. You may believe me when I maintain that nopride of authorship binds me to these pages. Already I am too farremoved from all such things. Only it is useless that others shouldenter upon the path from which I shall not return. 

Four o'clock in the morning. Soon the sun will kindle the hamada withits pink fire. All about me the bordj is asleep. Through the half-opendoor of his room I hear André de Saint-Avit breathing quietly, veryquietly. 

In two days we shall start, he and I. We shall leave the bordj. Weshall penetrate far down there to the South. The official orders camethis morning. 

Now, even if I wished to withdraw, it is too late. André and I askedfor this mission. The authorization that I sought, together with him, has at this moment become an order. The hierarchic channels cleared, the pressure brought to bear at the Ministry;--and then to be afraid, to recoil before this adventure!. .. 

To be afraid, I said. I know that I am not afraid! One night in theGurara, when I found two of my sentinels slaughtered, with theshameful cross cut of the Berbers slashed across their stomachs--thenI was afraid. I know what fear is. Just so now, when I gazed into theblack depths, whence suddenly all at once the great red sun will rise, I know that it is not with fear that I tremble. I feel surging withinme the sacred horror of this mystery, and its irresistible attraction. 

Delirious dreams, perhaps. The mad imaginings of a brain surcharged, and an eye distraught by mirages. The day will come, doubtless, when Ishall reread these pages with an indulgent smile, as a man of fifty isaccustomed to smile when he rereads old letters. 

Delirious dreams. Mad imaginings. But these dreams, these imaginings, are dear to me. "Captain de Saint-Avit and Lieutenant Ferrières, "reads the official dispatch, "will proceed to Tassili to determine thestatigraphic relation of Albien sandstone and carboniferous limestone. They will, in addition, profit by any opportunities of determining thepossible change of attitude of the Axdjers towards our penetration, etc. " If the journey should indeed have to do only with such poorthings I think that I should never undertake it. 

So I am longing for what I dread. I shall be dejected if I do notfind myself in the presence of what makes me strangely fearful. 

In the depths of the valley of Wadi Mia a jackal is barking. Now andagain, when a beam of moonlight breaks in a silver patch through thehollows of the heat-swollen clouds, making him think he sees the youngsun, a turtle dove moans among the palm trees. 

I hear a step outside. I lean out of the window. A shade clad inluminous black stuff glides over the hard-packed earth of the terraceof the fortification. A light shines in the electric blackness. A manhas just lighted a cigarette. He crouches, facing southwards. He issmoking. 

It is Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, our Targa guide, the man who in three daysis to lead us across the unknown plateaus of the mysteriousImoschaoch, across the hamadas of black stones, the great dried oases, the stretches of silver salt, the tawny hillocks, the flat gold dunesthat are crested over, when the "alizé" blows, with a shimmering hazeof pale sand. 

Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh! He is the man. There recurs to my mind Duveyrier'stragic phrase, "At the very moment the Colonel was putting his foot inthe stirrup he was felled by a sabre blow. "[2] Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh!There he is, peacefully smoking his cigarette, a cigarette from thepackage that I gave him. .. . May the Lord forgive me for it. 

[Footnote 2: H. Duveyrier, "The Disaster of the Flatters Mission. "Bull. Geol. Soc. , 1881. ]

The lamp casts a yellow light on the paper. Strange fate, which, Inever knew exactly why, decided one day when I was a lad of sixteenthat I should prepare myself for Saint Cyr, and gave me there André deSaint-Avit as classmate. I might have studied law or medicine. Then Ishould be today a respectable inhabitant of a town with a church andrunning water, instead of this cotton-clad phantom, brooding with anunspeakable anxiety over this desert which is about to swallow me. 

A great insect has flown in through the window. It buzzes, strikesagainst the rough cast, rebounds against the globe of the lamp, andthen, helpless, its wings singed by the still burning candle, drops onthe white paper. 

It is an African May bug, big, black, with spots of livid gray. 

I think of others, its brothers in France, the golden-brown May bugs, which I have seen on stormy summer evenings projecting themselves likelittle particles of the soil of my native countryside. It was therethat as a child I spent my vacations, and later on, my leaves. On mylast leave, through those same meadows, there wandered beside me aslight form, wearing a thin scarf, because of the evening air, so coolback there. But now this memory stirs me so slightly that I scarcelyraise my eyes to that dark corner of my room where the light is dimlyreflected by the glass of an indistinct portrait. I realize of howlittle consequence has become what had seemed at one time capable offilling all my life. This plaintive mystery is of no more interest tome. If the strolling singers of Rolla came to murmur their famousnostalgic airs under the window of this bordj I know that I should notlisten to them, and if they became insistent I should send them ontheir way. 

What has been capable of causing this metamorphosis in me? A story, alegend, perhaps, told, at any rate by one on whom rests the direst ofsuspicions. 

Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh has finished his cigarette. I hear him returningwith slow steps to his mat, in barrack B, to the left of the guardpost. 

Our departure being scheduled for the tenth of November, themanuscript attached to this letter was begun on Sunday, the first, andfinished on Thursday, the fifth of November, 1903. 

OLIVIER FERRIÈRES, Lt. 3rd Spahis. 

I

A SOUTHERN ASSIGNMENT

Sunday, the sixth of June, 1903, broke the monotony of the life thatwe were leading at the Post of Hassi-Inifel by two events of unequalimportance, the arrival of a letter from Mlle. De C----, and thelatest numbers of the Official Journal of the French Republic. 

"I have the Lieutenant's permission?" said Sergeant Chatelain, beginning to glance through the magazines he had just removed fromtheir wrappings. 

I acquiesced with a nod, already completely absorbed in reading Mlle. De C----'s letter. 

"When this reaches you, " was the gist of this charming being's letter, "mama and I will doubtless have left Paris for the country. If, inyour distant parts, it might be a consolation to imagine me as boredhere as you possibly can be, make the most of it. The Grand Prix isover. I played the horse you pointed out to me, and naturally, I lost. Last night we dined with the Martials de la Touche. Elias Chatrian wasthere, always amazingly young. I am sending you his last book, whichhas made quite a sensation. It seems that the Martials de la Toucheare depicted there without disguise. I will add to it Bourget's last, and Loti's, and France's, and two or three of the latest music hallhits. In the political word, they say the law about congregations willmeet with strenuous opposition. Nothing much in the theatres. I havetaken out a summer subscription for _l'Illustration_. Would you carefor it? In the country no one knows what to do. Always the same lot ofidiots ready for tennis. I shall deserve no credit for writing to youoften. Spare me your reflections concerning young Combemale. I am lessthan nothing of a feminist, having too much faith in those who tell methat I am pretty, in yourself in particular. But indeed, I grow wildat the idea that if I permitted myself half the familiarities with oneof our lads that you have surely with your Ouled-Nails. .. . Enough ofthat, it is too unpleasant an idea. "

I had reached this point in the prose of this advanced young womanwhen a scandalized exclamation of the Sergeant made me look up. 

"Lieutenant!"

"Yes?"

"They are up to something at the Ministry. See for yourself. "

He handed me the Official. I read:

"By a decision of the first of May, 1903, Captain de Saint-Avit(André), unattached, is assigned to the Third Spahis, and appointedCommandant of the Post of Hassi-Inifel. "

Chatelain's displeasure became fairly exuberant. 

"Captain de Saint-Avit, Commandant of the Post. A post which has neverhad a slur upon it. They must take us for a dumping ground. "

My surprise was as great as the Sergeant's. But just then I saw theevil, weasel-like face of Gourrut, the convict we used as clerk. Hehad stopped his scrawling and was listening with a sly interest. 

"Sergeant, Captain de Saint-Avit is my ranking classmate, " I answereddryly. 

Chatelain saluted, and left the room. I followed. 

"There, there, " I said, clapping him on the back, "no hard feelings. Remember that in an hour we are starting for the oasis. Have thecartridges ready. It is of the utmost importance to restock thelarder. "

I went back to the office and motioned Gourrut to go. Left alone, Ifinished Mlle. De C----'s letter very quickly, and then reread thedecision of the Ministry giving the post a new chief. 

It was now five months that I had enjoyed that distinction, and on myword, I had accepted the responsibility well enough, and been verywell pleased with the independence. I can even affirm, without takingtoo much credit for myself, that under my command discipline had beenbetter maintained than under Captain Dieulivol, Saint-Avit'spredecessor. A brave man, this Captain Dieulivol, a non-commissionedofficer under Dodds and Duchesne, but subject to a terrible propensityfor strong liquors, and too much inclined, when he had drunk, toconfuse his dialects, and to talk to a Houassa in Sakalave. No one wasever more sparing of the post water supply. One morning when he waspreparing his absinthe in the presence of the Sergeant, Chatelain, noticing the Captain's glass, saw with amazement that the green liquorwas blanched by a far stronger admixture of water than usual. Helooked up, aware that something abnormal had just occurred. Rigid, thecarafe inverted in his hand, Captain Dieulivol was spilling the waterwhich was running over on the sugar. He was dead. 

For six months, since the disappearance of this sympathetic oldtippler, the Powers had not seemed to interest themselves in findinghis successor. I had even hoped at times that a decision might bereached investing me with the rights that I was in fact exercising. .. . And today this surprising appointment. 

Captain de Saint-Avit. He was of my class at St. Cyr. I had lost trackof him. Then my attention had been attracted to him by his rapidadvancement, his decoration, the well-deserved recognition of threeparticularly daring expeditions of exploration to Tebesti and the Air;and suddenly, the mysterious drama of his fourth expedition, thatfamous mission undertaken with Captain Morhange, from which only oneof the explorers came back. Everything is forgotten quickly in France. That was at least six years ago. I had not heard Saint-Avit mentionedsince. I had even supposed that he had left the army. And now, I wasto have him as my chief. 

"After all, what's the difference, " I mused, "he or another! At schoolhe was charming, and we have had only the most pleasant relationships. Besides, I haven't enough yearly income to afford the rank ofCaptain. "

And I left the office, whistling as I went. 

 * * * * *

We were now, Chatelain and I, our guns resting on the already coolingearth, beside the pool that forms the center of the meager oasis, hidden behind a kind of hedge of alfa. The setting sun was reddeningthe stagnant ditches which irrigate the poor garden plots of thesedentary blacks. 

Not a word during the approach. Not a word during the shoot. Chatelainwas obviously sulking. 

In silence we knocked down, one after the other, several of themiserable doves which came on dragging wings, heavy with the heat ofthe day, to quench their thirst at the thick green water. When ahalf-dozen slaughtered little bodies were lined up at our feet I putmy hand on the Sergeant's shoulder. 

"Chatelain!"

He trembled. 

"Chatelain, I was rude to you a little while ago. Don't be angry. Itwas the bad time before the siesta. The bad time of midday. "

"The Lieutenant is master here, " he answered in a tone that was meantto be gruff, but which was only strained. 

"Chatelain, don't be angry. You have something to say to me. You knowwhat I mean. "

"I don't know really. No, I don't know. "

"Chatelain, Chatelain, why not be sensible? Tell me something aboutCaptain de Saint-Avit. "

"I know nothing. " He spoke sharply. 

"Nothing? Then what were you saying a little while ago?"

"Captain de Saint-Avit is a brave man. " He muttered the words with hishead still obstinately bent. "He went alone to Bilma, to the Air, quite alone to those places where no one had ever been. He is a braveman. "

"He is a brave man, undoubtedly, " I answered with great restraint. "But he murdered his companion, Captain Morhange, did he not?"

The old Sergeant trembled. 

"He is a brave man, " he persisted. 

"Chatelain, you are a child. Are you afraid that I am going to repeatwhat you say to your new Captain?"

I had touched him to the quick. He drew himself up. 

"Sergeant Chatelain is afraid of no one, Lieutenant. He has been atAbomey, against the Amazons, in a country where a black arm startedout from every bush to seize your leg, while another cut it off foryou with one blow of a cutlass. "

"Then what they say, what you yourself--"

"That is talk. "

"Talk which is repeated in France, Chatelain, everywhere. "

He bent his head still lower without replying. 

"Ass, " I burst out, "will you speak?"

"Lieutenant, Lieutenant, " he fairly pled, "I swear that what I know, or nothing--"

"What you know you are going to tell me, and right away. If not, Igive you my word of honor that, for a month, I shall not speak to youexcept on official business. "

Hassi-Inifel: thirty native Arabs and four Europeans--myself, theSergeant, a Corporal, and Gourrut. The threat was terrible. It had itseffect. 

"All right, then, Lieutenant, " he said with a great sigh. "Butafterwards you must not blame me for having told you things about asuperior which should not be told and come only from the talk Ioverheard at mess. "

"Tell away. "

"It was in 1899. I was then Mess Sergeant at Sfax, with the 4thSpahis. I had a good record, and besides, as I did not drink, theAdjutant had assigned me to the officers' mess. It was a soft berth. The marketing, the accounts, recording the library books which wereborrowed (there weren't many), and the key of the wine cupboard, --forwith that you can't trust orderlies. The Colonel was young and dinedat mess. One evening he came in late, looking perturbed, and, as soonas he was seated, called for silence:

"'Gentlemen, ' he said, 'I have a communication to make to you, and Ishall ask for your advice. Here is the question. Tomorrow morning the_City of Naples_ lands at Sfax. Aboard her is Captain de Saint-Avit, recently assigned to Feriana, en route to his post. '

"The Colonel paused. 'Good, ' thought I, 'tomorrow's menu is about tobe considered. ' For you know the custom, Lieutenant, which has existedever since there have been any officers' clubs in Africa. When anofficer is passing by, his comrades go to meet him at the boat andinvite him to remain with them for the length of his stay in port. Hepays his score in news from home. On such occasions everything is ofthe best, even for a simple lieutenant. At Sfax an officer on a visitmeant--one extra course, vintage wine and old liqueurs. 

"But this time I imagined from the looks the officers exchanged thatperhaps the old stock would stay undisturbed in its cupboard. 

"'You have all, I think, heard of Captain de Saint-Avit, gentlemen, and the rumors about him. It is not for us to inquire into them, andthe promotion he has had, his decoration if you will, permits us tohope that they are without foundation. But between not suspecting anofficer of being a criminal, and receiving him at our table as acomrade, there is a gulf that we are not obliged to bridge. That isthe matter on which I ask your advice. '

"There was silence. The officers looked at each other, all of themsuddenly quite grave, even to the merriest of the second lieutenants. In the corner, where I realized that they had forgotten me, I triednot to make the least sound that might recall my presence. 

"'We thank you, Colonel, ' one of the majors finally replied, 'for yourcourtesy in consulting us. All my comrades, I imagine, know to whatterrible rumors you refer. If I may venture to say so, in Paris at theArmy Geographical Service, where I was before coming here, most of theofficers of the highest standing had an opinion on this unfortunatematter which they avoided stating, but which cast no glory uponCaptain de Saint-Avit. '

"'I was at Bammako, at the time of the Morhange-Saint-Avit mission, 'said a Captain. 'The opinion of the officers there, I am sorry to say, differed very little from what the Major describes. But I must addthat they all admitted that they had nothing but suspicions to go on. And suspicions are certainly not enough considering the atrocity ofthe affair. '

"'They are quite enough, gentlemen, ' replied the Colonel, 'to accountfor our hesitation. It is not a question of passing judgment; but noman can sit at our table as a matter of right. It is a privilege basedon fraternal esteem. The only question is whether it is your decisionto accord it to Saint-Avit. '

"So saying, he looked at the officers, as if he were taking a rollcall. One after another they shook their heads. 

"'I see that we agree, ' he said. 'But our task is unfortunately notyet over. The _City of Naples_ will be in port tomorrow morning. Thelaunch which meets the passengers leaves at eight o'clock. It will benecessary, gentlemen, for one of you to go aboard. Captain deSaint-Avit might be expecting to come to us. We certainly have nointention of inflicting upon him the humiliation of refusing him, ifhe presented himself in expectation of the customary reception. Hemust be prevented from coming. It will be wisest to make himunderstand that it is best for him to stay aboard. '

"The Colonel looked at the officers again. They could not but agree. But how uncomfortable each one looked!

"'I cannot hope to find a volunteer among you for this kind ofmission, so I am compelled to appoint some one. Captain Grandjean, Captain de Saint-Avit is also a Captain. It is fitting that it be anofficer of his own rank who carries him our message. Besides, you arethe latest comer here. Therefore it is to you that I entrust thispainful interview. I do not need to suggest that you conduct it asdiplomatically as possible. '

"Captain Grandjean bowed, while a sigh of relief escaped from all theothers. As long as the Colonel stayed in the room Grandjean remainedapart, without speaking. It was only after the chief had departed thathe let fall the words: "'There are some things that ought to count agood deal for promotion. '

"The next day at luncheon everyone was impatient for his return. 

"'Well?' demanded the Colonel, briefly. 

"Captain Grandjean did not reply immediately. He sat down at the tablewhere his comrades were mixing their drinks, and he, a man notoriousfor sobriety, drank almost at a gulp, without waiting for the sugar tomelt, a full glass of absinthe. 

"'Well, Captain?' repeated the Colonel. 

"'Well, Colonel, it's done. You can be at ease. He will not set foot onshore. But, ye gods, what an ordeal!'

"The officers did not dare speak. Only their looks expressed theiranxious curiosity. 

"Captain Grandjean poured himself a swallow of water. 

"'You see, I had gotten my speech all ready, in the launch. But as Iwent up the ladder I knew that I had forgotten it. Saint-Avit was inthe smoking-room, with the Captain of the boat. It seemed to me that Icould never find the strength to tell him, when I saw him all ready togo ashore. He was in full dress uniform, his sabre lay on the benchand he was wearing spurs. No one wears spurs on shipboard. I presentedmyself and we exchanged several remarks, but I must have seemedsomewhat strained for from the first moment I knew that he sensedsomething. Under some pretext he left the Captain, and led me aft nearthe great rudder wheel. There, I dared speak. Colonel, what did I say?How I must have stammered! He did not look at me. Leaning his elbowson the railing he let his eyes wander far off, smiling slightly. Then, of a sudden, when I was well tangled up in explanations, he looked atme coolly and said:

"'I must thank you, my dear fellow, for having given yourself so muchtrouble. But it is quite unnecessary. I am out of sorts and have nointention of going ashore. At least, I have the pleasure of havingmade your acquaintance. Since I cannot profit by your hospitality, youmust do me the favor of accepting mine as long as the launch stays bythe vessel. '

"Then we went back to the smoking-room. He himself mixed thecocktails. He talked to me. We discovered that we had mutualacquaintances. Never shall I forget that face, that ironic and distantlook, that sad and melodious voice. Ah! Colonel, gentlemen, I don'tknow what they may say at the Geographic Office, or in the posts ofthe Soudan. .. . There can be nothing in it but a horrible suspicion. Such a man, capable of such a crime, --believe me, it is not possible. 

"That is all, Lieutenant, " finished Chatelain, after a silence. "Ihave never seen a sadder meal than that one. The officers hurriedthrough lunch without a word being spoken, in an atmosphere ofdepression against which no one tried to struggle. And in thiscomplete silence, you could see them always furtively watching the_City of Naples_, where she was dancing merrily in the breeze, aleague from shore. 

"She was still there in the evening when they assembled for dinner, and it was not until a blast of the whistle, followed by curls ofsmoke escaping from the red and black smokestack had announced thedeparture of the vessel for Gabes, that conversation was resumed; andeven then, less gaily than usual. 

"After that, Lieutenant, at the Officers' Club at Sfax, they avoidedlike the plague any subject which risked leading the conversation backto Captain de Saint-Avit. "

Chatelain had spoken almost in a whisper, and the little people of thedesert had not heard this singular history. It was an hour since wehad fired our last cartridge. Around the pool the turtle doves, oncemore reassured, were bathing their feathers. Mysterious great birdswere flying under the darkening palm trees. A less warm wind rockedthe trembling black palm branches. We had laid aside our helmets sothat our temples could welcome the touch of the feeble breeze. 

"Chatelain, " I said, "it is time to go back to the bordj. "

Slowly we picked up the dead doves. I felt the Sergeant looking at mereproachfully, as if regretting that he had spoken. Yet during all thetime that our return trip lasted, I could not find the strength tobreak our desolate silence with a single word. 

The night had almost fallen when we arrived. The flag whichsurmounted the post was still visible, drooping on its standard, butalready its colors were indistinguishable. To the west the sun haddisappeared behind the dunes gashed against the black violet of thesky. 

When we had crossed the gate of the fortifications, Chatelain left me. 

"I am going to the stables, " he said. 

I returned alone to that part of the fort where the billets for theEuropeans and the stores of ammunition were located. An inexpressiblesadness weighed upon me. 

I thought of my comrades in French garrisons. At this hour they mustbe returning home to find awaiting them, spread out upon the bed, their dress uniform, their braided tunic, their sparkling epaulettes. 

"Tomorrow, " I said to myself, "I shall request a change of station. "

The stairway of hard-packed earth was already black. But a few gleamsof light still seemed palely prowling in the office when I entered. 

A man was sitting at my desk, bending over the files of orders. Hisback was toward me. He did not hear me enter. 

"Really, Gourrut, my lad, I beg you not to disturb yourself. Makeyourself completely at home. "

The man had risen, and I saw him to be quite tall, slender and verypale. 

"Lieutenant Ferrières, is it not?"

He advanced, holding out his hand. 

"Captain de Saint-Avit. Delighted, my dear fellow. "

At the same time Chatelain appeared on the threshold. 

"Sergeant, " said the newcomer, "I cannot congratulate you on thelittle I have seen. There is not a camel saddle which is not in wantof buckles, and they are rusty enough to suggest that it rains atHassi-Inifel three hundred days in the year. Furthermore, where wereyou this afternoon? Among the four Frenchmen who compose the post, Ifound only on my arrival one convict, opposite a quart of eau-de-vie. We will change all that, I hope. At ease. "

"Captain, " I said, and my voice was colorless, while Chatelainremained frozen at attention, "I must tell you that the Sergeant waswith me, that it is I who am responsible for his absence from thepost, that he is an irreproachable non-commissioned officer from everypoint of view, and that if we had been warned of your arrival--"

"Evidently, " he said, with a coldly ironical smile. "Also, Lieutenant, I have no intention of holding him responsible for the negligenceswhich attach to your office. He is not obliged to know that theofficer who abandons a post like Hassi-Inifel, if it is only for twohours, risks not finding much left on his return. The Chaambabrigands, my dear sir, love firearms, and for the sake of the sixtymuskets in your racks, I am sure they would not scruple to make anofficer, whose otherwise excellent record is well known to me, accountfor his absence to a court-martial. Come with me, if you please. Wewill finish the little inspection I began too rapidly a little whileago. "

He was already on the stairs. I followed in his footsteps. Chatelainclosed the order of march. I heard him murmuring, in a tone which youcan imagine:

"Well, we are in for it now!"

II

CAPTAIN DE SAINT-AVIT

A few days sufficed to convince us that Chatelain's fears as to ourofficial relations with the new chief were vain. Often I have thoughtthat by the severity he showed at our first encounter Saint-Avitwished to create a formal barrier, to show us that he knew how to keephis head high in spite of the weight of his heavy past. Certain it isthat the day after his arrival, he showed himself in a very differentlight, even complimenting the Sergeant on the upkeep of the post andthe instruction of the men. To me he was charming. 

"We are of the same class, aren't we?" he said to me. "I don't haveto ask you to dispense with formalities, it is your right. "

Vain marks of confidence, alas! False witnesses to a freedom ofspirit, one in face of the other. What more accessible in appearancethan the immense Sahara, open to all those who are willing to beengulfed by it? Yet what is more secret? After six months ofcompanionship, of communion of life such as only a Post in the Southoffers, I ask myself if the most extraordinary of my adventures is notto be leaving to-morrow, toward unsounded solitudes, with a man whosereal thoughts are as unknown to me as these same solitudes, for whichhe has succeeded in making me long. 

The first surprise which was given me by this singular companion wasoccasioned by the baggage that followed him. 

On his inopportune arrival, alone, from Wargla, he had trusted to theMehari he rode only what can be carried without harm by such adelicate beast, --his arms, sabre and revolver, a heavy carbine, and avery reduced pack. The rest did not arrive till fifteen days later, with the convoy which supplied the post. 

Three cases of respectable dimensions were carried one after anotherto the Captain's room, and the grimaces of the porters said enough asto their weight. 

I discreetly left Saint-Avit to his unpacking and began opening themail which the convoy had sent me. 

He returned to the office a little later and glanced at the severalreviews which I had just recieved. 

"So, " he said. "You take these. "

He skimmed through, as he spoke, the last number of the _Zeitschriftder Gesellschaft fur Erdkunde in Berlin_. 

"Yes, " I answered. "These gentlemen are kind enough to interestthemselves in my works on the geology of the Wadi Mia and the highIgharghar. "

"That may be useful to me, " he murmured, continuing to turn over theleaves. 

"It's at your service. "

"Thanks. I am afraid I have nothing to offer you in exchange, exceptPliny, perhaps. And still--you know what he said of Igharghar, according to King Juba. However, come help me put my traps in placeand you will see if anything appeals to you. "

I accepted without further urging. 

We commenced by unearthing various meteorological and astronomicalinstruments--the thermometers of Baudin, Salleron, Fastre, an aneroid, a Fortin barometer, chronometers, a sextant, an astronomical spyglass, a compass glass. .. . In short, what Duveyrier calls the material thatis simplest and easiest to transport on a camel. 

As Saint-Avit handed them to me I arranged them on the only table inthe room. 

"Now, " he announced to me, "there is nothing more but books. I willpass them to you. Pile them up in a corner until I can have abook-shelf made. "

For two hours altogether I helped him to heap up a real library. Andwhat a library! Such as never before a post in the South had seen. Allthe texts consecrated, under whatever titles, by antiquity to theregions of the Sahara were reunited between the four rough-cast wallsof that little room of the bordj. Herodotus and Pliny, naturally, andlikewise Strabo and Ptolemy, Pomponius Mela, and Ammien Marcellin. Butbesides these names which reassured my ignorance a little, I perceivedthose of Corippus, of Paul Orose, of Eratosthenes, of Photius, ofDiodorus of Sicily, of Solon, of Dion Cassius, of Isidor of Seville, of Martin de Tyre, of Ethicus, of Athenée, the _Scriptores HistoriaeAugustae_, the _Itinerarium Antonini Augusti_, the _Geographi LatiniMinores_ of Riese, the _Geographi Graeci Minores_ of Karl Muller. .. . Since I have had the occasion to familiarize myself with Agatarchidesof Cos and Artemidorus of Ephesus, but I admit that in this instancethe presence of their dissertations in the saddle bags of a captain ofcavalry caused me some amazement. 

I mention further the _Descrittione dell' Africa_ by Leon l'African, the _Arabian Histories_ of Ibn-Khaldoun, of Al-Iaquob, of El-Bekri, ofIbn-Batoutah, of Mahommed El-Tounsi. .. . In the midst of this Babel, Iremember the names of only two volumes of contemporary Frenchscholars. There were also the laborious theses of Berlioux[3] and ofSchirmer. [4]

[Footnote 3: Doctrina Ptolemaei ab injuria recentiorum vindicata, siveNilus Superior et Niger verus, hodiernus Eghiren, ab anitiquisexplorati. Paris, 8vo, 1874, with two maps. (Note by M. Leroux. )]

[Footnote 4: De nomine et genere popularum qui berberi vulgo dicuntur. Paris, 8vo, 1892. (Note by M. Leroux. )]

While I proceeded to make piles of as similar dimensions as possible Ikept saying to myself:

"To think that I have been believing all this time that in his missionwith Morhange, Saint-Avit was particularly concerned in scientificobservations. Either my memory deceives me strangely or he is riding ahorse of another color. What is sure is that there is nothing for mein the midst of all this chaos. "

He must have read on my face the signs of too apparently expressedsurprise, for he said in a tone in which I divined a tinge ofdefiance:

"The choice of these books surprises you a bit?"

"I can't say it surprises me, " I replied, "since I don't know thenature of the work for which you have collected them. In any case Idare say, without fear of being contradicted, that never before hasofficer of the Arabian Office possessed a library in which thehumanities were so, well represented. "

He smiled evasively, and that day we pursued the subject no further. 

Among Saint-Avit's books I had noticed a voluminous notebook securedby a strong lock. Several times I surprised him in the act of makingnotations in it. When for any reason he was called out of the room heplaced his album carefully in a small cabinet of white wood, providedby the munificence of the Administration. When he was not writing andthe office did not require his presence, he had the mehari which hehad brought with him saddled, and a few minutes later, from theterrace of the fortifications, I could see the double silhouettedisappearing with great strides behind a hummock of red earth on thehorizon. 

Each time these trips lasted longer. From each he returned in a kindof exaltation which made me watch him with daily increasingdisquietude during meal hours, the only time we passed quite alonetogether. 

"Well, " I said to myself one day when his remarks had been morelacking in sequence than usual, "it's no fun being aboard a submarinewhen the captain takes opium. What drug can this fellow be taking, anyway?"

Next day I looked hurriedly through my comrade's drawers. Thisinspection, which I believed to be my duty, reassured me momentarily. "All very good, " I thought, "provided he does not carry with him hiscapsules and his Pravaz syringe. "

I was still in that stage where I could suppose that André'simagination needed artificial stimulants. 

Meticulous observation undeceived me. There was nothing suspicious inthis respect. Moreover, he rarely drank and almost never smoked. 

And nevertheless, there was no means of denying the increase of hisdisquieting feverishness. He returned from his expeditions each timewith his eyes more brilliant. He was paler, more animated, moreirritable. 

One evening he left the post about six o'clock, at the end of thegreatest heat of the day. We waited for him all night. My anxiety wasall the stronger because quite recently caravans had brought tidingsof bands of robbers in the neighborhood of the post. 

At dawn he had not returned. He did not come before midday. His camelcollapsed under him, rather than knelt. 

He realized that he must excuse himself, but he waited till we werealone at lunch. 

"I am so sorry to have caused you any anxiety. But the dunes were sobeautiful under the moon! I let myself be carried farther andfarther. .. . "

"I have no reproaches to make, dear fellow, you are free, and thechief here. Only allow me to recall to you certain warnings concerningthe Chaamba brigands, and the misfortunes that might arise from aCommandant of a post absenting himself too long. "

He smiled. 

"I don't dislike such evidence of a good memory, " he said simply. 

He was in excellent, too excellent spirits. 

"Don't blame me. I set out for a short ride as usual. Then, the moonrose. And then, I recognized the country. It is just where, twentyyears ago next November, Flatters followed the way to his destiny inan exaltation which the certainty of not returning made keener andmore intense. "

"Strange state of mind for a chief of an expedition, " I murmured. 

"Say nothing against Flatters. No man ever loved the desert as hedid . .. Even to dying of it. "

"Palat and Douls, among many others, have loved it as much, " Ianswered. "But they were alone when they exposed themselves to it. Responsible only for their own lives, they were free. Flatters, on theother hand, was responsible for sixty lives. And you cannot deny thathe allowed his whole party to be massacred. "

The words were hardly out of my lips before I regretted them, Ithought of Chatelain's story, of the officers' club at Sfax, wherethey avoided like the plague any kind of conversation which might leadtheir thoughts toward a certain Morhange-Saint-Avit mission. 

Happily I observed that my companion was not listening. His brillianteyes were far away. 

"What was your first garrison?" he asked suddenly. 

"Auxonne. "

He gave an unnatural laugh. 

"Auxonne. Province of the Cote d'Or. District of Dijon. Six thousandinhabitants. P. L. M. Railway. Drill school and review. The Colonel'swife receives Thursdays, and the Major's on Saturdays. Leaves everySunday, --the first of the month to Paris, the three others to Dijon. That explains your Judgment of Flatters. 

"For my part, my dear fellow, my first garrison was at Boghar. Iarrived there one morning in October, a second lieutenant, agedtwenty, of the First African Batallion, the white chevron on my blacksleeve. .. . Sun stripe, as the _bagnards_ say in speaking of theirgrades. Boghar! Two days before, from the bridge of the steamer, I hadbegun to see the shores of Africa. I pity all those who, when they seethose pale cliffs for the first time, do not feel a great leap attheir hearts, at the thought that this land prolongs itself thousandsand thousands of leagues. .. . I was little more than a child, I hadplenty of money. I was ahead of schedule. I could have stopped threeor four days at Algiers to amuse myself. Instead I took the train thatsame evening for Berroughia. 

"There, scarcely a hundred kilometers from Algiers, the railwaystopped. Going in a straight line you won't find another until you getto the Cape. The diligence travels at night on account of the heat. When we came to the hills I got out and walked beside the carriage, straining for the sensation, in this new atmosphere, of the kiss ofthe outlying desert. 

"About midnight, at the Camp of the Zouaves, a humble post on the roadembankment, overlooking a dry valley whence rose the feverish perfumeof oleander, we changed horses. They had there a troop of convicts andimpressed laborers, under escort of riflemen and convoys to thequarries in the South. In part, rogues in uniform, from the jails ofAlgiers and Douara, --without arms, of course; the otherscivilians--such civilians! this year's recruits, the young bullies ofthe Chapelle and the Goutte-d'Or. 

"They left before we did. Then the diligence caught up with them. Froma distance I saw in a pool of moonlight on the yellow road the blackirregular mass of the convoy. Then I heard a weary dirge; the wretcheswere singing. One, in a sad and gutteral voice, gave the couplet, which trailed dismally through the depths of the blue ravines:

"'_Maintenant qu'elle est grande, Elle fait le trottoir, Avec ceux de la bande A Richard-Lenoir_. '

"And the others took up in chorus the horrible refrain:

"'_A la Bastille, a la Bastille, On aime bien, on aime bien Nini Peau d'Chien; Elle est si belle et si gentille A la Bastille_'

"I saw them all in contrast to myself when the diligence passed them. They were terrible. Under the hideous searchlight their eyes shonewith a sombre fire in their pale and shaven faces. The burning duststrangled their raucous voices in their throats. A frightful sadnesstook possession of me. 

"When the diligence had left this fearful nightmare behind, I regainedmy self-control. 

"'Further, much further South, ' I exclaimed to myself, 'to the placesuntouched by this miserable bilgewater of civilization. '

"When I am weary, when I have a moment of anguish and longing to turnback on the road that I have chosen, I think of the prisoners ofBerroughia, and then I am glad to continue on my way. 

"But what a reward, when I am in one of those places where the pooranimals never think of fleeing because they have never seen man, wherethe desert stretches out around me so widely that the old world couldcrumble, and never a single ripple on the dune, a single cloud in thewhite sky come to warn me. 

"'It is true, ' I murmured. 'I, too, once, in the middle of the desert, at Tidi-Kelt, I felt that way. '"

Up to that time I had let him enjoy his exaltations withoutinterruption. I understood too late the error that I had made inpronouncing that unfortunate sentence. 

His mocking nervous laughter began anew. 

"Ah! Indeed, at Tidi-Kelt? I beg you, old man, in your own interest, if you don't want to make an ass of yourself, avoid that species ofreminiscence. Honestly, you make me think of Fromentin, or that poorMaupassant, who talked of the desert because he had been to Djelfa, two days' journey from the street of Bab-Azound and the Governmentbuildings, four days from the Avenue de l'Opera;--and who, because hesaw a poor devil of a camel dying near Bou-Saada, believed himself inthe heart of the desert, on the old route of the caravans. .. . Tidi-Kelt, the desert!"

"It seems to me, however, that In-Salah--" I said, a little vexed. 

"In-Salah? Tidi-Kelt! But, my poor friend, the last time that I passedthat way there were as many old newspapers and empty sardine boxes asif it had been Sunday in the Wood of Vincennes. "

Such a determined, such an evident desire to annoy me made me forgetmy reserve. 

"Evidently, " I replied resentfully, "I have never been to--"

I stopped myself, but it was already too late. 

He looked at me, squarely in the face. 

"To where?" he said with good humor. 

I did not answer. 

"To where?" he repeated. 

And, as I remained strangled in my muteness:

"To Wadi Tarhit, do you mean?"

It was on the east bank of Wadi Tarhit, a hundred and twentykilometers from Timissao, at 25. 5 degrees north latitude, according tothe official report, that Captain Morhange was buried. 

"André, " I cried stupidly, "I swear to you--"

"What do you swear to me?"

"That I never meant--"

"To speak of Wadi Tarhit? Why? Why should you not speak to me of WadiTarhit?"

In answer to my supplicating silence, he merely shrugged hisshoulders. 

"Idiot, " was all he said. 

And he left me before I could think of even one word to say. 

So much humility on my part had, however, not disarmed him. I had theproof of it the next day, and the way he showed his humor was evenmarked by an exhibition of wretchedly poor taste. 

I was just out of bed when he came into my room. 

"Can you tell me what is the meaning of this?" he demanded. 

He had in his hand one of the official registers. In his nervouscrises he always began sorting them over, in the hope of finding somepretext for making himself militarily insupportable. 

This time chance had favored him. 

He opened the register. I blushed violently at seeing the poor proofof a photograph that I knew well. 

"What is that?" he repeated disdainfully. 

Too often I had surprised him in the act of regarding, none tookindly, the portrait of Mlle. De C. Which hung in my room not to beconvinced at that moment that he was trying to pick a quarrel with me. 

I controlled myself, however, and placed the poor little print in thedrawer. 

But my calmness did not pacify him. 

"Henceforth, " he said, "take care, I beg you, not to mix mementoes ofyour gallantry with the official papers. "

He added, with a smile that spoke insult:

"It isn't necessary to furnish objects of excitation to Gourrut. "

"André, " I said, and I was white, "I demand--"

He stood up to the full height of his stature. 

"Well what is it? A gallantry, nothing more. I have authorized you tospeak of Wadi Halfa, haven't I? Then I have the right, I shouldthink--"

"André!"

Now he was looking maliciously at the wall, at the little portrait thereplica of which I had just subjected to this painful scene. 

"There, there, I say, you aren't angry, are you? But between ourselvesyou will admit, will you not, that she is a little thin?"

And before I could find time to answer him, he had removed himself, humming the shameful refrain of the previous night:

"_A la Bastille, a la Bastille, On aime bien, on aime bien, Nini, Peau de Chien_. "

For three days neither of us spoke to the other. My exasperation wastoo deep for words. Was I, then, to be held responsible for hisavatars! Was it my fault if, between two phrases, one seemed alwayssome allusion--

"The situation is intolerable, " I said to myself. "It cannot lastlonger. "

It was to cease very soon. 

One week after the scene of the photograph the courier arrived. I hadscarcely glanced at the index of the _Zeitschrift_, the German reviewof which I have already spoken, when I started with uncontrollableamazement. I had just read: _"Reise und Entdeckungen zweifronzosischer offiziere, Rittmeisters Morhange und Oberleutnants deSaint-Avit, in westlichen Sahara. "_

At the same time I heard my comrade's voice. 

"Anything interesting in this number?"

"No, " I answered carelessly. 

"Let's see. "

I obeyed; what else was there to do?

It seemed to me that he grew paler as he ran over the index. However, his tone was altogether natural when he said:

"You will let me borrow it, of course?"

And he went out, casting me one defiant glance. 

 * * * * *

The day passed slowly. I did not see him again until evening. He wasgay, very gay, and his gaiety hurt me. 

When we had finished dinner, we went out and leaned on the balustradeof the terrace. From there out swept the desert, which the darknesswas already encroaching upon from the east. 

André broke the silence. 

"By the way, I have returned your review to you. You were right, it isnot interesting. "

His expression was one of supreme amusement. 

"What is it, what is the matter with you, anyway?"

"Nothing, " I answered, my throat aching. 

"Nothing? Shall I tell you what is the matter with you?"

I looked at him with an expression of supplication. 

"Idiot, " he found it necessary to repeat once more. 

Night fell quickly. Only the southern slope of Wadi Mia was stillyellow. Among the boulders a little jackal was running about, yappingsharply. 

"The _dib_ is making a fuss about nothing, bad business, " saidSaint-Avit. 

He continued pitilessly:

"Then you aren't willing to say anything?"

I made a great effort, to produce the following pitiful phrase:

"What an exhausting day. What a night, heavy, heavy--You don't feellike yourself, you don't know any more--"

"Yes, " said the voice of Saint-Avit, as from a distance, "A heavy, heavy night: as heavy, do you know, as when I killed CaptainMorhange. "

III

THE MORHANGE-SAINT-AVIT MISSION

"So I killed Captain Morhange, " André de Saint-Avit said to me thenext day, at the same time, in the same place, with a calm that tookno account of the night, the frightful night I had just been through. "Why do I tell you this? I don't know in the least. Because of thedesert, perhaps. Are you a man capable of enduring the weight of thatconfidence, and further, if necessary, of assuming the consequences itmay bring? I don't know that, either. The future will decide. For thepresent there is only one thing certain, the fact, I tell you again, that I killed Captain Morhange. 

"I killed him. And, since you want me to specify the reason, youunderstand that I am not going to torture my brain to turn it into aromance for you, or commence by recounting in the naturalistic mannerof what stuff my first trousers were made, or, as the neo-Catholicswould have it, how often I went as a child to confession, and how muchI liked doing it. I have no taste for useless exhibitions. You willfind that this recital begins strictly at the time when I metMorhange. 

"And first of all, I tell you, however much it has cost my peace ofmind and my reputation, I do not regret having known him. In a word, apart from all question of false friendship, I am convicted of a blackingratitude in having killed him. It is to him, it is to his knowledgeof rock inscriptions, that I owe the only thing that has raised mylife in interest above the miserable little lives dragged out by mycompanions at Auxonne, and elsewhere. 

"This being understood, here are the facts:"

[NOTE: From this point on begins an extended narrative;indeed it may be most of the remaining book. I was changing the quoting, until I reached the endof the chapter and found that it continued on from there. ]

It was in the Arabian Office at Wargla, when I was a lieutenant, thatI first heard the name, Morhange. And I must add that it was for methe occasion of an attack of bad humor. We were having difficulttimes. The hostility of the Sultan of Morocco was latent. At Touat, where the assassination of Flatters and of Frescaly had already beenconcocted, connivance was being given to the plots of our enemies. Touat was the center of conspiracies, of razzias, of defections, andat the same time, the depot of supply for the insatiable nomads. TheGovernors of Algeria, Tirman, Cambon, Laferriere, demanded itsoccupation. The Ministers of War tacitly agreed. .. . But there wasParliament, which did nothing at all, because of England, because ofGermany, and above all because of a certain _Declaration of the Rightsof Man and of the Citizen_, which prescribed that insurrection is themost sacred of duties, even when the insurgents are savages who cutyour head off. In short, the military authority could only, at its owndiscretion, increase the southern garrisons, and establish new posts;this one, Berresof, Hassi-el-Mia, Fort MacMahon, Fort Lallemand, FortMiribel. .. . But as Castries puts it, you don't hold the nomads withbordjs, you hold them by the belt. The middle was the oasis of Touat. Their honors, the lawyers of Paris, had to be convinced of thenecessity of taking possession of the oasis of Touat. The best waywould be to present them with a faithful picture of the plots thatwere being woven there against us. 

The principal authors were, and still are, the Senoussis, whose ablechief has been forced by our arms to transfer the seat of hisconfederation several thousand leagues from there, to Schimmedrou, inthe Tibesti. They had, I say _they_ through modesty, the idea ofascertaining the traces left by these agitators on their favoriteplaces of concourse; Rhât, Temassinin, the plain of Adejamor, andIn-Salah. It was, you see, at least after leaving Temassinin, practically the same itinerary as that followed in 1864 by GeneralRohlfs. 

I had already attracted some attention by two excursions, one toAgadès, and the other to Bilma, and was considered by the staffofficers to be one of the best informed on the Senoussis question. Iwas therefore selected to assume this new task. 

I then suggested that it would be of interest to kill two birds withone stone, and to get, in passing, an idea of the northern Ahaggar, soas to make sure whether the Tuaregs of Ahitarhen had continued to haveas cordial relations with the Senoussis as they had had when theycombined to massacre the Flatters' mission. I was immediately accordedthe permission. The change in my first plan was as follows: Afterreaching Ighelaschem, six hundred kilometers south of Temassinin, instead of taking the direct road to Touat via Rhât, I would, penetrating between the high land of Mouydir and Ahaggar, strike offto the southwest as far as Shikh-Salah. Here I would turn againnorthwards, towards In-Salah, by the road to the Soudan and Agadès. Inall hardly eight kilometers additional in a trip of about sevenhundred leagues, with the certainty of making as complete anexamination as possible of the roads which our enemies, the Senoussisof Tibesti and the Tuareg of the Ahaggar, must follow to arrive atTouat. On the way, for every explorer has his pet fancy, I was not atall displeased to think that I would have a chance to examine thegeological formation of the plateau of Egere, about which Duveyrierand the others are so disappointingly indefinite. 

Everything was ready for my departure from Wargla. Everything, whichis to say, very little. Three mehara: mine, my companion Bou-Djema's(a faithful Chaamba, whom I had had with me in my wanderings throughthe Air, less of a guide in the country I was familiar with than amachine for saddling and unsaddling camels), then a third to carryprovisions and skins of drinking water, very little, since I had takenpains to locate the stops with reference to the wells. 

Some people go equipped for this kind of expedition with a hundredregulars, and even cannon. I am for the tradition of Douls and RenéCallie, I go alone. 

I was at that perfect moment when only one thin thread still held meto the civilized world when an official cable arrived at Wargla. 

"Lieutenant de Saint-Avit, " it said briefly, "will delay his departureuntil the arrival of Captain Morhange, who will accompany him on hisexpedition of exploration. "

I was more than disappointed. I alone had had the idea of thisexpedition. I had had all the difficulty that you can imagine to makethe authorities agree to it. And now when I was rejoicing at the ideaof the long hours I would spend alone with myself in the heart of thedesert, they sent me a stranger, and, to make matters worse, asuperior. 

The condolences of my comrades aggravated my bad humor. 

The Yearly Report, consulted on the spot, had given them the followinginformation:

"Morhange (Jean-Marie-François), class of 1881. Breveted. Captain, unassigned. (Topographical Service of the Army. )"

"There is the explanation for you, " said one. "They are sending one oftheir creatures to pull the chestnuts out of the fire, after you havehad all the trouble of making it. Breveted! That's a great way. Thetheories of Ardant du Picq or else nothing about here. "

"I don't altogether agree with you, " said the Major. "They knew inParliament, for some one is always indiscreet, the real aim ofSaint-Avit's mission: to force their hand for the occupation of Touat. And this Morhange must be a man serving the interests of the ArmyCommission. All these people, secretaries, members of Parliament, governors, keep a close watch on each other. Some one will write anamusing paradoxical history some day, of the French ColonialExpansion, which is made without the knowledge of the powers inoffice, when it is not actually in spite of them. "

"Whatever the reason, the result will be the same, " I said bitterly;"we will be two Frenchmen to spy on each other night and day, alongthe roads to the south. An amiable prospect when one has none too muchtime to foil all the tricks of the natives. When does he arrive?"

"Day after tomorrow, probably. I have news of a convoy coming fromGhardaia. It is likely that he will avail himself of it. Theindications are that he doesn't know very much about traveling alone. "

Captain Morhange did arrive in fact two days later by means of theconvoy from Ghardaia. I was the first person for whom he asked. 

When he came to my room, whither I had withdrawn in dignity as soon asthe convoy was sighted, I was disagreeably surprised to foresee that Iwould have great difficulty in preserving my prejudice against him. 

He was tall, his face full and ruddy, with laughing blue eyes, a smallblack moustache, and hair that was already white. 

"I have a thousand apologies to make to you, my dear fellow, " he saidimmediately, with a frankness that I have never seen in any other man. "You must be furious with my importunity in upsetting your plans anddelaying your departure. "

"By no means, Captain, " I replied coolly. 

"You really have only yourself to blame. It is on account of yourknowledge of the southern, routes, so highly esteemed at Paris, that Iwished to have you to initiate me when the Ministries of Instructionand of Commerce, and the Geographical Society combined to charge mewith the mission which brings me here. These three honorableinstitutions have in fact entrusted me with the attempt tore-establish the ancient track of the caravans, which, from the ninthcentury, trafficked between Tunis and the Soudan, by Toweur, Wargla, Es-Souk and the bend of the Bourroum; and to study the possibility ofrestoring this route to its ancient splendor. At the same time, at theGeographic Bureau, I heard of the journey that you are undertaking. From Wargla to Shikh-Salah our two itineraries are the same. Only Imust admit to you that it is the first voyage of this kind that I haveever undertaken. I would not be afraid to hold forth for an hour onArabian literature in the amphitheatre of the School of OrientalLanguages, but I know well enough that in the desert I should have toask for directions whether to turn right or left. This is the onlychance which could give me such an opportunity, and at the same timeput me under obligation for this introduction to so charming acompanion. You must not blame me if I seized it, if I used all myinfluence to retard your departure from Wargla until the instant whenI could join you. I have only one more word to add to what I havesaid. I am entrusted with a mission which by its origin is renderedessentially civilian. You are sent out by the Ministry of War. Up tothe moment when, arrived at Shikh-Salah we turn our backs on eachother to attain, you Touat, and I the Niger, all your recommendations, all your orders, will be followed by a subaltern, and, I hope, by afriend as well. "

All the time he was talking so openly I felt delightedly my worstrecent fears melting away. Nevertheless, I still experienced a meandesire to show him some marks of reserve, for having thus disposed ofmy company at a distance, without consulting me. 

"I am very grateful to you, Captain, for your extremely flatteringwords. When do you wish to leave Wargla?"

He made a gesture of complete detachment. 

"Whenever you like. Tomorrow, this evening. I have already delayedyou. Your preparations must have already been made for some time. "

My little maneuver had turned against myself. I had not been countingon leaving before the next week. 

"Tomorrow, Captain, but your luggage?"

He smiled delightfully. 

"I thought it best to bring as little as possible. A light pack, somepapers. My brave camel had no difficulty in bringing it along. For therest I depend on your advice, and the resources of Owargla. "

I was well caught. I had nothing further to say. And moreover, suchfreedom of spirit and manner had already captivated me. 

"It seems, " said my comrades, when the time for aperitives had broughtus all together again, "that this Captain of yours is a remarkablycharming fellow. "

"Remarkably. "

"You surely can't have any trouble with him. It is only up to you tosee that later on he doesn't get all the glory. "

"We aren't working with the same end in view, " I answered evasively. 

I was thoughtful, only thoughtful I give you my word. From that momentI harbored no further grudge against Morhange. Yet my silencepersuaded him that I was unforgiving. And everyone, do you hear me, everyone said later on, when suspicions became rife:

"He is surely guilty. We saw them go off together. We can affirm it. "

I am guilty. .. . But for a low motive of jealousy. .. . How sickening. .. . 

After that, there was nothing to do but to flee, flee, as far as theplaces where there are no more men who think and reason. 

Morhange, appeared, his arm resting on the Major's, who was beamingover this new acquaintanceship. 

He presented him enthusiastically:

"Captain Morhange, gentlemen. An officer of the old school, and a manafter our own hearts, I give you my word. He wants to leave tomorrow, but we must give him such a reception that he will forget that ideabefore two days are up. Come, Captain, you have at least eight days togive us. "

"I am at the disposition of Lieutenant de Saint-Avit, " repliedMorhange, with a quiet smile. 

The conversation became general. The sound of glasses and laughterrang out. I heard my comrades in ecstasies over the stories that thenewcomer poured out with never-failing humor. And I, never, never haveI felt so sad. 

The time came to pass into the dining-room. 

"At my right, Captain, " cried the Major, more and more beaming. "And Ihope you will keep on giving us these new lines on Paris. We are notup with the times here, you know. "

"Yours to command, Major, " said Morhange. 

"Be seated, gentlemen. "

The officers obeyed, with a joyous clatter of moving chairs. I had nottaken my eyes off Morhange, who was still standing. 

"Major, gentlemen, you will allow me, " he said. 

And before sitting down at that table, where every moment he was thelife of the party, in a low voice, with his eyes closed, CaptainMorhange recited the Benedicite. 

IV

TOWARDS LATITUDE 25

"You see, " said Captain Morhange to me fifteen days later, "you aremuch better informed about the ancient routes through the Sahara thanyou have been willing to let me suppose, since you know of theexistence of the two Tadekkas. But the one of which you have justspoken is the Tadekka of Ibn-Batoutah, located by this historianseventy days from Touat, and placed by Schirmer, very plausibly, inthe unexplored territory of the Aouelimmiden. This is the Tadekka bywhich the Sonrhaï caravans passed every year, travelling by Egypt. 

"My Tadekka is different, the capital of the veiled people, placed byIbn-Khaldoun twenty days south of Wargla, which he calls Tadmekka. Itis towards this Tadmekka that I am headed. I must establish Tadmekkain the ruins of Es-Souk. The commercial trade route, which in theninth century bound the Tunisian Djerid to the bend the Niger makes atBourroum, passed by Es-Souk. It is to study the possibility ofreestablishing this ancient thoroughfare that the Ministries gave methis mission, which has given me the pleasure of your companionship. "

"You are probably in for a disappointment, " I said. "Everythingindicates that the commerce there is very slight. "

"Well, I shall see, " he answered composedly. 

This was while we were following the unicolored banks of a salt lake. The great saline stretch shone pale-blue, under the rising sun. Thelegs of our five mehara cast on it their moving shadows of a darkerblue. For a moment the only inhabitant of these solitudes, a bird, akind of indeterminate heron, rose and hung in the air, as ifsuspended from a thread, only to sink back to rest as soon as we hadpassed. 

I led the way, selecting the route, Morhange followed. Enveloped in abernous, his head covered with the straight _chechia_ of the Spahis, agreat chaplet of alternate red and white beads, ending in a cross, around his neck, he realized perfectly the ideal of Father Lavigerie'sWhite Fathers. 

After a two-days' halt at Temassinin we had just left the roadfollowed by Flatters, and taken an oblique course to the south. I havethe honor of having antedated Fourcau in demonstrating the importanceof Temassinin as a geometrical point for the passage of caravans, andof selecting the place where Captain Pein has just now constructed afort. The junction for the roads that lead to Touat from Fezzan andTibesti, Temassinin is the future seat of a marvellous IntelligenceDepartment. What I had collected there in two days about thedisposition of our Senoussis enemies was of importance. I noticed thatMorhange let me proceed with my inquiries with complete indifference. 

These two days he had passed in conversation with the old Negroguardian of the turbet, which preserves, under its plaster dome, theremains of the venerated Sidi-Moussa. The confidences they exchanged, I am sorry to say that I have forgotten. But from the Negro's amazedadmiration, I realized the ignorance in which I stood to the mysteriesof the desert, and how familiar they were to my companion. 

And if you want to get any idea of the extraordinary originality whichMorhange introduced into such surroundings, you who, after all, have acertain familiarity with the tropics, listen to this. It was exactlytwo hundred kilometers from here, in the vicinity of the Great Dune, in that horrible stretch of six days without water. We had just enoughfor two days before reaching the next well, and you know these wells;as Flatters wrote to his wife, "you have to work for hours before youcan clean them out and succeed in watering beasts and men. " By chancewe met a caravan there, which was going east towards Rhadamès, and hadcome too far north. The camels' humps, shrunken and shaking, bespokethe sufferings of the troop. Behind came a little gray ass, a pitifulburrow, interfering at every step, and lightened of its pack becausethe merchants knew that it was going to die. Instinctively, with itslast strength, it followed, knowing that when it could stagger nolonger, the end would come and the flutter of the bald vultures'wings. I love animals, which I have solid reasons for preferring tomen. But never should I have thought of doing what Morhange did then. I tell you that our water skins were almost dry, and that our owncamels, without which one is lost in the empty desert, had not beenwatered for many hours. Morhange made his kneel, uncocked a skin, andmade the little ass drink. I certainly felt gratification at seeingthe poor bare flanks of the miserable beast pant with satisfaction. Butthe responsibility was mine. Also I had seen Bou-Djema's aghastexpression, and the disapproval of the thirsty members of the caravan. I remarked on it. How it was received! "What have I given, " repliedMorhange, "was my own. We will reach El-Biodh to-morrow evening, aboutsix o'clock. Between here and there I know that I shall not bethirsty. " And that in a tone, in which for the first time he allowedthe authority of a Captain to speak. "That is easy to say, " I thought, ill-humoredly. "He knows that when he wants them, my water-skin, andBou-Djema's, are at his service. " But I did not yet know Morhange verywell, and it is true that until the evening of the next day when wereached El-Biodh, refusing our offers with smiling determination, hedrank nothing. 

Shades of St. Francis of Assisi! Umbrian hills, so pure under therising sun! It was in the light of a like sunrise, by the border of apale stream leaping in full cascades from a crescent-shaped niche ofthe gray rocks of Egere, that Morhange stopped. The unlooked forwaters rolled upon the sand, and we saw, in the light which mirroredthem, little black fish. Fish in the middle of the Sahara! All threeof us were mute before this paradox of Nature. One of them had strayedinto a little channel of sand. He had to stay there, struggling invain, his little white belly exposed to the air. .. . Morhange pickedhim up, looked at him for a moment, and put him back into the littlestream. Shades of St. Francis. Umbrian hills. .. . But I have sworn notto break the thread of the story by these untimely digressions. 

 * * * * *

"You see, " Captain Morhange said to me a week later, "that I was rightin advising you to go farther south before making for Shikh-Salah. Something told me that this highland of Egere was not interesting fromyour point of view. While here you have only to stoop to pick uppebbles which will allow you to establish the volcanic origin of thisregion much more certainly than Bou-Derba, des Cloizeaux, and DoctorMarrés have done. "

This was while we were following the western pass of the TidifestMountains, about the 25th degree of northern latitude. 

"I should indeed be ungrateful not to thank you, " I said. 

I shall always remember that instant. We had left our camels and werecollecting fragments of the most characteristic rocks. Morhangeemployed himself with a discernment which spoke worlds for hisknowledge of geology, a science he had often professed completeignorance of. 

Then I asked him the following question:

"May I prove my gratitude by making you a confession?"

He raised his head and looked at me. 

"Well then, I don't see the practical value of this trip you haveundertaken. "

He smiled. 

"Why not? To explore the old caravan route, to demonstrate that aconnection has existed from the most ancient times between theMediterranean world, and the country of the Blacks, that seems nothingin your eyes? The hope of settling once for all the secular disputeswhich have divided so many keen minds; d'Anville, Heeren, Berlioux, Quatremere on the one hand, --on the other Gosselin, Walckenaer, Tissit, Vivien, de saint-Martin; you think that that is devoid ofinterest? A plague upon you for being hard to please. "

"I spoke of practical value, " I said. "You won't deny that thiscontroversy is only the affair of cabinet geographers and officeexplorers. "

Morhange kept on smiling. 

"Dear friend, don't wither me. Deign to recall that your mission wasconfided to you by the Ministry of War, while I hold mine on behalf ofthe Ministry of Public Instruction. A different origin justifies ourdifferent aims. It certainly explains, I readily concede that to you, why what I am in search of has no practical value. "

"You are also authorized by the Ministry of Commerce, " I replied, playing my next card. "By this chief you are instructed to study thepossibility of restoring the old trade route of the ninth century. Buton this point don't attempt to mislead me; with your knowledge of thehistory and geography of the Sahara, your mind must have been made upbefore you left Paris. The road from Djerid to the Niger is dead, stone dead. You knew that no important traffic would pass by thisroute before you undertook to study the possibility of restoring it. "

Morhange looked me full in the face. 

"And if that should be so, " he said with the most charming attitude, "if I had before leaving the conviction you say, what do you concludefrom that?"

"I should prefer to have you tell me. "

"Simply, my dear boy, that I had less skill than you in finding thepretext for my voyage, that I furnished less good reasons for the truemotives that brought me here. "

"A pretext? I don't see. .. . "

"Be sincere in your turn, if you please. I am sure that you have thegreatest desire to inform the Arabian Office about the practices ofthe Senoussis. But admit that the information that you will obtain isnot the sole and innermost aim of your excursion. You are a geologist, my friend. You have found a chance to gratify your taste in this trip. No one would think of blaming you because you have known how toreconcile what is useful to your country and agreeable to yourself. But, for the love of God, don't deny it; I need no other proof thanyour presence here on this side of the Tidifest, a very curious placefrom a mineralogical point of view, but some hundred and fiftykilometers south of your official route. "

It was not possible to have countered me with a better grace. Iparried by attacking. 

"Am I to conclude from all this that I do not know the real aims ofyour trip, and that they have nothing to do with the officialmotives?"

I had gone a bit too far. I felt it from the seriousness with whichMorhange's reply was delivered. 

"No, my dear friend, you must not conclude just that. I should have notaste for a lie which was based on fraud towards the estimableconstitutional bodies which have judged me worthy of their confidenceand their support. The ends that they have assigned to me I shall domy best to attain. But I have no reason for hiding from you that thereis another, quite personal, which is far nearer to my heart. Let ussay, if you will, to use a terminology that is otherwise deplorable, that this is the end while the others are the means. "

"Would there be any indiscretion?. .. . "

"None, " replied my companion. "Shikh-Salah is only a few days distant. He whose first steps you have guided with such solicitude in thedesert should have nothing hidden from you. "

We had halted in the valley of a little dry well where a few sicklyplants were growing. A spring near by was circled by a crown of grayverdure. The camels had been unsaddled for the night, and were seekingvainly, at every stride, to nibble the spiny tufts of _had_. The blackand polished sides of the Tidifest Mountains rose, almost vertically, above our heads. Already the blue smoke of the fire on which Bou-Djemawas cooking dinner rose through the motionless air. 

Not a sound, not a breath. The smoke mounted straight, straight andslowly up the pale steps of the firmament. 

"Have you ever heard of the _Atlas of Christianity_?" asked Morhange. 

"I think so. Isn't it a geographical work published by theBenedictines under the direction of a certain Dom Granger?"

"Your memory is correct, " said Morhange. "Even so let me explain alittle more fully some of the things you have not had as much reasonas I to interest yourself in. The _Atlas of Christianity_ proposes toestablish the boundaries of that great tide of Christianity throughall the ages, and for all parts of the globe. An undertaking worthy ofthe Benedictine learning, worthy of such a prodigy of erudition asDom Granger himself. "

"And it is these boundaries that you have come to determine here, nodoubt, " I murmured. 

"Just so, " replied my companion. 

He was silent, and I respected his silence, prepared by now to beastonished at nothing. 

"It is not possible to give confidences by halves, without beingridiculous, " he continued after several minutes of meditation, speaking gravely, in a voice which held no suggestion of that flashinghumor which had a month before enchanted the young officers at Wargla. "I have begun on mine. I will tell you everything. Trust mydiscretion, however, and do not insist upon certain events of myprivate life. If, four years ago, at the close of these events, Iresolve to enter a monastery, it does not concern you to know myreasons. I can marvel at it myself, that the passage in my life of abeing absolutely devoid of interest should have sufficed to change thecurrent of that life. I can marvel that a creature whose sole meritwas her beauty should have been permitted by the Creator to swing mydestiny to such an unforeseen direction. The monastery at whose doorsI knocked had the most valid reasons for doubting the stability of myvocation. What the world loses in such fashion it often calls back asreadily. In short, I cannot blame the Father Abbot for havingforbidden me to apply for my army discharge. By his instructions, Iasked for, and obtained, permission to be placed on the inactive listfor three years. At the end of those three years of consecration itwould be seen whether the world was definitely dead to your servant. 

"The first day of my arrival at the cloister I was assigned to DomGranger, and placed by him at work on the _Atlas of Christianity_. Abrief examination decided him as to what kind of service I was bestfitted to render. This is how I came to enter the studio devoted tothe cartography of Northern Africa. I did not know one word of Arabic, but it happened that in garrison at Lyon I had taken at the _Facultédes Lettres, _ a course with Berlioux, --a very erudite geographer nodoubt, but obsessed by one idea, the influence the Greek and Romancivilizations had exercised on Africa. This detail of my life wasenough for Dom Granger. He provided me straightway with Berbervocabularies by Venture, by Delaporte, by Brosselard; with the_Grammatical Sketch of the Temahaq_ by Stanley Fleeman, and the _Essaide Grammaire de la langue Temachek_ by Major Hanoteau. At the end ofthree months I was able to decipher any inscriptions in Tifinar. Youknow that Tifinar is the national writing of the Tuareg, theexpression of this Temachek language which seems to us the mostcurious protest of the Targui race against its Mohammedan enemies. 

"Dom Granger, in fact, believed that the Tuareg are Christians, datingfrom a period which it was necessary to ascertain, but which coincidedno doubt with the splendor of the church of Hippon. Even better thanI, you know that the cross is with them the symbol of fate indecoration. Duveyrier has claimed that it figures in their alphabet, on their arms, among the designs of their clothes. The only tattooingthat they wear on the forehead, on the back of the hand, is a crosswith four equal branches; the pummels of their saddles, the handles oftheir sabres, of their poignards, are cross-shaped. And is itnecessary to remind you that, although Islam forbids bells as a signof Christianity, the harness of Tuareg camels are trimmed with bells?

"Neither Dom Granger nor I attach an exaggerated importance to suchproofs, which resemble too much those which make such a display in the_Genius of Christianity. _ But it is indeed impossible to refuse allcredence to certain theological arguments. Amanai, the God of theTuareg, unquestionably the Adonai of the Bible, is unique. They have ahell, 'Timsi-tan-elekhaft, ' the last fire, where reigns Iblis, ourLucifer. Their Paradise, where they are rewarded for good deeds, isinhabited by 'andjelousen, ' our angels. And do not urge theresemblance of this theology to the Koran, for I will meet you withhistoric arguments and remind you that the Tuareg have struggled allthrough the ages at the cost of partial extermination, to maintaintheir faith against the encroachments of Mohammedan fanaticism. 

"Many times I have studied with Dom Granger that formidable epoch whenthe aborigines opposed the conquering Arabs. With him I have seen howthe army of Sidi-Okba, one of the companions of the Prophet, invadedthis desert to reduce the Tuareg tribes and impose on them Mussulmanrules. These tribes were then rich and prosperous. They were theIhbggaren, the Imededren, the Ouadelen, the Kel-Gueress, the Kel-Air. But internal quarrels sapped their strength. Still, it was not untilafter a long and cruel war that the Arabians succeeded in gettingpossession of the capital of the Berbers, which had proved such aredoubtable stronghold. They destroyed it after they had massacred theinhabitants. On the ruins Okba constructed a new city. This city isEs-Souk. The one that Sidi-Okba destroyed was the Berber Tadmekka. What Dom Granger asked of me was precisely that I should try to exhumefrom the ruins of the Mussulman Es-Souk the ruins of Tadmekka, whichwas Berber, and perhaps Christian. "

"I understand, " I murmured. 

"So far, so good, " said Morhange. "But what you must grasp now is thepractical sense of these religious men, my masters. You remember that, even after three years of monastic life, they preserved their doubtsas to the stability of my vocation. They found at the same time meansof testing it once for all, and of adapting official facilities totheir particular purposes. One morning I was called before the FatherAbbot, and this is what he said to me, in the presence of Dom Granger, who expressed silent approval. 

"'Your term of inactive service expires in fifteen days. You willreturn to Paris, and apply at the Ministry to be reinstated. With whatyou have learned here, and the relationships we have been able tomaintain at Headquarters, you will have no difficulty in beingattached to the Geographical Staff of the army. When you reach the ruede Grenelle you will receive our instructions. '

"I was astonished at their confidence in my knowledge. When I wasreestablished as Captain again in the Geographical Service Iunderstood. At the monastery, the daily association with Dom Grangerand his pupils had kept me constantly convinced of the inferiority ofmy knowledge. When I came in contact with my military brethren Irealized the superiority of the instruction I had received. I did nothave to concern myself with the details of my mission. The Ministriesinvited me to undertake it. My initiative asserted itself on only oneoccasion. When I learned that you were going to leave Wargla on thepresent expedition, having reason to distrust my practicalqualifications as an explorer, I did my best to retard your departure, so that I might join you. I hope that you have forgiven me by now. "

 * * * * *

The light in the west was fading, where the sun had already sunk intoa matchless luxury of violet draperies. We were alone in thisimmensity, at the feet of the rigid black rocks. Nothing butourselves. Nothing, nothing but ourselves. 

I held out my hand to Morhange, and he pressed it. Then he said:

"If they still seem infinitely long to me, the several thousandkilometers which separate me from the instant when, my taskaccomplished, I shall at last find oblivion in the cloister for thethings for which I was not made, let me tell you this;--the severalhundred kilometers which still separate us from Shikh-Salah seem to meinfinitely short to traverse in your company. "

On the pale water of the little pool, motionless and fixed like asilver nail, a star had just been born. 

"Shikh-Salah, " I murmured, my heart full of an indefinable sadness. "Patience, we are not there yet. "

In truth, we never were to be there. 

V

THE INSCRIPTION

With a blow of the tip of his cane Morhange knocked a fragment of rockfrom the black flank of the mountain. 

"What is it?" he asked, holding it out to me. 

"A basaltic peridot, " I said. 

"It can't be very interesting, you barely glanced at it. "

"It is very interesting, on the contrary. But, for the moment, I admitthat I am otherwise preoccupied. "

"How?"

"Look this way a bit, " I said, showing towards the west, on thehorizon, a black spot across the white plain. 

It was six o'clock in the morning. The sun had risen. But it could notbe found in the surprisingly polished air. And not a breath of air, not a breath. Suddenly one of the camels called. An enormous antelopehad just come in sight, and had stopped in its flight, terrified, racing the wall of rock. It stayed there at a little distance from us, dazed, trembling on its slender legs. 

Bou-Djema had rejoined us. 

"When the legs of the mohor tremble it is because the firmament isshaken, " he muttered. 

"A storm?"

"Yes, a storm. "

"And you find that alarming?"

I did not answer immediately. I was exchanging several brief wordswith Bou-Djema, who was occupied in soothing the camels which weregiving signs of being restive. 

Morhange repeated his question. I shrugged my shoulders. 

"Alarming? I don't know. I have never seen a storm on the Hoggar. ButI distrust it. And the signs are that this is going to be a big one. See there already. "

A slight dust had risen before the cliff. In the still air a fewgrains of sand had begun to whirl round and round, with a speed whichincreased to dizziness, giving us in advance the spectacle inminiature of what would soon be breaking upon us. 

With harsh cries a flock of wild geese appeared, flying low. They cameout of the west. 

"They are fleeing towards the Sebkha d'Amanghor, " said Bou-Djema. 

There could be no greater mistake, I thought. 

Morhange looked at me curiously. 

"What must we do?" he asked. 

"Mount our camels immediately, before they are completelydemoralized, and hurry to find shelter in some high places. Takeaccount of our situation. It is easy to follow the bed of a stream. But within a quarter of an hour perhaps the storm will have burst. Within a half hour a perfect torrent will be rushing here. On thissoil, which is almost impermeable, rain will roll like a pail of waterthrown on a bituminous pavement. No depth, all height. Look at this. "

And I showed him, a dozen meters high, long hollow gouges, marks offormer erosions on the rocky wall. 

"In an hour the waters will reach that height. Those are the marks ofthe last inundation. Let us get started. There is not an instant tolose. "

"All right, " Morhange replied tranquilly. 

We had the greatest difficulty to make the camels kneel. When we hadthrown ourselves into the saddle they started off at a pace whichtheir terror rendered more and more disorderly. 

Of a sudden the wind began, a formidable wind, and, almost at the sametime the light was eclipsed in the ravine. Above our heads the sky hadbecome, in the flash of an eye, darker than the walls of the canyonwhich we were descending at a breathless pace. 

"A path, a stairway in the wall, " I screamed against the wind to mycompanions. "If we don't find one in a minute we are lost. "

They did not hear me, but, turning in my saddle, I saw that they hadlost no distance, Morhange following me, and Bou-Djema in the reardriving the two baggage camels masterfully before him. 

A blinding streak of lightning rent the obscurity. A peal of thunder, re-echoed to infinity by the rocky wall, rang out, and immediatelygreat tepid drops began to fall. In an instant, our burnouses, whichhad been blown out behind by the speed with which we were traveling, were stuck tight to our streaming bodies. 

"Saved!" I exclaimed suddenly. 

Abruptly on our right a crevice opened in the midst of the wall. Itwas the almost perpendicular bed of a stream, an affluent of the onewe had had the unfortunate idea of following that morning. Already averitable torrent was gushing over it with a fine uproar. 

I have never better appreciated the incomparable sure-footedness ofcamels in the most precipitate places. Bracing themselves, stretchingout their great legs, balancing themselves among the rocks that werebeginning to be swept loose, our camels accomplished at that momentwhat the mules of the Pyrannees might have failed in. 

After several moments of superhuman effort we found ourselves at lastout of danger, on a kind of basaltic terrace, elevated some fiftymeters above the channel of the stream we had just left. Luck was withus; a little grotto opened out behind. Bou-Djema succeeded insheltering the camels there. From its threshold we had leisure tocontemplate in silence the prodigious spectacle spread out before us. 

You have, I believe, been at the Camp of Chalons for artillery drills. You have seen when the shell bursts how the chalky soil of the Marneeffervesces like the inkwells at school, when we used to throw a pieceof calcium carbonate into them. Well, it was almost like that, but inthe midst of the desert, in the midst of obscurity. The white watersrushed into the depths of the black hole, and rose and rose towardsthe pedestal on which we stood. And there was the uninterrupted noiseof thunder, and still louder, the sound of whole walls of rock, undermined by the flood, collapsing in a heap and dissolving in a fewseconds of time in the midst of the rising water. 

All the time that this deluge lasted, one hour, perhaps two, Morhangeand I stayed bending over this fantastic foaming vat; anxious to see, to see everything, to see in spite of everything; rejoicing with akind of ineffable horror when we felt the shelf of basalt on which wehad taken refuge swaying beneath us from the battering impact of thewater. I believe that never for an instant did we think, so beautifulit was, of wishing for the end of that gigantic nightmare. 

Finally a ray of the sun shone through. Only then did we look at eachother. 

Morhange held out his hand. 

"Thank you, " he said simply. 

And he added with a smile:

"To be drowned in the very middle of the Sahara would have beenpretentious and ridiculous. You have saved us, thanks to your power ofdecision, from this very paradoxical end. "

Ah, that he had been thrown by a misstep of his camel and rolled tohis death in the midst of the flood! Then what followed would neverhave happened. That is the thought that comes to me in hours ofweakness. But I have told you that I pull myself out of it quickly. No, no, I do not regret it, I cannot regret it, that what happened didhappen. 

 * * * * *

Morhange left me to go into the little grotto, where Bou-Djema'scamels were now resting comfortably. I stayed alone, watching thetorrent which was continuously rising with the impetuous inrush of itsunbridled tributaries. It had stopped raining. The sun shone from asky that had renewed its blueness. I could feel the clothes that had amoment before been drenching, drying upon me incredibly fast. 

A hand was placed on my shoulder. Morhange was again beside me. 

"Come here, " he said. 

Somewhat surprised, I followed him. We went into the grotto. 

The opening, which was big enough to admit the camels, made it fairlylight. Morhange led me up to the smooth face of rock opposite. "Look, "he said, with unconcealed joy. 

"What of it?"

"Don't you see?"

"I see that there are several Tuareg inscriptions, " I answered, withsome disappointment. "But I thought I had told you that I read Tifinarwriting very badly. Are these writings more interesting than theothers we have come upon before?"

"Look at this one, " said Morhange. There was such an accent of triumphin his tone that this time I concentrated my attention. 

I looked again. 

The characters of the inscription were arranged in the form of across. It plays such an important part in this adventure that I cannotforego retracing it for you. 

 | | +o o o o -- W + -- - | | |

[Transcriber's Note: This is but a crude ASCII representation of theinscription. The center 'W' is rotated 90 degrees counter-clockwise inthe book. ]

It was designed with great regularity, and the characters were cutdeep into the rock. Although I knew so little of rock inscriptions atthat time I had no difficulty in recognizing the antiquity of thisone. 

Morhange became more and more radiant as he regarded it. 

I looked at him questioningly. 

"Well, what have you to say now?" he asked. 

"What do you want me to say? I tell you that I can barely readTifinar. "

"Shall I help you?" he suggested. 

This course in Berber writing, after the emotions through which we hadjust passed, seemed to me a little inopportune. But Morhange was sovisibly delighted that I could not dash his joy. 

"Very well then, " began my companion, as much at his, ease as if he hadbeen before a blackboard, "what will strike you first about thisinscription is its repetition in the form of a cross. That is to saythat it contains the same word twice, top to bottom, and right to left. The word which it composes has seven letters so the fourth letter, W[Transcriber's Note: Rotated 90 deg. Counter-clockwise], comes naturallyin the middle. This arrangement which is unique in Tifinar writing, isalready remarkable enough. But there is better still. Now we will readit. "

Getting it wrong three times out of seven I finally succeeded, withMorhange's help, in spelling the word. 

"Have you got it?" asked Morhange when I had finished my task. 

"Less than ever, " I answered, a little put out;"a, n, t, i, n, h, a, --Antinha, I don't know that word, or anything like it, in all the Saharan dialects I am familiar with. "

Morhange rubbed his hands together. His satisfaction was withoutbounds. 

"You have said it. That is why the discovery is unique. "

"Why?"

"There is really nothing, either in Berber or in Arabian, analogous tothis word. "

"Then?"

"Then, my dear friend, we are in the presence of a foreign word, translated into Tifinar. "

"And this word belongs, according to your theory, to what language?"

"You must realize that the letter _e_ does not exist in the Tifinaralphabet. It has here been replaced by the phonetic sign which isnearest to it, --h. Restore _e_ to the place which belongs to it in theword, and you have--"

"Antinea. "

"'Antinea, ' precisely. We find ourselves before a Greek vocablereproduced in Tifinar. And I think that now you will agree with methat my find has a certain interest. "

That day we had no more conferences upon texts. A loud cry, anguished, terrifying, rang out. 

We rushed out to find a strange spectacle awaiting us. 

Although the sky had cleared again, the torrent of yellow water wasstill foaming and no one could predict when it would fall. Inmid-stream, struggling desperately in the current, was anextraordinary mass, gray and soft and swaying. 

But what at the first glance overwhelmed us with astonishment was tosee Bou-Djema, usually so calm, at this moment apparently besidehimself with frenzy, bounding through the gullies and over the rocksof the ledge, in full pursuit of the shipwreck. 

Of a sudden I seized Morhange by the arm. The grayish thing was alive. A pitiful long neck emerged from it with the heartrending cry of abeast in despair. 

"The fool, " I cried, "he has let one of our beasts get loose, and thestream is carrying it away!"

"You are mistaken, " said Morhange. "Our camels are all in the cave. The one Bou-Djema is running after is not ours. And the cry of anguishwe just heard, that was not Bou-Djema either. Bou-Djema is a braveChaamb who has at this moment only one idea, to appropriate theintestate capital represented by this camel in the stream. "

"Who gave that cry, then?"

"Let us try, if you like, to explore up this stream that our guide isdescending at such a rate. "

And without waiting for my answer he had already set out through therecently washed gullies of the rocky bank. 

At that moment it can be truly said that Morhange went to meet hisdestiny. 

I followed him. We had the greatest difficulty in proceeding two orthree hundred meters. Finally we saw at our feet a little rushingbrook where the water was falling a trifle. 

"See there?" said Morhange. 

A blackish bundle was balancing on the waves of the creek. 

When we had come up even with it we saw that it was a man in the longdark blue robes of the Tuareg. 

"Give me your hand, " said Morhange, "and brace yourself against arock, hard. "

He was very, very strong. In an instant, as if it were child's play, he had brought the body ashore. 

"He is still alive, " he pronounced with satisfaction. "Now it is aquestion of getting him to the grotto. This is no place to resuscitatea drowned man. "

He raised the body in his powerful arms. 

"It is astonishing how little he weighs for a man of his height. "

By the time we had retraced the way to the grotto the man's cottonclothes were almost dry. But the dye had run plentifully, and it wasan indigo man that Morhange was trying to recall to life. 

When I had made him swallow a quart of rum he opened his eyes, lookedat the two of us with surprise, then, closing them again, murmuredalmost unintelligibly a phrase, the sense of which we did not getuntil some days later:

"Can it be that I have reached the end of my mission?"

"What mission is he talking about?" I said. 

"Let him recover himself completely, " responded Morhange. "You hadbetter open some preserved food. With fellows of this build you don'thave to observe the precautions prescribed for drowned Europeans. "

It was indeed a species of giant, whose life we had just saved. Hisface, although very thin, was regular, almost beautiful. He had aclear skin and little beard. His hair, already white, showed him to bea man of sixty years. 

When I placed a tin of corned-beef before him a light of voracious joycame into his eyes. The tin contained an allowance for four persons. It was empty in a flash. 

"Behold, " said Morhange, "a robust appetite. Now we can put ourquestions without scruple. "

Already the Targa had placed over his forehead and face the blue veilprescribed by the ritual. He must have been completely famished not tohave performed this indispensable formality sooner. There was nothingvisible now but the eyes, watching us with a light that grew steadilymore sombre. 

"French officers, " he murmured at last. 

And he took Morhange's hand, and having placed it against his breast, carried it to his lips. 

Suddenly an expression of anxiety passed over his face. 

"And my mehari?" he asked. 

I explained that our guide was then employed in trying to save hisbeast. He in turn told us how it had stumbled, and fallen into thecurrent, and he himself, in trying to save it, had been knocked over. His forehead had struck a rock. He had cried out. After that heremembered nothing more. 

"What is your name?" I asked. 

"Eg-Anteouen. "

"What tribe do you belong to?"

"The tribe of Kel-Tahat. "

"The Kel-Tahats are the serfs of the tribe of Kel-Rhelâ, the greatnobles of Hoggar?"

"Yes, " he answered, casting a side glance in my direction. It seemedthat such precise questions on the affairs of Ahygar were not to hisliking. 

"The Kel-Tahats, if I am not mistaken, are established on thesouthwest flank of Atakor. [5] What were you doing, so far from yourhome territory when we saved your life?"

[Footnote 5: Another name, in the Temahaq language, for Ahaggar. (Noteby M. Leroux. )]

"I was going, by way of Tit, to In-Salah, " he said. 

"What were you going to do at In-Salah?"

He was about to reply. But suddenly we saw him tremble. His eyes werefixed on a point of the cavern. We looked to see what it was. He hadjust seen the rock inscription which had so delighted Morhange an hourbefore. 

"Do you know that?" Morhange asked him with keen curiosity. 

The Targa did not speak a word but his eyes had a strange light. 

"Do you know that?" insisted Morhange. 

And he added:

"Antinea?"

"Antinea, " repeated the man. 

And he was silent. 

"Why don't you answer the Captain?" I called out, with a strangefeeling of rage sweeping over me. 

The Targui looked at me. I thought that he was going to speak. But hiseyes became suddenly hard. Under the lustrous veil I saw his featuresstiffening. 

Morhange and I turned around. 

On the threshold of the cavern, breathless, discomfited, harassed byan hour of vain pursuit, Bou-Djema had returned to us. 

VI

THE DISASTER OF THE LETTUCE

As Eg-Anteouen and Bou-Djema came face to face, I fancied that boththe Targa and the Chaamba gave a sudden start which each immediatelyrepressed. It was nothing more than a fleeting impression. Nevertheless, it was enough to make me resolve that as soon as I wasalone with our guide, I would question him closely concerning our newcompanion. 

The beginning of the day had been wearisome enough. We decided, therefore, to spend the rest of it there, and even to pass the nightin the cave, waiting till the flood had completely subsided. 

In the morning, when I was marking our day's march upon the map, Morhange came toward me. I noticed that his manner was somewhatrestrained. 

"In three days, we shall be at Shikh-Salah, " I said to him. "Perhapsby the evening of the second day, badly as the camels go. "

"Perhaps we shall separate before then, " he muttered. 

"How so?"

"You see, I have changed my itinerary a little. I have given up theidea of going straight to Timissao. First I should like to make alittle excursion into the interior of the Ahaggar range. "

I frowned:

"What is this new idea?"

As I spoke I looked about for Eg-Anteouen, whom I had seen inconversation with Morhange the previous evening and several minutesbefore. He was quietly mending one of his sandals with a waxed threadsupplied by Bou-Djema. He did not raise his head. 

"It is simply, " explained Morhange, less and less at his ease, "thatthis man tells me there are similar inscriptions in several caverns inwestern Ahaggar. These caves are near the road that he has to takereturning home. He must pass by Tit. Now, from Tit, by way of Silet, is hardly two hundred kilometers. It is a quasi-classic route[6] asshort again as the one that I shall have to take alone, after I leaveyou, from Shikh-Salah to Timissao. That is in part, you see, thereason which has made me decide to. .. . "

[Footnote 6: The route and the stages from Tit to Timissao wereactually plotted out, as early as 1888, by Captain Bissuel. _LesTuarge de l'Ouest, _ itineraries 1 and 10. (Note by M. Leroux. )]

"In part? In very small part, " I replied. "But is your mind absolutelymade up?"

"It is, " he answered me. 

"When do you expect to leave me?"

"To-day. The road which Eg-Anteouen proposes to take into Ahaggarcrosses this one about four leagues from here. I have a favor to askof you in this connection. "

"Please tell me. "

"It is to let me take one of the two baggage camels, since my Targahas lost his. "

"The camel which carries your baggage belongs to you as much as doesyour own mehari, " I answered coldly. 

We stood there several minutes without speaking. Morhange maintainedan uneasy silence; I was examining my map. All over it in greater orless degree, but particularly towards the south, the unexploredportions of Ahaggar stood out as far too numerous white patches in thetan area of supposed mountains. 

I finally said:

"You give me your word that when you have seen these famous grottos, you will make straight for Timissao by Tit and Silet?"

He looked at me uncomprehendingly. 

"Why do you ask that?"

"Because, if you promise me that, --provided, of course, that mycompany is not unwelcome to you--I will go with you. Either way, Ishall have two hundred kilometers to go. I shall strike forShikh-Salah from the south, instead of from the west--that is the onlydifference. "

Morhange looked at me with emotion. 

"Why do you do this?" he murmured. 

"My dear fellow, " I said (it was the first time that I had addressedMorhange in this familiar way), "my dear fellow, I have a sense whichbecomes marvellously acute in the desert, the sense of danger. I gaveyou a slight proof of it yesterday morning, at the coming of thestorm. With all your knowledge of rock inscriptions, you seem to me tohave no very exact idea of what kind of place Ahaggar is, nor what maybe in store for you there. On that account, I should be just as wellpleased not to let you run sure risks alone. "

"I have a guide, " he said with his adorable naiveté. 

Eg-Anteouen, in the same squatting position, kept on patching his oldslipper. 

I took a step toward him. 

"You heard what I said to the Captain?"

"Yes, " the Targa answered calmly. 

"I am going with him. We leave you at Tit, to which place you mustbring us. Where is the place you proposed to show the Captain?"

"I did not propose to show it to him; it was his own idea, " said theTarga coldly. "The grottos with the inscriptions are three-days' marchsouthward in the mountains. At first, the road is rather rough. Butfarther on, it turns, and you gain Timissao very easily. There aregood wells where the Tuareg Taitoqs, who are friendly to the French, come to water their camels. "

"And you know the road well?"

He shrugged his shoulders. His eyes had a scornful smile. 

"I have taken it twenty times, " he said. 

"In that case, let's get started. "

We rode for two hours. I did not exchange a word with Morhange. I hada clear intuition of the folly we were committing in risking ourselvesso unconcernedly in that least known and most dangerous part of theSahara. Every blow which had been struck in the last twenty years toundermine the French advance had come from this redoubtable Ahaggar. But what of it? It was of my own will that I had joined in this madscheme. No need of going over it again. What was the use of spoilingmy action by a continual exhibition of disapproval? And, furthermore, I may as well admit that I rather liked the turn that our trip wasbeginning to take. I had, at that instant, the sensation of journeyingtoward something incredible, toward some tremendous adventure. You donot live with impunity for months and years as the guest of thedesert. Sooner or later, it has its way with you, annihilates the goodofficer, the timid executive, overthrows his solicitude for hisresponsibilities. What is there behind those mysterious rocks, thosedim solitudes, which have held at bay the most illustrious pursuers ofmystery? You follow, I tell you, you follow. 

 * * * * *

"Are you sure at least that this inscription is interesting enough tojustify us in our undertaking?" I asked Morhange. 

My companion started with pleasure. Ever since we began our journey Ihad realized his fear that I was coming along half-heartedly. As soonas I offered him a chance to convince me, his scruples vanished, andhis triumph seemed assured to him. 

"Never, " he answered, in a voice that he tried to control, but throughwhich the enthusiasm rang out, "never has a Greek inscription beenfound so far south. The farthest points where they have been reportedare in the south of Algeria and Cyrene. But in Ahaggar! Think of it!It is true that this one is translated into Tifinar. But thispeculiarity does not diminish the interest of the coincidence: itincreases it. "

"What do you take to be the meaning of this word?"

"_Antinea_ can only be a proper name, " said Morhange. "To whom does itrefer? I admit I don't know, and if at this very moment I am marchingtoward the south, dragging you along with me, it is because I count onlearning more about it. Its etymology? It hasn't one definitely, butthere are thirty possibilities. Bear in mind that the Tifinar alphabetis far from tallying with the Greek alphabet, which increases thenumber of hypotheses. Shall I suggest several?"

"I was just about to ask you to. "

"To begin with, there is [Greek: agti] and [Greek: neos], _the womanwho is placed opposite a vessel_, an explanation which would have beenpleasing to Gaffarel and to my venerated master Berlioux. That wouldapply well enough to the figure-heads of ships. There is a technicalterm that I cannot recall at this moment, not if you beat me a hundredtimes over. [7]

[Footnote 7: It is perhaps worth noting here that _Figures de Proues_is the exact title of a very remarkable collection of poems by Mme. Delarus-Mardrus. (Note by M. Leroux. )]

"Then there is [Greek: agtinêa], that you must relate to [Greek: agti]and [Greek: naos], _she who holds herself before the_ [Greek: naos], the [Greek: naos] of the temple, _she who is opposite the sanctuary, _therefore priestess. An interpretation which would enchant Girard andRenan. 

"Next we have [Greek: agtine], from [Greek: agti] and [Greek: neos], new, which can mean two things: either _she who is the contrary ofyoung_, which is to say old; or _she who is the enemy of novelty_ or_the enemy of youth_. 

"There is still another sense of [Greek: gati], _in exchange for, _which is capable of complicating all the others I have mentioned;likewise there are four meanings for the verb [Greek: neô], whichmeans in turn _to go, to flow, to thread_ or _weave, to heap_. Thereis more still. .. . And notice, please, that I have not at mydisposition on the otherwise commodious hump of this mehari, eitherthe great dictionary of Estienne or the lexicons of Passow, of Pape, or of Liddel-Scott. This is only to show you, my dear friend, thatepigraphy is but a relative science, always dependent on the discoveryof a new text which contradicts the previous findings, when it is notmerely at the mercy of the humors of the epigraphists and their petconceptions of the universe. 

"That was rather my view of it, " I said, "But I must admit myastonishment to find that, with such a sceptical opinion of the goal, you still do not hesitate to take risks which may be quiteconsiderable. "

Morhange smiled wanly. 

"I do not interpret, my friend; I collect. From what I will take backto him, Dom Granger has the ability to draw conclusions which arebeyond my slight knowledge. I was amusing myself a little. Pardon me. "

Just then the girth of one of the baggage camels, evidently not wellfastened, came loose. Part of the load slipped and fell to the ground. 

Eg-Anteouen descended instantly from his beast and helped Bou-Djemarepair the damage. 

When they had finished, I made my mehari walk beside Bou-Djema's. 

"It will be better to resaddle the camels at the next stop. They willhave to climb the mountain. "

The guide looked at me with amazement. Up to that time I had thoughtit unnecessary to acquaint him with our new projects. But I supposedEg-Anteouen would have told him. 

"Lieutenant, the road across the white plain to Shikh-Salah is notmountainous, " said the Chaamba. 

"We are not keeping to the road across the white plain. We are goingsouth, by Ahaggar. "

"By Ahaggar, " he murmured. "But. .. . "

"But what?"

"I do not know the road. "

"Eg-Anteouen is going to guide us. "

"Eg-Anteouen!"

I watched Bou-Djema as he made this suppressed ejaculation. His eyeswere fixed on the Targa with a mixture of stupor and fright. 

Eg-Anteouen's camel was a dozen yards ahead of us, side by side withMorhange's. The two men were talking. I realized that Morhange must beconversing with Eg-Anteouen about the famous inscriptions. But we werenot so far behind that they could not have overheard our words. 

Again I looked at my guide. I saw that he was pale. 

"What is it, Bou-Djema?" I asked in a low voice. 

"Not here, Lieutenant, not here, " he muttered. 

His teeth chattered. He added in a whisper:

"Not here. This evening, when we stop, when he turns to the East topray, when the sun goes down. Then, call me to you. I will tellyou. .. . But not here. He is talking, but he is listening. Go ahead. Join the Captain. "

"What next?" I murmured, pressing my camel's neck with my foot so asto make him overtake Morhange. 

 * * * * *

It was about five o'clock when Eg-Anteouen who was leading the way, came to a stop. 

"Here it is, " he said, getting down from his camel. 

It was a beautiful and sinister place. To our left a fantastic wall ofgranite outlined its gray ribs against the sky. This wall was pierced, from top to bottom, by a winding corridor about a thousand feet highand scarcely wide enough in places to allow three camels to walkabreast. 

"Here it is, " repeated the Targa. 

To the west, straight behind us, the track that we were leavingunrolled like a pale ribbon. The white plain, the road to Shikh-Salah, the established halts, the well-known wells. .. . And, on the otherside, this black wall against the mauve sky, this dark passage. 

I looked at Morhange. 

"We had better stop here, " he said simply. "Eg-Anteouen advises us totake as much water here as we can carry. "

With one accord we decided to spend the night there, beforeundertaking the mountain. 

There was a spring, in a dark basin, from which fell a little cascade;there were a few shrubs, a few plants. 

Already the camels were browsing at the length of their tethers. 

Bou-Djema arranged our camp dinner service of tin cups and plates on agreat flat stone. An opened tin of meat lay beside a plate of lettucewhich he had just gathered from the moist earth around the spring. Icould tell from the distracted manner in which he placed these objectsupon the rock how deep was his anxiety. 

As he was bending toward me to hand me a plate, he pointed to thegloomy black corridor which we were about to enter. 

"_Blad-el-Khouf!"_ he murmured. 

"What did he say?" asked Morhange, who had seen the gesture. 

"_Blad-el-Khouf. This is the country of fear. _ That is what the Arabscall Ahaggar. "

Bou-Djema went a little distance off and sat down, leaving us to ourdinner. Squatting on his heels, he began to eat a few lettuce leavesthat he had kept for his own meal. 

Eg-Anteouen was still motionless. 

Suddenly the Targa rose. The sun in the west was no larger than a redbrand. We saw Eg-Anteouen approach the fountain, spread his blueburnous on the ground and kneel upon it. 

"I did not suppose that the Tuareg were so observant of Mussulmantradition, " said Morhange. 

"Nor I, " I replied thoughtfully. 

But I had something to do at that moment besides making suchspeculations. 

"Bou-Djema, " I called. 

At the same time, I looked at Eg-Anteouen. Absorbed in his prayer, bowed toward the west, apparently he was paying no attention to me. Ashe prostrated himself, I called again. 

"Bou-Djema, come with me to my mehari; I want to get something out ofthe saddle bags. "

Still kneeling, Eg-Anteouen was mumbling his prayer slowly, composedly. 

But Bou-Djema had not budged. 

His only response was a deep moan. 

Morhange and I leaped to our feet and ran to the guide. Eg-Anteouenreached him as soon as we did. 

With his eyes closed and his limbs already cold, the Chaamba breatheda death rattle in Morhange's arms. I had seized one of his hands. Eg-Anteouen took the other. Each, in his own way, was trying todivine, to understand. .. . 

Suddenly Eg-Anteouen leapt to his feet. He had just seen the poorembossed bowl which the Arab had held an instant before between hisknees, and which now lay overturned upon the ground. 

He picked it up, looked quickly at one after another of the leaves oflettuce remaining in it, and then gave a hoarse exclamation. 

"So, " said Morhange, "it's his turn now; he is going to go mad. "

Watching Eg-Anteouen closely, I saw him hasten without a word to therock where our dinner was set, a second later, he was again beside us, holding out the bowl of lettuce which he had not yet touched. 

Then he took a thick, long, pale green leaf from Bou-Djema's bowl andheld it beside another leaf he had just taken from our bowl. 

"_Afahlehle, "_ was all he said. 

I shuddered, and so did Morhange. It was the _afahlehla, _ the_falestez_, of the Arabs of the Sahara, the terrible plant which hadkilled a part of the Flatters mission more quickly and surely thanTuareg arms. 

Eg-Anteouen stood up. His tall silhouette was outlined blackly againstthe sky which suddenly had turned pale lilac. He was watching us. 

We bent again over the unfortunate guide. 

"_Afahlehle, "_ the Targa repeated, and shook his head. 

 * * * * *

Bou-Djema died in the middle of the night without having regainedconsciousness. 

VII

THE COUNTRY OF FEAR

"It is curious, " said Morhange, "to see how our expedition, uneventfulsince we left Ouargla, is now becoming exciting. "

He said this after kneeling for a moment in prayer before thepainfully dug grave in which we had lain the guide. 

I do not believe in God. But if anything can influence whatever powersthere may be, whether of good or of evil, of light or of darkness, itis the prayer of such a man. 

For two days we picked our way through a gigantic chaos of black rockin what might have been the country of the moon, so barren was it. Nosound but that of stones rolling under the feet of the camels andstriking like gunshots at the foot of the precipices. 

A strange march indeed. For the first few hours, I tried to pick out, by compass, the route we were following. But my calculations were soonupset; doubtless a mistake due to the swaying motion of the camel. Iput the compass back in one of my saddle-bags. From that time on, Eg-Anteouen was our master. We could only trust ourselves to him. 

He went first; Morhange followed him, and I brought up the rear. Wepassed at every step most curious specimens of volcanic rock. But Idid not examine them. I was no longer interested in such things. Another kind of curiosity had taken possession of me. I had come toshare Morhange's madness. If my companion had said to me: "We aredoing a very rash thing. Let us go back to the known trails, " I shouldhave replied, "You are free to do as you please. But I am going on. "

Toward evening of the second day, we found ourselves at the foot of ablack mountain whose jagged ramparts towered in profile seven thousandfeet above our heads. It was an enormous shadowy fortress, like theoutline of a feudal stronghold silhouetted with incredible sharpnessagainst the orange sky. 

There was a well, with several trees, the first we had seen sincecutting into Ahaggar. 

A group of men were standing about it. Their camels, tethered closeby, were cropping a mouthful here and there. 

At seeing us, the men drew together, alert, on the defensive. 

Eg-Anteouen turned to us and said:

"Eggali Tuareg. "

We went toward them. 

They were handsome men, those Eggali, the largest Tuareg whom I everhave seen. With unexpected swiftness they drew aside from the well, leaving it to us. Eg-Anteouen spoke a few words to them. They lookedat Morhange and me with a curiosity bordering on fear, but at anyrate, with respect. 

I drew several little presents from my saddlebags and was astonishedat the reserve of the chief, who refused them. He seemed afraid evenof my glance. 

When they had gone, I expressed my astonishment at this shyness forwhich my previous experiences with the tribes of the Sahara had notprepared me. 

"They spoke with respect, even with fear, " I said to Eg-Anteouen. "Andyet the tribe of the Eggali is noble. And that of the Kel-Tahats, towhich you tell me you belong, is a slave tribe. "

A smile lighted the dark eyes of Eg-Anteouen. 

"It is true, " he said. 

"Well then?"

"I told them that we three, the Captain, you and I, were bound for theMountain of the Evil Spirits. "

With a gesture, he indicated the black mountain. 

"They are afraid. All the Tuareg of Ahaggar are afraid of the Mountainof the Evil Spirits. You saw how they were up and off at the verymention of its name. "

"It is to the Mountain of the Evil Spirits that you are taking us?"queried Morhange. 

"Yes, " replied the Targa, "that is where the inscriptions are that Itold you about. "

"You did not mention that detail to us. "

"Why should I? The Tuareg are afraid of the _ilhinen, _ spirits withhorns and tails, covered with hair, who make the cattle sicken and dieand cast spells over men. But I know well that the Christians are notafraid and even laugh at the fears of the Tuareg. "

"And you?" I asked. "You are a Targa and you are not afraid of the_ilhinen_?"

Eg-Anteouen showed a little red leather bag hung about his neck on achain of white seeds. 

"I have my amulet, " he replied gravely, "blessed by the venerableSidi-Moussa himself. And then I am with you. You saved my life. Youhave desired to see the inscriptions. The will of Allah be done!"

As he finished speaking, he squatted on his heels, drew out his longreed pipe and began to smoke gravely. 

"All this is beginning to seem very strange, " said Morhange, comingover to me. 

"You can say that without exaggeration, " I replied. "You remember aswell as I the passage in which Barth tells of his expedition to theIdinen, the Mountain of the Evil Spirits of the Azdjer Tuareg. Theregion had so evil a reputation that no Targa would go with him. Buthe got back. "

"Yes, he got back, " replied my comrade, "but only after he had beenlost. Without water or food, he came so near dying of hunger andthirst that he had to open a vein and drink his own blood. Theprospect is not particularly attractive. "

I shrugged my shoulders. After all, it was not my fault that we werethere. 

Morhange understood my gesture and thought it necessary to makeexcuses. 

"I should be curious, " he went on with rather forced gaiety, "to meetthese spirits and substantiate the facts of Pomponius Mela who knewthem and locates them, in fact, in the mountain of the Tuareg. Hecalls them _Egipans, Blemyens, Gamphasantes, Satyrs. .. . 'TheGamphasantes_, he says, 'are naked. The _Blemyens_ have no head: theirfaces are placed on their chests; the _Satyrs_ have nothing like menexcept faces. The _Egipans_ are made as is commonly described. ' . .. _Satyrs, Egipans_ . .. Isn't it very strange to find Greek names givento the barbarian spirits of this region? Believe me, we are on acurious trail; I am sure that Antinea will be our key to remarkablediscoveries. "

"Listen, " I said, laying a finger on my lips. 

Strange sounds rose from about us as the evening advanced with greatstrides. A kind of crackling, followed by long rending shrieks, echoedand reechoed to infinity in the neighboring ravines. It seemed to methat the whole black mountain suddenly had begun to moan. 

We looked at Eg-Anteouen. He was smoking on, without twitching amuscle. 

"The _ilhinen_ are waking up, " he said simply. 

Morhange listened without saying a word. Doubtless he understood as Idid: the overheated rocks, the crackling of the stone, a whole seriesof physical phenomena, the example of the singing statue of Memnon. .. . But, for all that, this unexpected concert reacted no less painfullyon our overstrained nerves. 

The last words of poor Bou-Djema came to my mind. 

"The country of fear, " I murmured in a low voice. 

And Morhange repeated:

"The country of fear. "

The strange concert ceased as the first stars appeared in the sky. With deep emotion we watched the tiny bluish flames appear, one afteranother. At that portentous moment they seemed to span the distancebetween us, isolated, condemned, lost, and our brothers of higherlatitudes, who at that hour were rushing about their poor pleasureswith delirious frenzy in cities where the whiteness of electric lampscame on in a burst. 

_Chêt-Ahadh essa hetîsenetMâteredjrê d'Erredjaot, Mâtesekek d-Essekâot, Mâtelahrlahr d'Ellerhâot, Ettâs djenen, barâd tît-ennit abâtet. _

Eg-Anteouen's voice raised itself in slow guttural tones. It resoundedwith sad, grave majesty in the silence now complete. 

I touched the Targa's arm. With a movement of his head, he pointed toa constellation glittering in the firmament. 

"The Pleiades, " I murmured to Morhange, showing him the seven palestars, while Eg-Anteouen took up his mournful song in the samemonotone:

"The Daughters of the Night are seven: Mâteredjrê and Erredjeâot, Mâtesekek and Essekâot, Mâtelahrlahr and Ellerhâot, The seventh is a boy, one of whose eyes has flown away. "

A sudden sickness came over me. I seized the Targa's arm as he wasstarting to intone his refrain for the third time. 

"When will we reach this cave with the inscriptions?" I askedbrusquely. 

He looked at me and replied with his usual calm:

"We are there. "

"We are there? Then why don't you show it to us?"

"You did not ask me, " he replied, not without a touch of insolence. 

Morhange had jumped to his feet. 

"The cave is here?"

"It is here, " Eg-Anteouen replied slowly, rising to his feet. 

"Take us to it. "

"Morhange, " I said, suddenly anxious, "night is falling. We will seenothing. And perhaps it is still some way off. "

"It is hardly five hundred paces, " Eg-Anteouen replied. "The cave isfull of dead underbrush. We will set it on fire and the Captain willsee as in full daylight. "

"Come, " my comrade repeated. 

"And the camels?" I hazarded. 

"They are tethered, " said Eg-Anteouen, "and we shall not be gonelong. "

He had started toward the black mountain. Morhange, trembling withexcitement, followed. I followed, too, the victim of profounduneasiness. My pulses throbbed. "I am not afraid, " I kept repeating tomyself. "I swear that this is not fear. "

And really it was not fear. Yet, what a strange dizziness! There was amist over my eyes. My ears buzzed. Again I heard Eg-Anteouen's voice, but multiplied, immense, and at the same time, very low. 

"The Daughters of the Night are seven. .. . "

It seemed to me that the voice of the mountain, re-echoing, repeatedthat sinister last line to infinity:

"And the seventh is a boy, one of whose eyes has flownaway. "

"Here it is, " said the Targa. 

A black hole in the wall opened up. Bending over, Eg-Anteouen entered. We followed him. The darkness closed around us. 

A yellow flame. Eg-Anteouen had struck his flint. He set fire to apile of brush near the surface. At first we could see nothing. Thesmoke blinded us. 

Eg-Anteouen stayed at one side of the opening of the cave. He wasseated and, more inscrutible than ever, had begun again to blow greatpuffs of gray smoke from his pipe. 

The burning brush cast a flickering light. I caught a glimpse ofMorhange. He seemed very pale. With both hands braced against thewall, he was working to decipher a mass of signs which I couldscarcely distinguish. 

Nevertheless, I thought I could see his hands trembling. 

"The devil, " I thought, finding it more and more difficult toco-ordinate my thoughts, "he seems to be as unstrung as I. "

I heard him call out to Eg-Anteouen in what seemed to me a loud voice:

"Stand to one side. Let the air in. What a smoke!"

He kept on working at the signs. 

Suddenly I heard him again, but with difficulty. It seemed as if evensounds were confused in the smoke. 

"Antinea . .. At last . .. Antinea. But not cut in the rock . .. Themarks traced in ochre . .. Not ten years old, perhaps not five. .. . Oh!. .. . "

He pressed his hands to his head. Again he cried out:

"It is a mystery. A tragic mystery. "

I laughed teasingly. 

"Come on, come on. Don't get excited over it. "

He took me by the arm and shook me. I saw his eyes big with terror andastonishment. 

"Are you mad?" he yelled in my face. 

"Not so loud, " I replied with the same little laugh. 

He looked at me again, and sank down, overcome, on a rock opposite me. Eg-Anteouen was still smoking placidly at the mouth of the cave. Wecould see the red circle of his pipe glowing in the darkness. 

"Madman! Madman!" repeated Morhange. His voice seemed to stick in histhroat. 

Suddenly he bent over the brush which was giving its last darts offlame, high and clear. He picked out a branch which had not yetcaught. I saw him examine it carefully, then throw it back in the firewith a loud laugh. 

"Ha! Ha! That's good, all right!"

He staggered toward Eg-Anteouen, pointing to the fire. 

"It's hemp. Hasheesh, hasheesh. Oh, that's a good one, all right. "

"Yes, it's a good one, " I repeated, bursting into laughter. 

Eg-Anteouen quietly smiled approval. The dying fire lit hisinscrutable face and flickered in his terrible dark eyes. 

A moment passed. Suddenly Morhange seized the Targa's arm. 

"I want to smoke, too, " he said. "Give me a pipe. " The specter gavehim one. 

"What! A European pipe?"

"A European pipe, " I repeated, feeling gayer and gayer. 

"With an initial, 'M. ' As if made on purpose. M. .. . Captain Morhange. "

"Masson, " corrected Eg-Anteouen quietly. 

"Captain Masson, " I repeated in concert with Morhange. 

We laughed again. 

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Captain Masson. .. . Colonel Flatters. .. . The well ofGarama. They killed him to take his pipe . .. That pipe. It wasCeghéir-ben-Cheikh who killed Captain Masson. "

"It was Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, " repeated the Targa with imperturbablecalm. 

"Captain Masson and Colonel Flatters had left the convoy to look forthe well, " said Morhange, laughing. 

"It was then that the Tuareg attacked them, " I finished, laughing ashard as I could. 

"A Targa of Ahagga seized the bridle of Captain Masson's horse, " saidMorhange. 

"Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh had hold of Colonel Flatters' bridle, " put inEg-Anteouen. 

"The Colonel puts his foot in the stirrup and receives a cut fromCeghéir-ben-Cheikh's saber, " I said. 

"Captain Masson draws his revolver and fires on Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, shooting off three fingers of his left hand, " said Morhange. 

"But, " finished Eg-Anteouen imperturbably, "but Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, with one blow of his saber, splits Captain Masson's skull. ". . 

He gave a silent, satisfied laugh as he spoke. The dying flame lit uphis face. We saw the gleaming black stem of his pipe. He held it inhis left hand. One finger, no, two fingers only on that hand. Hello! Ihad not noticed that before. 

Morhange also noticed it, for he finished with a loud laugh. 

"Then, after splitting his skull, you robbed him. You took his pipefrom him. Bravo, Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh!"

Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh does not reply, but I can see how satisfied withhimself he is. He keeps on smoking. I can hardly see his features now. The firelight pales, dies. I have never laughed so much as thisevening. I am sure Morhange never has, either. Perhaps he will forgetthe cloister. And all because Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh stole CaptainMasson's pipe. .. . 

Again that accursed song. "The seventh is a boy, one of whose eyes hasflown away. " One cannot imagine more senseless words. It is verystrange, really: there seem to be four of us in this cave now. Four, Isay, five, six, seven, eight. .. . Make yourselves at home, my friends. What! there are no more of you?. .. I am going to find out at last howthe spirits of this region are made, the _Gamphasantes_, the_Blemyens_. .. . Morhange says that the _Blemyens_ have their faces onthe middle of their chests. Surely this one who is seizing me in hisarms is not a _Blemyen_! Now he is carrying me outside. And Morhange. .. I do not want them to forget Morhange. .. . 

They did not forget him; I see him perched on a camel in front of thatone to which I am fastened. They did well to fasten me, for otherwiseI surely would tumble off. These spirits certainly are not badfellows. But what a long way it is! I want to stretch out. To sleep. Awhile ago we surely were following a long passage, then we were in theopen air. Now we are again in an endless stifling corridor. Here arethe stars again. .. . Is this ridiculous course going to keep on?. .. 

Hello, lights! Stars, perhaps. No, lights, I say. A stairway, on myword; of rocks, to be sure, but still, a stairway. How can thecamels. .. ? But it is no longer a camel; this is a man carrying me. Aman dressed in white, not a _Gamphasante_ nor a _Blemyen_. Morhangemust be giving himself airs with his historical reasoning, all false, I repeat, all false. Good Morhange. Provided that his _Gamphasante_does not let him fall on this unending stairway. Something glitters onthe ceiling. Yes, it is a lamp, a copper lamp, as at Tunis, atBarbouchy's. Good, here again you cannot see anything. But I am makinga fool of myself; I am lying down; now I can go to sleep. What a sillyday!. .. Gentlemen, I assure you that it is unnecessary to bind me: Ido not want to go down on the boulevards. 

Darkness again. Steps of someone going away. Silence. 

But only for a moment. Someone is talking beside me. What are theysaying?. .. No, it is impossible. That metallic ring, that voice. Doyou know what it is calling, that voice, do you know what it iscalling in the tones of someone used to the phrase? Well, it iscalling:

"Play your cards, gentlemen, play your cards. There are ten thousand_louis_ in the bank. Play your cards, gentlemen. "

In the name of God, am I or am I not at Ahaggar?

VIII

AWAKENING AT AHAGGAR

It was broad daylight when I opened my eyes. I thought at once ofMorhange. I could not see him, but I heard him, close by, givinglittle grunts of surprise. 

I called to him. He ran to me. 

"Then they didn't tie you up?" I asked. 

"I beg your pardon. They did. But they did it badly; I managed to getfree. "

"You might have untied me, too, " I remarked crossly. 

"What good would it have done? I should only have waked you up. And Ithought that your first word would be to call me. There, that's done. "

I reeled as I tried to stand on my feet. 

Morhange smiled. 

"We might have spent the whole night smoking and drinking and not beenin a worse state, " he said. "Anyhow, that Eg-Anteouen with hishasheesh is a fine rascal. "

"Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, " I corrected. 

I rubbed my hand over my forehead. 

"Where are we?"

"My dear boy, " Morhange replied, "since I awakened from theextraordinary nightmare which is mixed up with the smoky cave and thelamp-lit stairway of the Arabian Nights, I have been going fromsurprise to surprise, from confusion to confusion. Just look aroundyou. "

I rubbed my eyes and stared. Then I seized my friend's hand. 

"Morhange, " I begged, "tell me if we are still dreaming. "

We were in a round room, perhaps fifty feet in diameter, and of aboutthe same height, lighted by a great window opening on a sky of intenseblue. 

Swallows flew back and forth, outside, giving quick, joyous cries. 

The floor, the incurving walls and the ceiling were of a kind ofveined marble like porphyry, panelled with a strange metal, paler thangold, darker than silver, clouded just then by the early morning mistthat came in through the window in great puffs. 

I staggered toward this window, drawn by the freshness of the breezeand the sunlight which was chasing away my dreams, and I leaned myelbows on the balustrade. 

I could not restrain a cry of delight. 

I was standing on a kind of balcony, cut into the flank of a mountain, overhanging an abyss. Above me, blue sky; below appeared a veritableearthly paradise hemmed in on all sides by mountains that formed acontinuous and impassable wall about it. A garden lay spread out downthere. The palm trees gently swayed their great fronds. At their feetwas a tangle of the smaller trees which grow in an oasis under theirprotection: almonds, lemons, oranges, and many others which I couldnot distinguish from that height. A broad blue stream, fed by awaterfall, emptied into a charming lake, the waters of which had themarvellous transparency which comes in high altitudes. Great birdsflew in circles over this green hollow; I could see in the lake thered flash of a flamingo. 

The peaks of the mountains which towered on all sides were completelycovered with snow. 

The blue stream, the green palms, the golden fruit, and above it all, the miraculous snow, all this bathed in that limpid air, gave such animpression of beauty, of purity, that my poor human strength could nolonger stand the sight of it. I laid my forehead on the balustrade, which, too, was covered with that heavenly snow, and began to cry likea baby. 

Morhange was behaving like another child. But he had awakened before Ihad, and doubtless had had time to grasp, one by one, all thesedetails whose fantastic _ensemble_ staggered me. 

He laid his hand on my shoulder and gently pulled me back into theroom. 

"You haven't seen anything yet, " he said. "Look! Look!"

"Morhange!"

"Well, old man, what do you want me to do about it? Look!"

I had just realized that the strange room was furnished--God forgiveme--in the European fashion. There were indeed, here and there, roundleather Tuareg cushions, brightly colored blankets from Gafsa, rugsfrom Kairouan, and Caramani hangings which, at that moment, I shouldhave dreaded to draw aside. But a half-open panel in the wall showed abookcase crowded with books. A whole row of photographs ofmasterpieces of ancient art were hung on the walls. Finally there wasa table almost hidden under its heap of papers, pamphlets, books. Ithought I should collapse at seeing a recent number of the_Archaeological Review_. 

I looked at Morhange. He was looking at me, and suddenly a mad laughseized us and doubled us up for a good minute. 

"I do not know, " Morhange finally managed to say, "whether or not weshall regret some day our little excursion into Ahaggar. But admit, inthe meantime, that it promises to be rich in unexpected adventures. That unforgettable guide who puts us to sleep just to distract usfrom the unpleasantness of caravan life and who lets me experience, inthe best of good faith, the far-famed delights of hasheesh: thatfantastic night ride, and, to cap the climax, this cave of a Nureddinwho must have received the education of the Athenian Bersot at theFrench _Ecole Normale_--all this is enough, on my word, to upset thewits of the best balanced. "

"What do I think, my poor friend? Why, just what you yourself think. Idon't understand it at all, not at all. What you politely call mylearning is not worth a cent. And why shouldn't I be all mixed up?This living in caves amazes me. Pliny speaks of the natives living incaves, seven days' march southwest of the country of the Amantes, andtwelve days to the westward of the great Syrte. Herodotus says alsothat the Garamentes used to go out in their chariots to hunt thecave-dwelling Ethopians. But here we are in Ahaggar, in the midst ofthe Targa country, and the best authorities tell us that the Tuaregnever have been willing to live in caves. Duveyrier is precise on thatpoint. And what is this, I ask you, but a cave turned into a workroom, with pictures of the Venus de Medici and the Apollo Sauroctone on thewalls? I tell you that it is enough to drive you mad. "

And Morhange threw himself on a couch and began to roar with laughteragain. 

"See, " I said, "this is Latin. "

I had picked up several scattered papers from the work-table in themiddle of the room. Morhange took them from my hands and devoured themgreedily. His face expressed unbounded stupefaction. 

"Stranger and stranger, my boy. Someone here is composing, with muchcitation of texts, a dissertation on the Gorgon Islands: _de Gorgonuminsulis_. Medusa, according to him, was a Libyan savage who lived nearLake Triton, our present Chott Melhrir, and it is there that Perseus. .. Ah!"

Morhange's words choked in his throat. A sharp, shrill voice piercedthe immense room. 

"Gentlemen, I beg you, let my papers alone. "

I turned toward the newcomer. 

One of the Caramani curtains was drawn aside, and the most unexpectedof persons came in. Resigned as we were to unexpected events, theimprobability of this sight exceeded anything our imaginations couldhave devised. 

On the threshold stood a little bald-headed man with a pointed sallowface half hidden by an enormous pair of green spectacles and a pepperand salt beard. No shirt was visible, but an impressive broad redcravat. He wore white trousers. Red leather slippers furnished theonly Oriental suggestion of his costume. 

He wore, not without pride, the rosette of an officer of theDepartment of Education. 

He collected the papers which Morhange had dropped in his amazement, counted them, arranged them; then, casting a peevish glance at us, hestruck a copper gong. 

The portiére was raised again. A huge white Targa entered. I seemed torecognize him as one of the genii of the cave. [8]

[Footnote 8: The Negro serfs among the Tuareg are generally called"white Tuareg. " While the nobles are clad in blue cotton robes, theserfs wear white robes, hence their name of "white Tuareg. " See, inthis connection, Duveyrier: _les Tuareg du Nord_, page 292. (Note byM. Leroux. )]

"Ferradji, " angrily demanded the little officer of the Department ofEducation, "why were these gentlemen brought into the library?"

The Targa bowed respectfully. 

"Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh came back sooner than we expected, " he replied, "and last night the embalmers had not yet finished. They brought themhere in the meantime, " and he pointed to us. 

"Very well, you may go, " snapped the little man. 

Ferradji backed toward the door. On the threshold, he stopped andspoke again:

"I was to remind you, sir, that dinner is served. "

"All right. Go along. "

And the little man seated himself at the desk and began to finger thepapers feverishly. 

I do not know why, but a mad feeling of exasperation seized me. Iwalked toward him. 

"Sir, " I said, "my friend and I do not know where we are nor who youare. We can see only that you are French, since you are wearing one ofthe highest honorary decorations of our country. You may have made thesame observation on your part, " I added, indicating the slender redribbon which I wore on my vest. 

He looked at me in contemptuous surprise. 

"Well, sir?"

"Well, sir, the Negro who just went out pronounced the name ofCeghéir-ben-Cheikh, the name of a brigand, a bandit, one of theassassins of Colonel Flatters. Are you acquainted with that detail, sir?"

The little man surveyed me coldly and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Certainly. But what difference do you suppose that makes to me?"

"What!" I cried, beside myself with rage. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Sir, " said the little old man with comical dignity, turning toMorhange, "I call you to witness the strange manners of yourcompanion. I am here in my own house and I do not allow. .. . "

"You must excuse my comrade, sir, " said Morhange, stepping forward. "He is not a man of letters, as you are. These young lieutenants arehot-headed, you know. And besides, you can understand why both of usare not as calm as might be desired. "

I was furious and on the point of disavowing these strangely humblewords of Morhange. But a glance showed me that there was as much ironyas surprise in his expression. 

"I know indeed that most officers are brutes, " grumbled the little oldman. "But that is no reason. .. . "

"I am only an officer myself, " Morhange went on, in an even humblertone, "and if ever I have been sensible to the intellectualinferiority of that class, I assure you that it was now in glancing--Ibeg your pardon for having taken the liberty to do so--in glancingover the learned pages which you devote to the passionate story ofMedusa, according to Procles of Carthage, cited by Pausanias. "

A laughable surprise spread over the features of the little old man. He hastily wiped his spectacles. 

"What!" he finally cried. 

"It is indeed unfortunate, in this matter, " Morhange continuedimperturbably, "that we are not in possession of the curiousdissertation devoted to this burning question by Statius Sebosus, awork which we know only through Pliny and which. .. . "

"You know Statius Sebosus?"

"And which, my master, the geographer Berlioux. .. . "

"You knew Berlioux--you were his pupil?" stammered the little man withthe decoration. 

"I have had that honor, " replied Morhange, very coldly. 

"But, but, sir, then you have heard mentioned, you are familiar withthe question, the problem of Atlantis?"

"Indeed I am not unacquainted with the works of Lagneau, Ploix, Arboisde Jubainville, " said Morhange frigidly. 

"My God!" The little man was going through extraordinary contortions. "Sir--Captain, how happy I am, how many excuses. .. . "

Just then, the portiére was raised. Ferradji appeared again. 

"Sir, they want me to tell you that unless you come, they will beginwithout you. "

"I am coming, I am coming. Say, Ferradji, that we will be there in amoment. Why, sir, if I had foreseen . .. It is extraordinary . .. Tofind an officer who knows Procles of Carthage and Arbois deJubainville. Again . .. But I must introduce myself. I am Etienne LeMesge, Fellow of the University. "

"Captain Morhange, " said my companion. 

I stepped forward in my turn. 

"Lieutenant de Saint-Avit. It is a fact, sir, that I am very likely toconfuse Arbois of Carthage with Procles de Jubainville. Later, I shallhave to see about filling up those gaps. But just now, I should liketo know where we are, if we are free, and if not, what occult powerholds us. You have the appearance, sir, of being sufficiently at homein this house to be able to enlighten us upon this point, which I mustconfess, I weakly consider of the first importance. "

M. Le Mesge looked at me. A rather malevolent smile twitched thecorners of his mouth. He opened his lips. .. . 

A gong sounded impatiently. 

"In good time, gentlemen, I will tell you. I will explaineverything. .. . But now you see that we must hurry. It is time forlunch and our fellow diners will get tired of waiting. "

"Our fellow diners?"

"There are two of them, " M. Le Mesge explained. "We three constitutethe European personnel of the house, that is, the fixed personnel, " heseemed to feel obliged to add, with his disquieting smile. "Twostrange fellows, gentlemen, with whom, doubtless, you will care tohave as little to do as possible. One is a churchman, narrow-minded, though a Protestant. The other is a man of the world gone astray, anold fool. "

"Pardon, " I said, "but it must have been he whom I heard last night. He was gambling: with you and the minister, doubtless?"

M. Le Mesge made a gesture of offended dignity. 

"The idea! With me, sir? It is with the Tuareg that he plays. Heteaches them every game imaginable. There, that is he who is strikingthe gong to hurry us up. It is half past nine, and the _Salle deTrente et Quarante_ opens at ten o'clock. Let us hurry. I suppose thatanyway you will not be averse to a little refreshment. "

"Indeed we shall not refuse, " Morhange replied. 

We followed M. Le Mesge along a long winding corridor with frequentsteps. The passage was dark. But at intervals rose-colored nightlights and incense burners were placed in niches cut into the solidrock. The passionate Oriental scents perfumed the darkness andcontrasted strangely with the cold air of the snowy peaks. 

From time to time, a white Targa, mute and expressionless as aphantom, would pass us and we would hear the clatter of his slippersdie away behind us. 

M. Le Mesge stopped before a heavy door covered with the same palemetal which I had noticed on the walls of the library. He opened itand stood aside to let us pass. 

Although the dining room which we entered had little in common withEuropean dining rooms, I have known many which might have envied itscomfort. Like the library, it was lighted by a great window. But Inoticed that it had an outside exposure, while that of the libraryoverlooked the garden in the center of the crown of mountains. 

No center table and none of those barbaric pieces of furniture that wecall chairs. But a great number of buffet tables of gilded wood, likethose of Venice, heavy hangings of dull and subdued colors, andcushions, Tuareg or Tunisian. In the center was a huge mat on which afeast was placed in finely woven baskets among silver pitchers andcopper basins filled with perfumed water. The sight of it filled mewith childish satisfaction. 

M. Le Mesge stepped forward and introduced us to the two persons whoalready had taken their places on the mat. 

"Mr. Spardek, " he said; and by that simple phrase I understood how farour host placed himself above vain human titles. 

The Reverend Mr. Spardek, of Manchester, bowed reservedly and askedour permission to keep on his tall, wide-brimmed hat. He was a dry, cold man, tall and thin. He ate in pious sadness, enormously. 

"Monsieur Bielowsky, " said M. Le Mesge, introducing us to the secondguest. 

"Count Casimir Bielowsky, Hetman of Jitomir, " the latter correctedwith perfect good humor as he stood up to shake hands. 

I felt at once a certain liking for the Hetman of Jitomir who was aperfect example of an old beau. His chocolate-colored hair was partedin the center (later I found out that the Hetman dyed it with aconcoction of _khol_). He had magnificent whiskers, alsochocolate-colored, in the style of the Emperor Francis Joseph. Hisnose was undeniably a little red, but so fine, so aristocratic. Hishands were marvelous. It took some thought to place the date of thestyle of the count's costume, bottle green with yellow facings, ornamented with a huge seal of silver and enamel. The recollection ofa portrait of the Duke de Morny made me decide on 1860 or 1862; andthe further chapters of this story will show that I was not far wrong. 

The count made me sit down beside him. One of his first questions wasto demand if I ever cut fives. [9]

[Footnote 9: _Tirer à cinq_, a card game played only for very highstakes. ]

"That depends on how I feel, " I replied. 

"Well said. I have not done so since 1866. I swore off. A row. Thedevil of a party. One day at Walewski's. I cut fives. Naturally Iwasn't worrying any. The other had a four. 'Idiot!' cried the littleBaron de Chaux Gisseux who was laying staggering sums on my table. Ihurled a bottle of champagne at his head. He ducked. It was MarshalBaillant who got the bottle. A scene! The matter was fixed up becausewe were both Free Masons. The Emperor made me promise not to cut fivesagain. I have kept my promise not to cut fives again. I have kept mypromise. But there are moments when it is hard. .. . "

He added in a voice steeped in melancholy:

"Try a little of this Ahaggar 1880. Excellent vintage. It is I, Lieutenant, who instructed these people in the uses of the juice ofthe vine. The vine of the palm trees is very good when it is properlyfermented, but it gets insipid in the long run. "

It was powerful, that Ahaggar 1880. We sipped it from large silvergoblets. It was fresh as Rhine wine, dry as the wine of the Hermitage. And then, suddenly, it brought back recollections of the burning winesof Portugal; it seemed sweet, fruity, an admirable wine, I tell you. 

That wine crowned the most perfect of luncheons. There were few meats, to be sure; but those few were remarkably seasoned. Profusion ofcakes, pancakes served with honey, fragrant fritters, cheese-cakes ofsour milk and dates. And everywhere, in great enamel platters orwicker jars, fruit, masses of fruit, figs, dates, pistachios, jujubes, pomegranates, apricots, huge bunches of grapes, larger than thosewhich bent the shoulders of the Hebrews in the land of Canaan, heavywatermelons cut in two, showing their moist, red pulp and their rowsof black seeds. 

I had scarcely finished one of these beautiful iced fruits, when M. LeMesge rose. 

"Gentlemen, if you are ready, " he said to Morhange and me. 

"Get away from that old dotard as soon as you can, " whispered theHetman of Jitomir to me. "The party of _Trente et Quarante_ will beginsoon. You shall see. You shall see. We go it even harder than at CoraPearl's. "

"Gentlemen, " repeated M. Le Mesge in his dry tone. 

We followed him. When the three of us were back again in the library, he said, addressing me:

"You, sir, asked a little while ago what occult power holds you here. Your manner was threatening, and I should have refused to comply hadit not been for your friend, whose knowledge enables him to appreciatebetter than you the value of the revelations I am about to make toyou. "

He touched a spring in the side of the wall. A cupboard appeared, stuffed with books. He took one. 

"You are both of you, " continued M. Le Mesge, "in the power of awoman. This woman, the sultaness, the queen, the absolute sovereign ofAhaggar, is called Antinea. Don't start, M. Morhange, you will soonunderstand. "

He opened the book and read this sentence:

"'I must warn you before I take up the subject matter: do not besurprised to hear me call the barbarians by Greek names. '"

"What is that book?" stammered Morhange, whose pallor terrified me. 

"This book, " M. Le Mesge replied very slowly, weighing his words, withan extraordinary expression of triumph, "is the greatest, the mostbeautiful, the most secret, of the dialogues of Plato; it is theCritias of Atlantis. "

"The Critias? But it is unfinished, " murmured Morhange. 

"It is unfinished in France, in Europe, everywhere else, " said M. LeMesge, "but it is finished here. Look for yourself at this copy. "

"But what connection, " repeated Morhange, while his eyes traveledavidly over the pages, "what connection can there be between thisdialogue, complete, --yes, it seems to me complete--what connectionwith this woman, Antinea? Why should it be in her possession?"

"Because, " replied the little man imperturbably, "this book is herpatent of nobility, her _Almanach de Gotha_, in a sense, do youunderstand? Because it established her prodigious genealogy: becauseshe is. .. . "

"Because she is?" repeated Morhange. 

"Because she is the grand daughter of Neptune, the last descendant ofthe Atlantides. "

IX

ATLANTIS

M. Le Mesge looked at Morhange triumphantly. It was evident that headdressed himself exclusively to Morhange, considering him aloneworthy of his confidences. 

"There have been many, sir, " he said, "both French and foreignofficers who have been brought here at the caprice of our sovereign, Antinea. You are the first to be honored by my disclosures. But youwere the pupil of Berlioux, and I owe so much to the memory of thatgreat man that it seems to me I may do him homage by imparting to oneof his disciples the unique results of my private research. "

He struck the bell. Ferradji appeared. 

"Coffee for these gentlemen, " ordered M. Le Mesge. 

He handed us a box, gorgeously decorated in the most flaming colors, full of Egyptian cigarettes. 

"I never smoke, " he explained. "But Antinea sometimes comes here. These are her cigarettes. Help yourselves, gentlemen. "

I have always had a horror of that pale tobacco which gives a barberof the Rue de la Michodière the illusion of oriental voluptuousness. But, in their way, these musk-scented cigarettes were not bad, and itwas a long time since I had used up my stock of Caporal. 

"Here are the back numbers of _Le Vie Parisienne_" said M. Le Mesgeto me. "Amuse yourself with them, if you like, while I talk to yourfriend. "

"Sir, " I replied brusquely, "it is true that I never studied withBerlioux. Nevertheless, you must allow me to listen to yourconversation: I shall hope to find something in it to amuse me. "

"As you wish, " said the little old man. 

We settled ourselves comfortably. M. Le Mesge sat down before thedesk, shot his cuffs, and commenced as follows:

"However much, gentlemen, I prize complete objectivity in matters oferudition, I cannot utterly detach my own history from that of thelast descendant of Clito and Neptune. 

"I am the creation of my own efforts. From my childhood, theprodigious impulse given to the science of history by the nineteenthcentury has affected me. I saw where my way led. I have followed it, in spite of everything. 

"In spite of everything, everything--I mean it literally. With noother resources than my own work and merit, I was received as Fellowof History and Geography at the examination of 1880. A greatexamination! Among the thirteen who were accepted there were nameswhich have since become illustrious: Julian, Bourgeois, Auerbach. .. . Ido not envy my colleagues on the summits of their official honors; Iread their works with commiseration; and the pitiful errors to whichthey are condemned by the insufficiency of their documents would amplycounterbalance my chagrin and fill me with ironic joy, had I not beenraised long since above the satisfaction of self-love. 

"When I was Professor at the Lycée du Parc at Lyons. I knew Berliouxand followed eagerly his works on African History. I had, at thattime, a very original idea for my doctor's thesis. I was going toestablish a parallel between the Berber heroine of the seventhcentury, who struggled against the Arab invader, Kahena, and theFrench heroine, Joan of Arc, who struggled against the Englishinvader. I proposed to the _Faculté des Lettres_ at Paris this titlefor my thesis: _Joan of Arc and the Tuareg_. This simple announcementgave rise to a perfect outcry in learned circles, a furor ofridicule. My friends warned me discreetly. I refused to believe them. Finally I was forced to believe when my rector summoned me before himand, after manifesting an astonishing interest in my health, askedwhether I should object to taking two years' leave on half pay. Irefused indignantly. The rector did not insist; but fifteen dayslater, a ministerial decree, with no other legal procedure, assignedme to one of the most insignificant and remote Lycées of France, atMont-de-Marsan. 

"Realize my exasperation and you will excuse the excesses to which Idelivered myself in that strange country. What is there to do inLandes, if you neither eat nor drink? I did both violently. My paymelted away in _fois gras_, in woodcocks, in fine wines. The resultcame quickly enough: in less than a year my joints began to crack likethe over-oiled axle of a bicycle that has gone a long way upon a dustytrack. A sharp attack of gout nailed me to my bed. Fortunately, inthat blessed country, the cure is in reach of the suffering. So Ideparted to Dax, at vacation time, to try the waters. 

"I rented a room on the bank of the Adour, overlooking the _Promenadedes Baignots_. A charwoman took care of it for me. She worked also foran old gentleman, a retired Examining Magistrate, President of theRoger-Ducos Society, which was a vague scientific backwater, in whichthe scholars of the neighborhood applied themselves with prodigiousincompetence to the most whimsical subjects. One afternoon I stayed inmy room on account of a very heavy rain. The good woman wasenergetically polishing the copper latch of my door. She used a pastecalled Tripoli, which she spread upon a paper and rubbed andrubbed. .. . The peculiar appearance of the paper made me curious. Iglanced at it. 'Great heavens! Where did you get this paper?' She wasperturbed. 'At my master's; he has lots of it. I tore this out of anotebook. ' 'Here are ten francs. Go and get me the notebook. '

"A quarter of an hour later, she was back with it. By good luck itlacked only one page, the one with which she had been polishing mydoor. This manuscript, this notebook, have you any idea what it was?Merely the _Voyage to Atlantis_ of the mythologist Denis de Milet, which is mentioned by Diodorus and the loss of which I had so oftenheard Berlioux deplore. [10]

[Footnote 10: How did the _Voyage to Atlantis_ arrive at Dax? I havefound, so far, only one credible hypothesis: it might have beendiscovered in Africa by the traveller, de Behagle, a member of theRoger-Ducos Society, who studied at the college of Dax, and later, onseveral occasions, visited the town. (Note by M. Leroux. )]

"This inestimable document contained numerous quotations from theCritias. It gave an abstract of the illustrious dialogue, the soleexisting copy of which you held in your hands a little while ago. Itestablished past controversy the location of the stronghold of theAtlantides, and demonstrated that this site, which is denied byscience, was not submerged by the waves, as is supposed by the rareand timorous defenders of the Atlantide hypothesis. He called it the'central Mazycian range, ' You know there is no longer any doubt as tothe identification of the Mazyces of Herodotus with the people ofImoschaoch, the Tuareg. But the manuscript of Denys unquestionablyidentifies the historical Mazyces with the Atlantides of the supposedlegend. 

"I learned, therefore, from Denys, not only that the central part ofAtlantis, the cradle and home of the dynasty of Neptune, had not sunkin the disaster described by Plato as engulfing the rest of theAtlantide isle, but also that it corresponded to the Tuareg Ahaggar, and that, in this Ahaggar, at least in his time, the noble dynasty ofNeptune was supposed to be still existent. 

"The historians of Atlantis put the date of the cataclysm whichdestroyed all or part of that famous country at nine thousand yearsbefore Christ. If Denis de Milet, who wrote scarcely three thousandyears ago, believed that in his time, the dynastic issue of Neptunewas still ruling its dominion, you will understand that I thoughtimmediately--what has lasted nine thousand years may last eleventhousand. From that instant I had only one aim: to find the possibledescendants of the Atlantides, and, since I had many reasons forsupposing them to be debased and ignorant of their original splendor, to inform them of their illustrious descent. 

"You will easily understand that I imparted none of my intentions tomy superiors at the University. To solicit their approval or eventheir permission, considering the attitude they had taken toward me, would have been almost certainly to invite confinement in a cell. So Iraised what I could on my own account, and departed without trumpet ordrum for Oran. On the first of October I reached In-Salah. Stretchedat my ease beneath a palm tree, at the oasis, I took infinite pleasurein considering how, that very day, the principal of Mont-de-Marsan, beside himself, struggling to control twenty horrible urchins howlingbefore the door of an empty class room, would be telegraphing wildlyin all directions in search of his lost history professor. "

M. Le Mesge stopped and looked at us to mark his satisfaction. 

I admit that I forgot my dignity and I forgot the affectation he hadsteadily assumed of talking only to Morhange. 

"You will pardon me, sir, if your discourse interests me more than Ihad anticipated. But you know very well that I lack the fundamentalinstruction necessary to understand you. You speak of the dynasty ofNeptune. What is this dynasty, from which, I believe, you trace thedescent of Antinea? What is her rôle in the story of Atlantis?"

M. Le Mesge smiled with condescension, meantime winking at Morhangewith the eye nearest to him. Morhange was listening withoutexpression, without a word, chin in hand, elbow on knee. 

"Plato will answer for me, sir, " said the Professor. 

And he added, with an accent of inexpressible pity:

"Is it really possible that you have never made the acquaintance ofthe introduction to the Critias?"

He placed on the table the book by which Morhange had been sostrangely moved. He adjusted his spectacles and began to read. Itseemed as if the magic of Plato vibrated through and transfigured thisridiculous little old man. 

"'Having drawn by lot the different parts of the earth, the godsobtained, some a larger, and some, a smaller share. It was thus thatNeptune, having received in the division the isle of Atlantis, came toplace the children he had had by a mortal in one part of that isle. It was not far from the sea, a plain situated in the midst of theisle, the most beautiful, and, they say, the most fertile of plains. About fifty stades from that plain, in the middle of the isle, was amountain. There dwelt one of those men who, in the very beginning, wasborn of the Earth, Evenor, with his wife, Leucippe. They had only onedaughter, Clito. She was marriageable when her mother and father died, and Neptune, being enamored of her, married her. Neptune fortified themountain where she dwelt by isolating it. He made alternate girdles ofsea and land, the one smaller, the others greater, two of earth andthree of water, and centered them round the isle in such a manner thatthey were at all parts equally distant!. .. "

M. Le Mesge broke off his reading. 

"Does this arrangement recall nothing to you?" he queried. 

"Morhange, Morhange!" I stammered. "You remember--our route yesterday, our abduction, the two corridors that we had to cross before arrivingat this mountain?. .. The girdles of earth and of water?. .. Twotunnels, two enclosures of earth?"

"Ha! Ha!" chuckled M. Le Mesge. 

He smiled as he looked at me. I understood that this smile meant: "Canhe be less obtuse than I had supposed?"

As if with a mighty effort, Morhange broke the silence. 

"I understand well enough, I understand. .. . The three girdles ofwater. .. . But then, you are supposing, sir, --an explanation theingeniousness of which I do not contest--you are supposing the exacthypothesis of the Saharan sea!"

"I suppose it, and I can prove it, " replied the irascible little oldchap, banging his fist on the table. "I know well enough what Schirmerand the rest have advanced against it. I know it better than you do. Iknow all about it, sir. I can present all the proofs for yourconsideration. And in the meantime, this evening at dinner, you willno doubt enjoy some excellent fish. And you will tell me if thesefish, caught in the lake that you can see from this window, seem toyou fresh water fish. 

"You must realize, " he continued, "the mistake of those who, believingin Atlantis, have sought to explain the cataclysm in which theysuppose the island to have sunk. Without exception, they have thoughtthat it was swallowed up. Actually, there has not been an immersion. There has been an emersion. New lands have emerged from the Atlanticwave. The desert has replaced the sea, the _sebkhas_, the salt lakes, the Triton lakes, the sandy Syrtes are the desolate vestiges of thefree sea water over which, in former days, the fleets swept with afair wind towards the conquest of Attica. Sand swallows upcivilization better than water. To-day there remains nothing of thebeautiful isle that the sea and winds kept gay and verdant but thischalky mass. Nothing has endured in this rocky basin, cut off foreverfrom the living world, but the marvelous oasis that you have at yourfeet, these red fruits, this cascade, this blue lake, sacred witnessesto the golden age that is gone. Last evening, in coming here, you hadto cross the five enclosures: the three belts of water, dry forever;the two girdles of earth through which are hollowed the passages youtraversed on camel back, where, formerly, the triremes floated. Theonly thing that, in this immense catastrophe, has preserved itslikeness to its former state, is this mountain, the mountain whereNeptune shut up his well-beloved Clito, the daughter of Evenor andLeucippe, the mother of Atlas, and the ancestress of Antinea, thesovereign under whose dominion you are about to enter forever. "

"Sir, " Morhange with the most exquisite courtesy, "it would be only anatural anxiety which would urge us to inquire the reasons and the endof this dominion. But behold to what extent your revelation interestsme; I defer this question of private interest. Of late, in twocaverns, it has been my fortune to discover Tifinar inscriptions ofthis name, Antinea. My comrade is witness that I took it for a Greekname. I understand now, thanks to you and the divine Plato, that Ineed no longer feel surprised to hear a barbarian called by a Greekname. But I am no less perplexed as to the etymology of the word. Canyou enlighten me?"

"I shall certainly not fail you there, sir, " said M. Le Mesge. "I maytell you, too, that you are not the first to put to me that question. Most of the explorers that I have seen enter here in the past tenyears have been attracted in the same way, intrigued by this Greekwork reproduced in Tifinar. I have even arranged a fairly exactcatalogue of these inscriptions and the caverns where they are to bemet with. All, or almost all, are accompanied by this legend:_Antinea. Here commences her domain_. I myself have had repainted withochre such as were beginning to be effaced. But, to return to what Iwas telling you before, none of the Europeans who have followed thisepigraphic mystery here, have kept their anxiety to solve thisetymology once they found themselves in Antinea's palace. They allbecome otherwise preoccupied. I might make many disclosures as to thelittle real importance which purely scientific interests possess evenfor scholars, and the quickness with which they sacrifice them to themost mundane considerations--their own lives, for instance. "

"Let us take that up another time, sir, if it is satisfactory to you, "said Morhange, always admirably polite. 

"This digression had only one point, sir: to show you that I do notcount you among these unworthy scholars. You are really eager to knowthe origin of this name, _Antinea_, and that before knowing what kindof woman it belongs to and her motives for holding you and thisgentleman as her prisoners. "

I stared hard at the little old man. But he spoke with profoundseriousness. 

"So much the better for you, my boy, " I thought. "Otherwise itwouldn't have taken me long to send you through the window to air yourironies at your ease. The law of gravity ought not to be topsy-turvyhere at Ahaggar. "

"You, no doubt, formulated several hypotheses when you firstencountered the name, Antinea, " continued M. Le Mesge, imperturbableunder my fixed gaze, addressing himself to Morhange. "Would you objectto repeating them to me?"

"Not at all, sir, " said Morhange. 

And, very composedly, he enumerated the etymological suggestions Ihave given previously. 

The little man with the cherry-colored shirt front rubbed his hands. 

"Very good, " he admitted with an accent of intense jubilation. "Amazingly good, at least for one with only the modicum of Greek thatyou possess. But it is all none the less false, super-false. "

"It is because I suspected as much that I put my question to you, "said Morhange blandly. 

"I will not keep you longer in suspense, " said M. Le Mesge. "The word, Antinea, is composed as follows: _ti_ is nothing but a Tifinaraddition to an essentially Greek name. _Ti_ is the Berber femininearticle. We have several examples of this combination. Take _Tipasa_, the North African town. The name means the whole, from _ti_ and from[Greek: nap]. So, _tinea_ signifies the new, from _ti_ and from[Greek: ea]. "

"And the prefix, _an_?" queried Morhang. 

"Is it possible, sir, that I have put myself to the trouble of talkingto you for a solid hour about the Critias with such trifling effect?It is certain that the prefix _an_, alone, has no meaning. You willunderstand that it has one, when I tell you that we have here a verycurious case of apocope. You must not read _an_; you must read _atlan_. _Atl_ has been lost, by apocope; _an_ has survived. To sum up, Antineais composed in the following manner: [Greek: ti-nea--atl'An]. And itsmeaning, _the new Atlantis_, is dazzlingly apparent from thisdemonstration. "

I looked at Morhange. His astonishment was without bounds. The Berberprefix _ti_ had literally stunned him. 

"Have you had occasion, sir, to verify this very ingenious etymology?"he was finally able to gasp out. 

"You have only to glance over these few books, " said M. Le Mesgedisdainfully. 

He opened successively five, ten, twenty cupboards. An enormouslibrary was spread out to our view. 

"Everything, everything--it is all here, " murmured Morhange, with anastonishing inflection of terror and admiration. 

"Everything that is worth consulting, at any rate, " said M. Le Mesge. "All the great books, whose loss the so-called learned world deploresto-day. "

"And how has it happened?"

"Sir, you distress me. I thought you familiar with certain events. Youare forgetting, then, the passage where Pliny the Elder speaks of thelibrary of Carthage and the treasures which were accumulated there? In146, when that city fell under the blows of the knave, Scipio, theincredible collection of illiterates who bore the name of the RomanSenate had only the profoundest contempt for these riches. Theypresented them to the native kings. This is how Mantabal received thispriceless heritage; it was transmitted to his son and grandson, Hiempsal, Juba I, Juba II, the husband of the admirable CleopatraSelene, the daughter of the great Cleopatra and Mark Antony. CleopatraSelene had a daughter who married an Atlantide king. This is howAntinea, the daughter of Neptune, counts among her ancestors theimmortal queen of Egypt. That is how, by following the laws ofinheritance, the remains of the library of Carthage, enriched by theremnants of the library of Alexandria, are actually before your eyes. 

"Science fled from man. While he was building those monstrous Babelsof pseudo-science in Berlin, London, Paris, Science was taking refugein this desert corner of Ahaggar. They may well forge their hypothesesback there, based on the loss of the mysterious works of antiquity:these works are not lost. They are here. They are here: the Hebrew, the Chaldean, the Assyrian books. Here, the great Egyptian traditionswhich inspired Solon, Herodotus and Plato. Here, the Greekmythologists, the magicians of Roman Africa, the Indian mystics, allthe treasures, in a word, for the lack of which contemporarydissertations are poor laughable things. Believe me, he is wellavenged, the little universitarian whom they took for a madman, whomthey defied. I have lived, I live, I shall live in a perpetual burstof laughter at their false and garbled erudition. And when I shall bedead, Error, --thanks to the jealous precaution of Neptune taken toisolate his well-beloved Clito from the rest of the world, --Error, Isay, will continue to reign as sovereign mistress over their pitifulcompositions. "

"Sir, " said Morhange in grave voice, "you have just affirmed theinfluence of Egypt on the civilizations of the people here. Forreasons which some day, perhaps, I shall have occasion to explain toyou, I would like to have proof of that relationship. "

"We need not wait for that, sir, " said M. Le Mesge. Then, in my turn, I advanced. 

"Two words, if you please, sir, " I said brutally. "I will not hidefrom you that these historical discussions seem to me absolutely outof place. It is not my fault if you have had trouble with theUniversity, and if you are not to-day at the College of France orelsewhere. For the moment, just one thing concerns me: to know justwhat this lady, Antinea, wants with us. My comrade would like to knowher relation with ancient Egypt: very well. For my part, I desireabove everything to know her relations with the government of Algeriaand the Arabian Bureau. "

M. Le Mesge gave a strident laugh. 

"I am going to give you an answer that will satisfy you both, " hereplied. 

And he added:

"Follow me. It is time that you should learn. "

X

THE RED MARBLE HALL

We passed through an interminable series of stairs and corridorsfollowing M. Le Mesge. 

"You lose all sense of direction in this labyrinth, " I muttered toMorhange. 

"Worse still, you will lose your head, " answered my companion _sottovoce_. "This old fool is certainly very learned; but God knows what heis driving at. However, he has promised that we are soon to know. "

M. Le Mesge had stopped before a heavy dark door, all incrusted withstrange symbols. Turning the lock with difficulty, he opened it. 

"Enter, gentlemen, I beg you, " he said. 

A gust of cold air struck us full in the face. The room we wereentering was chill as a vault. 

At first, the darkness allowed me to form no idea of its proportions. The lighting, purposely subdued, consisted of twelve enormous copperlamps, placed column-like upon the ground and burning with brilliantred flames. As we entered, the wind from the corridor made the flamesflicker, momentarily casting about us our own enlarged and misshapenshadows. Then the gust died down, and the flames, no longer flurried, again licked up the darkness with their motionless red tongues. 

These twelve giant lamps (each one about ten feet high) were arrangedin a kind of crown, the diameter of which must have been about fiftyfeet. In the center of this circle was a dark mass, all streaked withtrembling red reflections. When I drew nearer, I saw it was a bubblingfountain. It was the freshness of this water which had maintained thetemperature of which I have spoken. 

Huge seats were cut in the central rock from which gushed themurmuring, shadowy fountain. They were heaped with silky cushions. Twelve incense burners, within the circle of red lamps, formed asecond crown, half as large in diameter. Their smoke mounted towardthe vault, invisible in the darkness, but their perfume, combined withthe coolness and sound of the water, banished from the soul all otherdesire than to remain there forever. 

M. Le Mesge made us sit down in the center of the hall, on theCyclopean seats. He seated himself between us. 

"In a few minutes, " he said, "your eyes will grow accustomed to theobscurity. "

I noticed that he spoke in a hushed voice, as if he were in church. 

Little by little, our eyes did indeed grow used to the red light. Onlythe lower part of the great hall was illuminated. The whole vault wasdrowned in shadow and its height was impossible to estimate. Vaguely, I could perceive overhead a great smooth gold chandelier, flecked, like everything else, with sombre red reflections. But there was nomeans of judging the length of the chain by which it hung from thedark ceiling. 

The marble of the pavement was of so high a polish, that the greattorches were reflected even there. 

This room, I repeat, was round a perfect circle of which the fountainat our backs was the center. 

We sat facing the curving walls. Before long, we began to be able tosee them. They were of peculiar construction, divided into a seriesof niches, broken, ahead of us, by the door which had just opened togive us passage, behind us, by a second door, a still darker holewhich I divined in the darkness when I turned around. From one door tothe other, I counted sixty niches, making, in all, one hundred andtwenty. Each was about ten feet high. Each contained a kind of case, larger above than below, closed only at the lower end. In all thesecases, except two just opposite me, I thought I could discern abrilliant shape, a human shape certainly, something like a statue ofvery pale bronze. In the arc of the circle before me, I countedclearly thirty of these strange statues. 

What were these statues? I wanted to see. I rose. 

M. Le Mesge put his hand on my arm. 

"In good time, " he murmured in the same low voice, "all in good time. "

The Professor was watching the door by which we had entered the hall, and from behind which we could hear the sound of footsteps becomingmore and more distinct. 

It opened quietly to admit three Tuareg slaves. Two of them werecarrying a long package on their shoulders; the third seemed to betheir chief. 

At a sign from him, they placed the package on the ground and drew outfrom one of the niches the case which it contained. 

"You may approach, gentlemen, " said M. Le Mesge. 

He motioned the three Tuareg to withdraw several paces. 

"You asked me, not long since, for some proof of the Egyptianinfluence on this country, " said M. Le Mesge. "What do you say to thatcase, to begin with?"

As he spoke, he pointed to the case that the servants had depositedupon the ground after they took it from its niche. 

Morhange uttered a thick cry. 

We had before us one of those cases designed for the preservation ofmummies. The same shiny wood, the same bright decorations, the onlydifference being that here Tifinar writing replaced the hieroglyphics. The form, narrow at the base, broader above, ought to have been enoughto enlighten us. 

I have already said that the lower half of this large case wasclosed, giving the whole structure the appearance of a rectangularwooden shoe. 

M. Le Mesge knelt and fastened on the lower part of the case, a squareof white cardboard, a large label, that he had picked up from hisdesk, a few minutes before, on leaving the library. 

"You may read, " he said simply, but still in the same low tone. 

I knelt also, for the light of the great candelabra was scarcelysufficient to read the label where, none the less, I recognized theProfessor's handwriting. 

It bore these few words, in a large round hand:

"Number 53. Major Sir Archibald Russell. Born at Richmond, July 5, 1860. Died at Ahaggar, December 3, 1896. "

I leapt to my feet. 

"Major Russell!" I exclaimed. 

"Not so loud, not so loud, " said M. Le Mesge. "No one speaks out loudhere. "

"The Major Russell, " I repeated, obeying his injunction as if in spiteof myself, "who left Khartoum last year, to explore Sokoto?"

"The same, " replied the Professor. 

"And . .. Where is Major Russell?"

"He is there, " replied M. Le Mesge. 

The Professor made a gesture. The Tuareg approached. 

A poignant silence reigned in the mysterious hall, broken only by thefresh splashing of the fountain. 

The three Negroes were occupied in undoing the package that they hadput down near the painted case. Weighed down with wordless horror, Morhange and I stood watching. 

Soon, a rigid form, a human form, appeared. A red gleam played overit. We had before us, stretched out upon the ground, a statue of palebronze, wrapped in a kind of white veil, a statue like those allaround us, upright in their niches. It seemed to fix us with animpenetrable gaze. 

"Sir Archibald Russell, " murmured M. Le Mesge slowly. 

Morhange approached, speechless, but strong enough to lift up thewhite veil. For a long, long time he gazed at the sad bronze statue. 

"A mummy, a mummy?" he said finally. "You deceive yourself, sir, thisis no mummy. "

"Accurately speaking, no, " replied M. Le Mesge. "This is not a mummy. None the less, you have before you the mortal remains of Sir ArchibaldRussell. I must point out to you, here, my dear sir, that theprocesses of embalming used by Antinea differ from the processesemployed in ancient Egypt. Here, there is no natron, nor bands, norspices. The industry of Ahaggar, in a single effort, has achieved aresult obtained by European science only after long experiments. Imagine my surprise, when I arrived here and found that they wereemploying a method I supposed known only to the civilized world. "

M. Le Mesge struck a light tap with his finger on the forehead of SirArchibald Russell. It rang like metal. 

"It is bronze, " I said. "That is not a human forehead: it is bronze. "

M. Le Mesge shrugged his shoulders. 

"It is a human forehead, " he affirmed curtly, "and not bronze. Bronzeis darker, sir. This is the great unknown metal of which Plato speaksin the Critias, and which is something between gold and silver: it isthe special metal of the mountains of the Atlantides. It is_orichalch_. "

Bending again, I satisfied myself that this metal was the same as thatwith which the walls of the library were overcast. 

"It is orichalch, " continued M. Le Mesge. "You look as if you had noidea how a human body can look like a statue of orichalch. Come, Captain Morhange, you whom I gave credit for a certain amount ofknowledge, have you never heard of the method of Dr. Variot, by whicha human body can be preserved without embalming? Have you never readthe book of that practitioner?[11] He explains a method calledelectro-plating. The skin is coated with a very thin layer of silversalts, to make it a conductor. The body then is placed in a solution, of copper sulphate, and the polar currents do their work. The body ofthis estimable English major has been metalized in the same manner, except that a solution of orichalch sulphate, a very rare substance, has been substituted for that of copper sulphate. Thus, instead of thestatue of a poor slave, a copper statue, you have before you a statueof metal more precious than silver or gold, in a word, a statue worthyof the granddaughter of Neptune. "

[Footnote 11: Variot: _L'anthropologie galvanique_. Paris, 1890. (Noteby M. Leroux. )]

M. Le Mesge waved his arm. The black slaves seized the body. In a fewseconds, they slid the orichalch ghost into its painted wooden sheath. That was set on end and slid into its niche, beside the niche where anexactly similar sheath was labelled "Number 52. "

Upon finishing their task, they retired without a word. A draught ofcold air from the door again made the flames of the copper torchesflicker and threw great shadows about us. 

Morhange and I remained as motionless as the pale metal specters whichsurrounded us. Suddenly I pulled myself together and staggered forwardto the niche beside that in which they just had laid the remains ofthe English major. I looked for the label. 

Supporting myself against the red marble wall, I read:

"Number 52. Captain Laurent Deligne. Born at Paris, July 22, 1861. Died at Ahaggar, October 30, 1896. "

"Captain Deligne!" murmured Morhange. "He left Colomb-Béchar in 1895for Timmimoun and no more has been heard of him since then. "

"Exactly, " said M. Le Mesge, with a little nod of approval. 

"Number 51, " read Morhange with chattering teeth. "Colonel vonWittman, born at Jena in 1855. Died at Ahaggar, May 1, 1896. .. . Colonel Wittman, the explorer of Kanem, who disappeared off Agadès. "

"Exactly, " said M. Le Mesge again. 

"Number 50, " I read in my turn, steadying myself against the wall, soas not to fall. "Marquis Alonzo d'Oliveira, born at Cadiz, February21, 1868. Died at Ahaggar, February 1, 1896. Oliveira, who was goingto Araouan. "

"Exactly, " said M. Le Mesge again. "That Spaniard was one of the besteducated. I used to have interesting discussions with him on the exactgeographical position of the kingdom of Antée. "

"Number 49, " said Morhange in a tone scarcely more than a whisper. "Lieutenant Woodhouse, born at Liverpool, September 16, 1870. Died atAhaggar, October 4, 1895. "

"Hardly more than a child, " said M. Le Mesge. 

"Number 48, " I said. "Lieutenant Louis de Maillefeu, born at Provins, the. .. . "

I did not finish. My voice choked. 

Louis de Maillefeu, my best friend, the friend of my childhood and ofSaint-Cyr. .. . I looked at him and recognized him under the metalliccoating. Louis de Maillefeu!

I laid my forehead against the cold wall and, with shaking shoulders, began to sob. 

I heard the muffled voice of Morhange speaking to the Professor:

"Sir, this has lasted long enough. Let us make an end of it. "

"He wanted to know, " said M. Le Mesge. "What am I to do?"

I went up to him and seized his shoulders. 

"What happened to him? What did he die of?"

"Just like the others, " the Professor replied, "just like LieutenantWoodhouse, like Captain Deligne, like Major Russell, like Colonel vonWittman, like the forty-seven of yesterday and all those ofto-morrow. "

"Of what did they die?" Morhange demanded imperatively in his turn. 

The Professor looked at Morhange. I saw my comrade grow pale. 

"Of what did they die, sir? _They died of love_. "

And he added in a very low, very grave voice:

"Now you know. "

Gently and with a tact which we should hardly have suspected in him, M. Le Mesge drew us away from the statues. A moment later, Morhangeand I found ourselves again seated, or rather sunk among the cushionsin the center of the room. The invisible fountain murmured its plaintat our feet. 

Le Mesge sat between us. 

"Now you know, " he repeated. "You know, but you do not yetunderstand. "

Then, very slowly, he said:

"You are, as they have been, the prisoners of Antinea. And vengeanceis due Antinea. "

"Vengeance?" said Morhange, who had regained his self-possession. "Forwhat, I beg to ask? What have the lieutenant and I done to Atlantis?How have we incurred her hatred?"

"It is an old quarrel, a very old quarrel, " the Professor repliedgravely. "A quarrel which long antedates you, M. Morhange. "

"Explain yourself, I beg of you, Professor. "

"You are Man. She is a Woman, " said the dreamy voice of M. Le Mesge. "The whole matter lies there. "

"Really, sir, I do not see . .. We do not see. "

"You are going to understand. Have you really forgotten to what anextent the beautiful queens of antiquity had just cause to complain ofthe strangers whom fortune brought to their borders? The poet, VictorHugo, pictured their detestable acts well enough in his colonial poemcalled _la Fille d'O-Taiti_. Wherever we look, we see similar examplesof fraud and ingratitude. These gentlemen made free use of the beautyand the riches of the lady. Then, one fine morning, they disappeared. She was indeed lucky if her lover, having observed the positioncarefully, did not return with ships and troops of occupation. "

"Your learning charms me, " said Morhange. "Continue. "

"Do you need examples? Alas! they abound. Think of the cavalierfashion in which Ulysses treated Calypso, Diomedes Callirhoë. Whatshould I say of Theseus and Ariadne? Jason treated Medea withinconceivable lightness. The Romans continued the tradition with stillgreater brutality. Aenaeus, who has many characteristics in commonwith the Reverend Spardek, treated Dido in a most undeserved fashion. Caesar was a laurel-crowned blackguard in his relations with thedivine Cleopatra. Titus, that hypocrite Titus, after having lived awhole year in Idummea at the expense of the plaintive Berenice, tookher back to Rome only to make game of her. It is time that the sons ofJaphet paid this formidable reckoning of injuries to the daughters ofShem. 

"A woman has taken it upon herself to re-establish the great Hegelianlaw of equilibrium for the benefit of her sex. Separated from theAryan world by the formidable precautions of Neptune, she draws theyoungest and bravest to her. Her body is condescending, while herspirit is inexorable. She takes what these bold young men can giveher. She lends them her body, while her soul dominates them. She isthe first sovereign who has never been made the slave of passion, evenfor a moment. She has never been obliged to regain her self-mastery, for she never has lost it. She is the only woman who has been able todisassociate those two inextricable things, love and voluptuousness. "

M. Le Mesge paused a moment and then went on. 

"Once every day, she comes to this vault. She stops before the niches;she meditates before the rigid statues; she touches the cold bosoms, so burning when she knew them. Then, after dreaming before the emptyniche where the next victim soon will sleep his eternal sleep in acold case of orichalch, she returns nonchalantly where he is waitingfor her. "

The Professor stopped speaking. The fountain again made itself heardin the midst of the shadow. My pulses beat, my head seemed on fire. Afever was consuming me. 

"And all of them, " I cried, regardless of the place, "all of themcomplied! They submitted! Well, she has only to come and she will seewhat will happen. "

Morhange was silent. 

"My dear sir, " said M. Le Mesge in a very gentle voice, "you arespeaking like a child. You do not know. You have not seen Antinea. Letme tell you one thing: that among those"--and with a sweeping gesturehe indicated the silent circle of statues--"there were men ascourageous as you and perhaps less excitable. I remember one of themespecially well, a phlegmatic Englishman who now is resting underNumber 32. When he first appeared before Antinea, he was smoking acigar. And, like all the rest, he bent before the gaze of hissovereign. 

"Do not speak until you have seen her. A university training hardlyfits one to discourse upon matters of passion, and I feel scarcelyqualified, myself, to tell you what Antinea is. I only affirm this, that when you have seen her, you will remember nothing else. Family, country, honor, you will renounce everything for her. "

"Everything?" asked Morhange in a calm voice. 

"Everything, " Le Mesge insisted emphatically. "You will forget all, you will renounce all. "

From outside, a faint sound came to us. 

Le Mesge consulted his watch. 

"In any case, you will see. "

The door opened. A tall white Targa, the tallest we had yet seen inthis remarkable abode, entered and came toward us. 

He bowed and touched me lightly on the shoulder. 

"Follow him, " said M. Le Mesge. 

Without a word, I obeyed. 

XI

ANTINEA

My guide and I passed along another long corridor. My excitementincreased. I was impatient for one thing only, to come face to facewith that woman, to tell her. .. . So far as anything else wasconcerned, I already was done for. 

I was mistaken in hoping that the adventure would take an heroic turnat once. In real life, these contrasts never are definitely markedout. I should have remembered from many past incidents that theburlesque was regularly mixed with the tragic in my life. 

We reached a little transparent door. My guide stood aside to let mepass. 

I found myself in the most luxurious of dressing-rooms. A ground glassceiling diffused a gay rosy light over the marble floor. The firstthing I noticed was a clock, fastened to the wall. In place of thefigures for the hours, were the signs of the Zodiac. The small handhad not yet reached the sign of Capricorn. 

Only three o'clock!

The day seemed to have lasted a century already. .. . And only a littlemore than half of it was gone. 

Another idea came to me, and a convulsive laugh bent me double. 

"Antinea wants me to be at my best when I meet her. "

A mirror of orichalch formed one whole side of the room. Glancing intoit, I realized that in all decency there was nothing exaggerated inthe demand. 

My untrimmed beard, the frightful layer of dirt which lay about myeyes and furrowed my cheeks, my clothing, spotted by all the clay ofthe Sahara and torn by all the thorns of Ahaggar--all this made meappear a pitiable enough suitor. 

I lost no time in undressing and plunging into the porphry bath in thecenter of the room. A delicious drowsiness came over me in thatperfumed water. A thousand little jars, spread on a costly carved wooddressing-table, danced before my eyes. They were of all sizes andcolors, carved in a very transparent kind of jade. The warm humidityof the atmosphere hastened my relaxation. 

I still had strength to think, "The devil take Atlantis and the vaultand Le Mesge. "

Then I fell asleep in the bath. 

When I opened my eyes again, the little hand of the clock had almostreached the sign of Taurus. Before me, his black hands braced on theedge of the bath, stood a huge Negro, bare-faced and bare-armed, hisforehead bound with an immense orange turban. 

He looked at me and showed his white teeth in a silent laugh. 

"Who is this fellow?"

The Negro laughed harder. Without saying a word, he lifted me like afeather out of the perfumed water, now of a color on which I shall notdwell. 

In no time at all, I was stretched out on an inclined marble table. 

The Negro began to massage me vigorously. 

"More gently there, fellow!"

My masseur did not reply, but laughed and rubbed still harder. 

"Where do you come from? Kanem? Torkou? You laugh too much for aTarga. "

Unbroken silence. The Negro was as speechless as he was hilarious. 

"After all, I am making a fool of myself, " I said, giving up the case. "Such as he is, he is more agreeable than Le Mesge with hisnightmarish erudition. But, on my word, what a recruit he would be forHamman on the rue des Mathurins!"

"Cigarette, sidi?"

Without awaiting my reply, he placed a cigarette between my lips andlighted it, and resumed his task of polishing every inch of me. 

"He doesn't talk much, but he is obliging, " I thought. 

And I sent a puff of smoke into his face. 

This pleasantry seemed to delight him immensely. He showed hispleasure by giving me great slaps. 

When he had dressed me down sufficiently, he took a little jar fromthe dressing-table and began to rub me with a rose-colored ointment. Weariness seemed to fly away from my rejuvenated muscles. 

A stroke on a copper gong. My masseur disappeared. A stunted oldNegress entered, dressed in the most tawdry tinsel. She was talkativeas a magpie, but at first I did not understand a word in theinterminable string she unwound, while she took first my hands, thenmy feet, and polished the nails with determined grimaces. 

Another stroke on the gong. The old woman gave place to another Negro, grave, this time, and dressed all in white with a knitted skull cap onhis oblong head. It was the barber, and a remarkably dexterous one. Hequickly trimmed my hair, and, on my word, it was well done. Then, without asking me what style I preferred, he shaved me clean. 

I looked with pleasure at my face, once more visible. 

"Antinea must like the American type, " I thought. "What an affront tothe memory of her worthy grandfather, Neptune!"

The gay Negro entered and placed a package on the divan. The barberdisappeared. I was somewhat astonished to observe that the package, which my new valet opened carefully, contained a suit of whiteflannels exactly like those French officers wear in Algeria in summer. 

The wide trousers seemed made to my measure. The tunic fitted withouta wrinkle, and my astonishment was unbounded at observing that it evenhad two gilt _galons_, the insignia of my rank, braided on the cuffs. For shoes, there were slippers of red Morocco leather, with goldornaments. The underwear, all of silk, seemed to have come straightfrom the rue de la Paix. 

"Dinner was excellent, " I murmured, looking at myself in the mirrorwith satisfaction. "The apartment is perfectly arranged. Yes, but. .. . "

I could not repress a shudder when I suddenly recalled that room ofred marble. 

The clock struck half past four. 

Someone rapped gently on the door. The tall white Targa, who hadbrought me, appeared in the doorway. 

He stepped forward, touched me on the arm and signed for me to follow. 

Again I followed him. 

We passed through interminable corridors. I was disturbed, but thewarm water had given me a certain feeling of detachment. And aboveall, more than I wished to admit, I had a growing sense of livelycuriosity. If, at that moment, someone had offered to lead me back tothe route across the white plain near Shikh-Salah, would I haveaccepted? Hardly. 

I tried to feel ashamed of my curiosity. I thought of Maillefeu. 

"He, too, followed this corridor. And now he is down there, in the redmarble hall. "

I had no time to linger over this reminiscence. I was suddenly bowledover, thrown to the ground, as if by a sort of meteor. The corridorwas dark; I could see nothing. I heard only a mocking growl. 

The white Targa had flattened himself back against the wall. 

"Good, " I mumbled, picking myself up, "the deviltries are beginning. "

We continued on our way. A glow different from that of the rose nightlights soon began to light up the corridor. 

We reached a high bronze door, in which a strange lacy design hadbeen cut in filigree. A clear gong sounded, and the double doorsopened part way. The Targa remained in the corridor, closing the doorsafter me. 

I took a few steps forward mechanically, then paused, rooted to thespot, and rubbed my eyes. 

I was dazzled by the sight of the sky. 

Several hours of shaded light had unaccustomed me to daylight. Itpoured in through one whole side of the huge room. 

The room was in the lower part of this mountain, which was morehoneycombed with corridors and passages than an Egyptian pyramid. Itwas on a level with the garden which I had seen in the morning fromthe balcony, and seemed to be a continuation of it; the carpetextended out under the great palm trees and the birds flew about theforest of pillars in the room. 

By contrast, the half of the room untouched by direct light from theoasis seemed dark. The sun, setting behind the mountain, painted thegarden paths with rose and flamed with red upon the traditionalflamingo which stood with one foot raised at the edge of the sapphirelake. 

Suddenly I was bowled over a second time. 

I felt a warm, silky touch, a burning breath on my neck. Again themocking growl which had so disturbed me in the corridor. 

With a wrench, I pulled myself free and sent a chance blow at myassailant. The cry, this time of pain and rage, broke out again. 

It was echoed by a long peal of laughter. Furious, I turned to lookfor the insolent onlooker, thinking to speak my mind. And then myglance stood still. 

Antinea was before me. 

In the dimmest part of the room, under a kind of arch lit by the mauverays from a dozen incense-lamps, four women lay on a heap ofmany-colored cushions and rare white Persian rugs. 

I recognized the first three as Tuareg women, of a splendid regularbeauty, dressed in magnificent robes of white silk embroidered ingold. The fourth, very dark skinned, almost negroid, seemed younger. A tunic of red silk enhanced the dusk of her face, her arms and herbare feet. The four were grouped about a sort of throne of white rugs, covered with a gigantic lion's skin, on which, half raised on oneelbow, lay Antinea. 

Antinea! Whenever I saw her after that, I wondered if I had reallylooked at her before, so much more beautiful did I find her. Morebeautiful? Inadequate word. Inadequate language! But is it really thefault of the language or of those who abuse the word?

One could not stand before her without recalling the woman for whomEphractoeus overcame Atlas, of her for whom Sapor usurped the scepterof Ozymandias, for whom Mamylos subjugated Susa and Tentyris, for whomAntony fled. .. . 

 _O tremblant coeur humain, si jamais tu vibras C'est dans l'étreinte altière et chaude de ses bras_. 

An Egyptian _klaft_ fell over her abundant blue-black curls. Its twopoints of heavy, gold-embroidered cloth extended to her slim hips. Thegolden serpent, emerald-eyed, was clasped about her little round, determined forehead, darting its double tongue of rubies over herhead. 

She wore a tunic of black chiffon shot with gold, very light, veryfull, slightly gathered in by a white muslin scarf embroidered withiris in black pearls. 

That was Antinea's costume. But what was she beneath all this? A slimyoung girl, with long green eyes and the slender profile of a hawk. Amore intense Adonis. A child queen of Sheba, but with a look, a smile, such as no Oriental ever had. A miracle of irony and freedom. 

I did not see her body. Indeed I should not have thought of looking atit, had I had the strength. And that, perhaps, was the mostextraordinary thing about that first impression. In that unforgettablemoment nothing would have seemed to me more horribly sacrilegious thanto think of the fifty victims in the red marble hall, of the fiftyyoung men who had held that slender body in their arms. 

She was still laughing at me. 

"King Hiram, " she called. 

I turned and saw my enemy. 

On the capital of one of the columns, twenty feet above the floor, asplendid leopard was crouched. He still looked surly from the blow Ihad dealt him. 

"King Hiram, " Antinea repeated. "Come here. "

The beast relaxed like a spring released. He fawned at his mistress'sfeet. I saw his red tongue licking her bare little ankles. 

"Ask the gentleman's pardon, " she said. 

The leopard looked at me spitefully. The yellow skin of his muzzlepuckered about his black moustache. 

"Fftt, " he grumbled like a great cat. 

"Go, " Antinea ordered imperiously. 

The beast crawled reluctantly toward me. He laid his head humblybetween his paws and waited. 

I stroked his beautiful spotted forehead. 

"You must not be vexed, " said Antinea. "He is always that way withstrangers. "

"Then he must often be in bad humor, " I said simply. 

Those were my first words. They brought a smile to Antinea's lips. 

She gave me a long, quiet look. 

"Aguida, " she said to one of the Targa women, "you will givetwenty-five pounds in gold to Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh. "

"You are a lieutenant?" she asked, after a pause. 

"Yes. "

"Where do you come from?"

"From France. "

"I might have guessed that, " she said ironically, "but from what partof France?"

"From what we call the Lot-et-Garonne. "

"From what town?"

"From Duras. "

She reflected a moment. 

"Duras! There is a little river there, the Dropt, and a fine oldchâteau. "

"You know Duras?" I murmured, amazed. 

"You go there from Bordeaux by a little branch railway, " she wenton. "It is a shut-in road, with vine-covered hills crowned bythe feudal ruins. The villages have beautiful names: Monségur, Sauve-terre-de-Guyenne, la Tresne, Créon, . .. Créon, as in Antigone. "

"You have been there?"

She looked at me. 

"Don't speak so coldly, " she said. "Sooner or later we will beintimate, and you may as well lay aside formality now. "

This threatening promise suddenly filled me with great happiness. Ithought of Le Mesge's words: "Don't talk until you have seen her. Whenyou have seen her, you will renounce everything for her. "

"Have I been in Duras?" she went on with a burst of laughter. "You arejoking. Imagine Neptune's granddaughter in the first-class compartmentof a local train!"

She pointed to an enormous white rock which towered above the palmtrees of the garden. 

"That is my horizon, " she said gravely. 

She picked up one of several books which lay scattered about her onthe lion's skin. 

"The time table of the _Chemin de Fer de l'Ouest_, " she said. "Admirable reading for one who never budges! Here it is half-past fivein the afternoon. A train, a local, arrived three minutes ago atSurgères in the Charente-Inférieure. It will start on in six minutes. In two hours it will reach La Rochelle. How strange it seems to thinkof such things here. So far away! So much commotion there! Here, nothing changes. "

"You speak French well, " I said. 

She gave a little nervous laugh. 

"I have to. And German, too, and Italian, and English and Spanish. Myway of living has made me a great polygot. But I prefer French, evento Tuareg and Arabian. It seems as if I had always known it. And I amnot saying that to please you. "

There was a pause. I thought of her grandmother, of whom Plutarchsaid: "There were few races with which she needed an interpreter. Cleopatra spoke their own language to the Ethiopians, to theTroglodytes, the Hebrews, the Arabs, the Medes and the Persians. "

"Do not stand rooted in the middle of the room. You worry me. Comesit here, beside me. Move over, King Hiram. "

The leopard obeyed with good temper. 

Beside her was an onyx bowl. She took from it a perfectly plain ringof orichalch and slipped it on my left ring-finger. I saw that shewore one like it. 

"Tanit-Zerga, give Monsieur de Saint-Avit a rose sherbet. "

The dark girl in red silk obeyed. 

"My private secretary, " said Antinea, introducing her. "MademoiselleTanit-Zerga, of Gâo, on the Niger. Her family is almost as ancient asmine. "

As she spoke, she looked at me. Her green eyes seemed to be appraisingme. 

"And your comrade, the Captain?" she asked in a dreamy tone. "I havenot yet seen him. What is he like? Does he resemble you?"

For the first time since I had entered, I thought of Morhange. I didnot answer. 

Antinea smiled. 

She stretched herself out full length on the lion skin. Her bare rightknee slipped out from under her tunic. 

"It is time to go find him, " she said languidly. "You will soonreceive my orders. Tanit-Zerga, show him the way. First take him tohis room. He cannot have seen it. "

I rose and lifted her hand to my lips. She struck me with it sosharply as to make my lips bleed, as if to brand me as her possession. 

 * * * * *

I was in the dark corridor again. The young girl in the red silk tunicwalked ahead of me. 

"Here is your room, " she said. "If you wish, I will take you to thedining-room. The others are about to meet there for dinner. "

She spoke an adorable lisping French. 

"No, Tanit-Zerga, I would rather stay here this evening. I am nothungry. I am tired. "

"You remember my name?" she said. 

She seemed proud of it. I felt that in her I had an ally in case ofneed. 

"I remember your name, Tanit-Zerga, because it is beautiful. "[12]

[Footnote 12: In Berber, Tanit means a spring; zerga is the feminine ofthe adjective azreg, blue. (Note by M. Leroux. )]

Then I added:

"Now, leave me, little one. I want to be alone. "

It seemed as if she would never go. I was touched, but at the sametime vexed. I felt a great need of withdrawing into myself. 

"My room is above yours, " she said. "There is a copper gong on thetable here. You have only to strike if you want anything. A whiteTarga will answer. "

For a second, these instructions amused me. I was in a hotel in themidst of the Sahara. I had only to ring for service. 

I looked about my room. My room! For how long?

It was fairly large. Cushions, a couch, an alcove cut into the rock, all lighted by a great window covered by a matting shade. 

I went to the window and raised the shade. The light of the settingsun entered. 

I leaned my elbows on the rocky sill. Inexpressible emotion filled myheart. The window faced south. It was about two hundred feet above theground. The black, polished volcanic wall yawned dizzily below me. 

In front of me, perhaps a mile and a half away, was another wall, thefirst enclosure mentioned in the Critias. And beyond it in thedistance, I saw the limitless red desert. 

XII

MORHANGE DISAPPEARS

My fatigue was so great that I lay as if unconscious until the nextday. I awoke about three o'clock in the afternoon. 

I thought at once of the events of the previous day; they seemedamazing. 

"Let me see, " I said to myself. "Let us work this out. I must begin byconsulting Morhange. "

I was ravenously hungry. 

The gong which Tanit-Zerga had pointed out lay within arm's reach. Istruck it. A white Targa appeared. 

"Show me the way to the library, " I ordered. 

He obeyed. As we wound our way through the labyrinth of stairs andcorridors I realized that I could never have found my way without hishelp. 

Morhange was in the library, intently reading a manuscript. 

"A lost treatise of Saint Optat, " he said. "Oh, if only Dom Grangerwere here. See, it is written in semi-uncial characters. "

I did not reply. My eyes were fixed on an object which lay on thetable beside the manuscript. It was an orichalch ring, exactly likethat which Antinea had given me the previous day and the one which sheherself wore. 

Morhange smiled. 

"Well?" I said. 

"Well?"

"You have seen her?"

"I have indeed, " Morhange replied. 

"She is beautiful, is she not?"

"It would be difficult to dispute that, " my comrade answered. "I evenbelieve that I can say that she is as intelligent as she isbeautiful. "

There was a pause. Morhange was calmly fingering the orichalch ring. 

"You know what our fate is to be?"

"I know. Le Mesge explained it to us yesterday in polite mythologicalterms. This evidently is an extraordinary adventure. "

He was silent, then said, looking at me:

"I am very sorry to have dragged you here. The only mitigating featureis that since last evening you seem to have been bearing your lot veryeasily. "

Where had Morhange learned this insight into the human heart? I didnot reply, thus giving him the best of proofs that he had judgedcorrectly. 

"What do you think of doing?" I finally murmured. 

He rolled up the manuscript, leaned back comfortably in his armchairand lit a cigar. 

"I have thought it over carefully. With the aid of my conscience Ihave marked out a line of conduct. The matter is clear and admits nodiscussion. 

"The question is not quite the same for me as for you, because of mysemi-religious character, which, I admit, has set out on a ratherdoubtful adventure. To be sure, I have not taken holy orders, but, even aside from the fact that the ninth commandment itself forbids myhaving relations with a woman not my wife, I admit that I have notaste for the kind of forced servitude for which the excellentCeghéir-ben-Cheikh has so kindly recruited us. 

"That granted, the fact remains that my life is not my own with theright to dispose of it as might a private explorer travelling at hisown expenses and for his own ends. I have a mission to accomplish, results to obtain. If I could regain my liberty by paying the singularransom which this country exacts, I should consent to givesatisfaction to Antinea according to my ability. I know the toleranceof the Church, and especially that of the order to which I aspire:such a procedure would be ratified immediately and, who knows, perhapseven approved? Saint Mary the Egyptian, gave her body to boatmen undersimilar circumstances. She received only glorification for it. In sodoing she had the certainty of attaining her goal, which was holy. Theend justified the means. 

"But my case is quite different. If I give in to the absurd capricesof this woman, that will not keep me from being catalogued down in thered marble hall, as Number 54, or as Number 55, if she prefers to takeyou first. Under those conditions. .. . "

"Under those conditions?"

"Under those conditions, it would be unpardonable for me toacquiesce. "

"Then what do you intend to do?"

"What do I intend to do?" Morhange leaned back in the armchair andsmilingly launched a puff of smoke toward the ceiling. 

"Nothing, " he said. "And that is all that is necessary. Man has thissuperiority over woman. He is so constructed that he can refuseadvances. "

Then he added with an ironical smile:

"A man cannot be forced to accept unless he wishes to. "

I nodded. 

"I tried the most subtle reasoning on Antinea, " he continued. "It wasbreath wasted. 'But, ' I said at the end of my arguments, 'why not LeMesge?' She began to laugh. 'Why not the Reverend Spardek?' shereplied. 'Le Mesge and Spardek are savants whom I respect. But

 _Maudit soit à jamais rêveur inutile, Qui voulut, le premier, dans sa stupidité, S'éprenant d'un problème insoluble et stérile, Aux choses de l'amour mêler l'honnêteté. _

"'Besides, ' she added with that really very charming smile of hers, 'probably you have not looked carefully at either of them. ' Therefollowed several compliments on my figure, to which I found nothing toreply, so completely had she disarmed me by those four lines fromBaudelaire. 

"She condescended to explain further: 'Le Mesge is a learned gentlemanwhom I find useful. He knows Spanish and Italian, keeps my papers inorder, and is busy working out my genealogy. The Reverend Spardekknows English and German. Count Bielowsky is thoroughly conversantwith the Slavic languages. Besides, I love him like a father. He knewme as a child when I had not dreamed such stupid things as you knowof me. They are indispensable to me in my relations with visitors ofdifferent races, although I am beginning to get along well enough inthe languages which I need. .. . But I am talking a great deal, and thisis the first time that I have ever explained my conduct. Your friendis not so curious. ' With that, she dismissed me. A strange womanindeed. I think there is a bit of Renan in her but she is clevererthan that master of sensualism. "

"Gentlemen, " said Le Mesge, suddenly entering the room, "why are youso late? They are waiting dinner for you. "

The little Professor was in a particularly good humor that evening. Hewore a new violet rosette. 

"Well?" he said, in a mocking tone, "you have seen her?"

Neither Morhange nor I replied. 

The Reverend Spardek and the Hetmari of Jitomir already had beguneating when we arrived. The setting sun threw raspberry lights on thecream-colored mat. 

"Be seated, gentlemen, " said Le Mesge noisily. "Lieutenant deSaint-Avit, you were not with us last evening. You are about to tastethe cooking of Koukou, our Bambara chef, for the first time. You mustgive me your opinion of it. "

A Negro waiter set before me a superb fish covered with a pimentosauce as red as tomatoes. 

I have explained that I was ravenously hungry. The dish was exquisite. The sauce immediately made me thirsty. 

"White Ahaggar, 1879, " the Herman of Jitomir breathed in my ear as hefilled my goblet with a clear topaz liquid. "I developed it myself:_rien pour la tête, tout pour les jambes_. "

I emptied the goblet at a gulp. The company began to seem charming. 

"Well, Captain Morhange, " Le Mesge called out to my comrade who hadtaken a mouthful of fish, "what do you say to this acanthopterygian?It was caught to-day in the lake in the oasis. Do you begin to admitthe hypothesis of the Saharan sea?"

"The fish is an argument, " my companion replied. 

Suddenly he became silent. The door had opened. A white Targa entered. The diners stopped talking. 

The veiled man walked slowly toward Morhange and touched his rightarm. 

"Very well, " said Morhange. 

He got up and followed the messenger. 

The pitcher of Ahaggar, 1879, stood between me and Count Bielowsky. Ifilled my goblet--a goblet which held a pint, and gulped it down. 

The Hetman looked at me sympathetically. 

"Ha, ha!" laughed Le Mesge, nudging me with his elbow. "Antinea hasrespect for the hierarchic order. "

The Reverend Spardek smiled modestly. 

"Ha, ha!" laughed Le Mesge again. 

My glass was empty. For a moment I was tempted to hurl it at the headof the Fellow in History. But what of it? I filled it and emptied itagain. 

"Morhange will miss this delicious roast of mutton, " said theProfessor, more and more hilarious, as he awarded himself a thickslice of meat. 

"He won't regret it, " said the Hetman crossly. "This is not roast; itis ram's horn. Really Koukou is beginning to make fun of us. "

"Blame it on the Reverend, " the shrill voice of Le Mesge cut in. "Ihave told him often enough to hunt other proselytes and leave our cookalone. "

"Professor, " Spardek began with dignity. 

"I maintain my contention, " cried Le Mesge, who seemed to me to begetting a bit overloaded. "I call the gentleman to witness, " he wenton, turning to me. "He has just come. He is unbiased. Therefore I askhim: has one the right to spoil a Bambara cook by addling his headwith theological discussions for which he has no predisposition?"

"Alas!" the pastor replied sadly. "You are mistaken. He has only toostrong a propensity to controversy. "

"Koukou is a good-for-nothing who uses Colas' cow as an excuse fordoing nothing and letting our scallops burn, " declared the Hetman. "Long live the Pope!" he cried, filling the glasses all around. 

"I assure you that this Bambara worries me, " Spardek went on withgreat dignity. "Do you know what he has come to? He deniestransubstantiation. He is within an inch of the heresy of Zwingli andOecolampades. Koukou denies transubstantiation. "

"Sir, " said Le Mesge, very much excited, "cooks should be left inpeace. Jesus, whom I consider as good a theologian as you, understoodthat, and it never occurred to him to call Martha away from her ovento talk nonsense to her. "

"Exactly so, " said the Hetman approvingly. 

He was holding a jar between his knees and trying to draw its cork. 

"Oh, Côtes Rôties, wines from the Côte-Rôtie!" he murmured to me as hefinally succeeded. "Touch glasses. "

"Koukou denies transubstantiation, " the pastor continued, sadlyemptying his glass. 

"Eh!" said the Hetman of Jitomir in my ear, "let them talk on. Don'tyou see that they are quite drunk?"

His own voice was thick. He had the greatest difficulty in the worldin filling my goblet to the brim. 

I wanted to push the pitcher away. Then an idea came to me:

"At this very moment, Morhange. .. . Whatever he may say. .. . She is sobeautiful. "

I reached out for the glass and emptied it once more. 

Le Mesge and the pastor were now engaged in the most extraordinaryreligious controversy, throwing at each other's heads the Book ofCommon Prayer, The Declaration of the Rights of Man, and theUnigenitus. Little by little, the Hetman began to show that ascendancyover them, which is the characteristic of a man of the world even whenhe is thoroughly drunk; the superiority of education over instruction. 

Count Bielowsky had drunk five times as much as the Professor or thepastor. But he carried his wine ten times better. 

"Let us leave these drunken fellows, " he said with disgust. "Come on, old man. Our partners are waiting in the gaming room. "

"Ladies and gentlemen, " said the Hetman as we entered. "Permit me topresent a new player to you, my friend, Lieutenant de Saint-Avit. "

"Let it go at that, " he murmured in my ear. "They are the servants. But I like to fool myself, you see. "

I saw that he was very drunk indeed. 

The gaming room was very long and narrow. A huge table, almost levelwith the floor and surrounded with cushions on which a dozen nativeswere lying, was the chief article of furniture. Two engravings on thewall gave evidence of the happiest broadmindedness in taste; one of daVinci's St. John the Baptist, and the _Maison des DernièresCartouches_ of Alphonse de Neuville. 

On the table were earthenware goblets. A heavy jar held palm liqueur. 

I recognized acquaintances among those present; my masseur, themanicure, the barber, and two or three Tuareg who had lowered theirveils and were gravely smoking long pipes. While waiting for somethingbetter, all were plunged in the delights of a card game that lookedlike "rams. " Two of Antinea's beautiful ladies in waiting, Aguida andSydya, were among the number. Their smooth bistre skins gleamedbeneath veils shot with silver. I was sorry not to see the red silktunic of Tanit-Zerga. Again, I thought of Morhange, but only for aninstant. 

"The chips, Koukou, " demanded the Hetman, "We are not here to amuseourselves. "

The Zwinglian cook placed a box of many-colored chips in front of him. Count Bielowsky set about counting them and arranging them in littlepiles with infinite care. 

"The white are worth a _louis_, " he explained to me. "The red, ahundred francs. The yellow, five hundred. The green, a thousand. Oh, it's the devil of a game that we play here. You will see. "

"I open with ten thousand, " said the Zwinglian cook. 

"Twelve thousand, " said the Hetman. 

"Thirteen, " said Sydya with a slow smile, as she seated herself on thecount's knee and began to arrange her chips lovingly in little piles. 

"Fourteen, " I said. 

"Fifteen, " said the sharp voice of Rosita, the old manicure. 

"Seventeen, " proclaimed the Hetman. 

"Twenty thousand, " the cook broke in. 

He hammered on the table and, casting a defiant look at us, repeated:

"I take it at twenty thousand. "

The Hetman made an impatient gesture. 

"That devil, Koukou! You can't do anything against the beast. You willhave to play carefully, Lieutenant. "

Koukou had taken his place at the end of the table. He threw down thecards with an air which abashed me. 

"I told you so; the way it was at Anna Deslions', " the Hetman murmuredproudly. 

"Make your bets, gentlemen, " yelped the Negro. "Make your bets. "

"Wait, you beast, " called Bielowsky. "Don't you see that the glassesare empty? Here, Cacambo. "

The goblets were filled immediately by the jolly masseur. 

"Cut, " said Koukou, addressing Sydya, the beautiful Targa who sat athis right. 

The girl cut, like one who knows superstitions, with her left hand. But it must be said that her right was busy lifting a cup to her lips. I watched the curve of her beautiful throat. 

"My deal, " said Koukou. 

We were thus arranged: at the left, the Hetman, Aguida, whose waist hehad encircled with the most aristocratic freedom, Cacambo, a Tuaregwoman, then two veiled Negroes who were watching the game intently. Atthe right, Sydya, myself, the old manicure, Rosita, Barouf, thebarber, another woman and two white Tuareg, grave and attentive, exactly opposite those on the left. 

"Give me one, " said the Hetman. 

Sydya made a negative gesture. 

Koukou drew, passed a four-spot to the Hetman, gave himself a five. 

"Eight, " announced Bielowsky. 

"Six, " said pretty Sydya. 

"Seven, " broke in Koukou. "One card makes up for another, " he addedcoldly. 

"I double, " said the Hetman. 

Cacambo and Aguida followed his example. On our side, we were morecareful. The manicure especially would not risk more than twentyfrancs at a time. 

"I demand that the cards be evened up, " said Koukou imperturbably. 

"This fellow is unbearable, " grumbled the count. "There, are yousatisfied?"

Koukou dealt and laid down a nine. 

"My country and my honor!" raged Bielowsky. "I had an eight. "

I had two kings, and so showed no ill temper. Rosita took the cardsout of my hands. 

I watched Sydya at my right. Her heavy black hair covered hershoulders. She was really very beautiful, though a bit tipsy, as wereall that fantastic company. She looked at me, too, but with loweredeyelids, like a timid little wild animal. 

"Oh, " I thought. "She may well be afraid. I am labelled 'Notrespassing. '"

I touched her foot. She drew it back in fright. 

"Who wants cards?" Koukou demanded. 

"Not I, " said the Hetman. 

"Served, " said Sydya. 

The cook drew a four. 

"Nine, " he said. 

"That card was meant for me, " cursed the count. "And five, I had afive. If only I had never promised his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon IInever to cut fives! There are times when it is hard, very hard. Andlook at that beast of a Negro who plays Charlemagne. "

It was true. Koukou swept in three-quarters of the chips, rose withdignity, and bowed to the company. 

"Till to-morrow, gentlemen. "

"Get along, the whole pack of you, " howled the Hetman of Jitomir. "Stay with me, Lieutenant de Saint-Avit. "

When we were alone, he poured out another huge cupfull of liqueur. Theceiling of the room was lost in the gray smoke. 

"What time is it?" I asked. 

"After midnight. But you are not going to leave me like this, my dearboy? I am heavy-hearted. "

He wept bitterly. The tail of his coat spread out on the divan behindhim like the apple-green wings of a beetle. 

"Isn't Aguida a beauty?" he went on, still weeping. "She makes methink of the Countess de Teruel, though she is a little darker. Youknow the Countess de Teruel, Mercedes, who went in bathing nude atBiarritz, in front of the rock of the Virgin, one day when PrinceBismarck was standing on the foot-bridge. You do not remember her?Mercedes de Teruel. "

I shrugged my shoulders. 

"I forget; you must have been too young. Two, perhaps three years old. A child. Yes, a child. Oh, my child, to have been of that generationand to be reduced to playing cards with savages . .. I must tellyou. .. . "

I stood up and pushed him off. 

"Stay, stay, " he implored. "I will tell you everything you want toknow, how I came here, things I have never told anyone. Stay, I mustunbosom myself to a true friend. I will tell you everything, I repeat. I trust you. You are a Frenchman, a gentleman. I know that you willrepeat nothing to her. "

"That I will repeat nothing to her?. .. To whom?"

His voice stuck in his throat. I thought I saw a shudder of fear passover him. 

"To her . .. To Antinea, " he murmured. 

I sat down again. 

XIII

THE HETMAN OF JITOMIR'S STORY

Count Casimir had reached that stage where drunkenness takes on a kindof gravity, of regretfulness. 

He thought a little, then began his story. I regret that I cannotreproduce more perfectly its archaic flavor. 

"When the grapes begin to color in Antinea's garden, I shall besixty-eight. It is very sad, my dear boy, to have sowed all your wildoats. It isn't true that life is always beginning over again. Howbitter, to have known the Tuileries in 1860, and to have reached thepoint where I am now!

"One evening, just before the war (I remember that Victor Black wasstill living), some charming women whose names I need not disclose (Iread the names of their sons from time to time in the society news ofthe _Gaulois_) expressed to me their desire to rub elbows with somereal _demi-mondaines_ of the artist quarter. I took them to a ball atthe _Grande Chaumière_. There was a crowd of young painters, models, students. In the midst of the uproar, several couples danced the_cancan_ till the chandeliers shook with it. We noticed especially alittle, dark man, dressed in a miserable top-coat and checked trouserswhich assuredly knew the support of no suspenders. He was cross-eyed, with a wretched beard and hair as greasy as could be. He bounded andkicked extravagantly. The ladies called him Léon Gambetta. 

"What an annoyance, when I realize that I need only have felled thiswretched lawyer with one pistol shot to have guaranteed perfecthappiness to myself and to my adopted country, for, my dear fellow, Iam French at heart, if not by birth. 

"I was born in 1829, at Warsaw, of a Polish father and a Russianmother. It is from her that I hold my title of Hetman of Jitomir. Itwas restored to me by Czar Alexander II on a request made to him onhis visit to Paris, by my august master, the Emperor Napoleon III. 

"For political reasons, which I cannot describe without retelling thehistory of unfortunate Poland, my father, Count Bielowsky, left Warsawin 1830, and went to live in London. After the death of my mother, hebegan to squander his immense fortune--from sorrow, he said. When, inhis time, he died at the period of the Prichard affair, he left mebarely a thousand pounds sterling of income, plus two or three systemsof gaming, the impracticability of which I learned later. 

"I will never be able to think of my nineteenth and twentieth yearswithout emotion, for I then completely liquidated this smallinheritance. London was indeed an adorable spot in those days. I had ajolly bachelor's apartment in Piccadilly. 

 "'Picadilly! Shops, palaces, bustle and breeze, The whirling of wheels and the murmur of trees. '

"Fox hunting in a _briska_, driving a buggy in Hyde Park, the rout, not to mention the delightful little parties with the light Venuses ofDrury Lane, this took all my time. All? I am unjust. There was alsogaming, and a sentiment of filial piety forced me to verify thesystems of the late Count, my father. It was gaming which was thecause of the event I must describe to you, by which my life was to beso strangely changed. 

"My friend, Lord Malmesbury, had said to me a hundred times, 'I musttake you to see an exquisite creature who lives in Oxford Street, number 277, Miss Howard. ' One evening I went with him. It was thetwenty-second of February, 1848. The mistress of the house was reallymarvelously beautiful, and the guests were charming. BesidesMalmesbury, I observed several acquaintances: Lord Clebden, LordChesterfield, Sir Francis Mountjoye, Major in the Second Life Guards, and Count d'Orsay. They played cards and then began to talk politics. Events in France played the main part in the conversation and theydiscussed endlessly the consequences of the revolt that had broken outin Paris that same morning, in consequence of the interdiction of thebanquet in the 12th arrondissement, of which word had just beenreceived by telegram. Up to that time, I had never bothered myselfwith public affairs. So I don't know what moved me to affirm with theimpetuosity of my nineteen years that the news from France meant theRepublic next day and the Empire the day after. .. . 

"The company received my sally with a discreet laugh, and their lookswere centered on a guest who made the fifth at a _bouillotte_ tablewhere they had just stopped playing. 

"The guest smiled, too. He rose and came towards me. I observed thathe was of middle height, perhaps even shorter, buttoned tightly into ablue frock coat, and that his eye had a far-off, dreamy look. 

"All the players watched this scene with delighted amusement. 

"'Whom have I the honor of addressing?' he asked in a very gentlevoice. 

"'Count Bielowsky, ' I answered coolly to show him that the differencein our ages was not sufficient to justify the interrogation. 

"Well, my dear Count, may your prediction indeed be realized; and Ihope that you will not neglect the Tuileries, ' said the guest in theblue coat, with a smile. 

"And he added, finally consenting to present himself:

"'Prince Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte. '

"I played no active rôle in the _coup d'état_, and I do not regret it. It is a principle with me that a stranger should not meddle with theinternal affairs of a country. The prince understood this discretion, and did not forget the young man who had been of such good omen tohim. 

"I was one of the first whom he called to the Elysée. My fortune wasdefinitely established by a defamatory note on 'Napoleon the little. 'The next year, when Mgr. Sibour was out of the way, I was madeGentleman of the Chamber, and the Emperor was even so kind as to haveme marry the daughter of the Marshal Repeto, Duke of Mondovi. 

"I have no scruple in announcing that this union was not what itshould have been. The Countess, who was ten years older than I, wascrabbed and not particularly pretty. Moreover, her family had insistedresolutely on a marriage portion. Now I had nothing at this timeexcept the twenty-five thousand pounds for my appointment as Gentlemanof the Chamber. A sad lot for anyone on intimate terms with the Countd'Orsay and the Duke of Gramont-Caderousse! Without the kindness ofthe Emperor, where would I have been?

"One morning in the spring of 1852, I was in my study opening my mail. There was a letter from His Majesty, calling me to the Tuileries atfour o'clock; a letter from Clémentine, informing me that she expectedme at five o'clock at her house. Clémentine was the beautiful one forwhom, just then, I was ready to commit any folly. I was so proud ofher that, one evening at the _Maison Dorée_, I flaunted her beforePrince Metternich, who was tremendously taken with her. All the courtenvied me that conquest; and I was morally obliged to continue toassume its expenses. And then Clémentine was so pretty! The Emperorhimself. .. . The other letters, good lord, the other letters were thebills of the dressmakers of that young person, who, in spite of mydiscreet remonstrances, insisted on having them sent to my conjugaldwelling. 

"There were bills for something over forty thousand francs: gowns andball dresses from Gagelin-Opigez, 23 Rue de Richelieu; hats andbonnets from Madame Alexandrine, 14 Rue d'Antin; lingerie and manypetticoats from Madame Pauline, 100 Rue de Clery; dress trimmings andgloves from the _Ville de Lyon_, 6 Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin;foulards from the _Malle des Indes_; handkerchiefs from the _CompagnieIrlandaise_; laces from Ferguson; cosmetics from _Candès_. .. . Thiswhitening cream of _Candès_, in particular, overwhelmed me withstupefaction. The bill showed fifty-one flasks. Six hundred andtwenty-seven francs and fifty centimes' worth of whitening cream from_Candès_. .. . Enough to soften the skin of a squadron of a hundredguards!

"'This can't keep on, ' I said, putting the bills in my pocket. 

"At ten minutes to four, I crossed the wicket by the Carrousel. 

"In the Salon of the _aides de camp_ I happened on Bacciochi. 

"'The Emperor has the grippe, ' he said to me. 'He is keeping to hisroom. He has given orders to have you admitted as soon as you arrive. Come. '

"His Majesty, dressed in a braided vest and Cossack trousers, wasmeditating before a window. The pale green of the Tuileries showedluminously under a gentle warm shower. 

"'Ah! Here he is, ' said Napoleon. 'Here, have a cigarette. It seemsthat you had great doings, you and Gramont-Caderousse, last evening, at the _Château de Fleurs_. '

"I smiled with satisfaction. 

"'So Your Majesty knows already. .. . '

"'I know, I know vaguely. '

"'Do you know Gramont-Caderousse's last "mot"?'

"'No, but you are going to tell it to me. '

"'Here goes, then. We were five or six: myself, Viel-Castel, Gramont, Persigny. .. . '

"'Persigny!' said the Emperor. 'He has no right to associate withGramont, after all that Paris says about his wife. '

"'Just so Sire. Well, Persigny was excited, no doubt about it. Hebegan telling us how troubled he was because of the Duchess'sconduct. '

"'This Fialin isn't over tactful, ' muttered the Emperor. 

"'Just so, Sire. Then, does Your Majesty know what Gramont hurled athim?'

"'What?'

"'He said to him, "_Monsieur le Duc_, I forbid you to speak ill of mymistress before me. "

"'Gramont goes too far, ' said Napoleon with a dreamy smile. 

"'That is what we all thought, including Viel-Castel, who wasnevertheless delighted. '

"'Apropos of this, ' said Napoleon after a silence, 'I have forgottento ask you for news of the Countess Bielowsky. '

"'She is very well, Sire, I thank Your Majesty, '

"'And Clémentine? Still the same dear child?'

"'Always, Sire. But. .. . '

"'It seems that M. Baroche is madly in love with her. '

"'I am very much honored, Sire. But this honor becomes tooburdensome. '

"I had drawn from my pocket that morning's bills and I spread them outunder the eyes of the Emperor. 

"He looked at them with his distant smile. 

"'Come, come. If that is all, I can fix that, since I have a favor toask of you. '

"'I am entirely at Your Majesty's service. '

"He struck a gong. 

"'Send for M. Mocquard. '

"'I have the grippe, ' he said. 'Mocquard will explain the affair toyou. '

"The Emperor's private secretary entered. 

"'Here is Bielowsky, Mocquard, ' said Napoleon. 'You know what I wanthim to do. Explain it to him. '

"And he began to tap on the window-panes against which the rain wasbeating furiously. 

"'My dear Count, ' said Mocquard, taking a chair, 'it is very simple. You have doubtless heard of a young explorer of promise, M. HenryDuveyrier. '

"I shook my head as a sign of negation, very much surprised at thisbeginning. 

"'M. Duveyrier, ' continued Mocquard, 'has returned to Paris after aparticularly daring trip to South Africa and the Sahara. M. Vivien deSaint Martin, whom I have seen recently has assured me that theGeographical Society intends to confer its great gold medal upon him, in recognition of these exploits. In the course of his trip, M. Duveyrier has entered into negotiations with the chief of the peoplewho always have been so rebellious to His Majesty's armies, theTuareg. '

"I looked at the Emperor. My bewilderment was such that he began tolaugh. 

"'Listen, ' he said. 

"'M. Duveyrier, ' continued Mocquard, 'was able to arrange to have adelegation of these chiefs come to Paris to present their respects toHis Majesty. Very important results may arise from this visit, and HisExcellency the Colonial Minister, does not despair of obtaining thesignature of a treaty of commerce, reserving special advantages to ourfellow countrymen. These chiefs, five of them, among them Sheik Otham, _Amenokol_ or Sultan of the Confederation of Adzjer, arrive to-morrowmorning at the _Gare de Lyon_. M. Duveyrier will meet them. But theEmperor has thought that besides. .. . '

"'I thought, ' said Napoleon III, delighted by my bewilderment, 'Ithought that it was correct to have some one of the Gentlemen of myChamber wait upon the arrival of these Mussulman dignitaries. That iswhy you are here, my poor Bielowsky. Don't be frightened, ' he added, laughing harder. 'You will have M. Duveyrier with you. You are chargedonly with the special part of the reception: to accompany theseprinces to the lunch that I am giving them to-morrow at the Tuileries;then, in the evening, discreetly on account of their religiousscruples, to succeed in giving them a very high idea of Parisiancivilization, with nothing exaggerated: do not forget that in theSahara they are very high religious dignitaries. In that respect, Ihave confidence in your tact and give you _carte blanche_. .. . Mocquard!'

"'Sire?'

"'You will apportion on the budget, half to Foreign Affairs, half tothe Colonies, the funds Count Bielowsky will need for the reception ofthe Tuareg delegation. It seems to me that a hundred thousand francs, to begin. .. . The Count has only to tell you if he is forced to exceedthat figure. '

"Clémentine lived on the Rue Boccador, in a little Moorish pavilionthat I had bought for her from M. De Lesseps. I found her in bed. Whenshe saw me, she burst into tears. 

"'Great fools that we are!' she murmured amidst her sobs, 'what havewe done!'

"'Clémentine, tell me!'

"'What have we done, what have we done!' she repeated, and I feltagainst me, her floods of black hair, her warm cheek which wasfragrant with _eau de Nanon_. 

"'What is it? What can it be?'

"'It is. .. . ' and she murmured something in my ear. 

"'No!' I said, stupefied. 'Are you quite sure?'

"'Am I quite sure!'

"I was thunderstruck. 

"'You don't seem much pleased, ' she said sharply. 

"'I did not say that. .. . Though, really, I am very much pleased, Iassure you. '

"'Prove it to me: let us spend the day together tomorrow. '

"'To-morrow!' I stammered. 'Impossible!'

"'Why?' she demanded suspiciously. 

"'Because to-morrow, I have to pilot the Tuareg mission about Paris. The Emperor's orders. '

"'What bluff is this?' asked Clémentine. 

"'I admit that nothing so much resembles a lie as the truth. '

"I retold Mocquard's story to Clémentine, as well as I could. Shelistened to me with an expression that said: 'you can't fool me thatway. '

"Finally, furious, I burst out:

"'You can see for yourself. I am dining with them, tomorrow; and Iinvite you. '

"'I shall be very pleased to come, ' said Clémentine with greatdignity. 

"I admit that I lacked self-control at that minute. But think what aday it had been! Forty thousand francs of bills as soon as I woke up. The ordeal of escorting the savages around Paris all the next day. And, quite unexpectedly, the announcement of an approaching irregularpaternity. .. . 

"'After all, ' I thought, as I returned to my house, 'these are theEmperor's orders. He has commanded me to give the Tuareg an idea ofParisian civilization. Clémentine comports herself very well insociety and just now it would not do to aggravate her. I will engage aroom for to-morrow at the _Café de Paris_, and tell Gramont-Caderousseand Viel-Castel to bring their silly mistresses. It will be veryFrench to enjoy the attitude of these children of the desert in themidst of this little party. '

"The train from Marseilles arrived at 10:20. On the platform I foundM. Duveyrier, a young man of twenty-three with blue eyes and a littleblond beard. The Tuareg fell into his arms as they descended from thetrain. He had lived with them for two years, in their tents, the devilknows where. He presented me to their chief, Sheik Otham, and to fourothers, splendid fellows in their blue cotton draperies and theiramulets of red leather. Fortunately, they all spoke a kind of_sabir_[13] which helped things along. 

[Footnote 13: Dialect spoken in Algeria and the Levant--a mixture ofArabian, French, Italian and Spanish. ]

"I only mention in passing the lunch at the Tuileries, the visits inthe evening to the Museum, to the _Hotel de Ville_, to the ImperialPrinting Press. Each time, the Tuareg inscribed their names in theregistry of the place they were visiting. It was interminable. To giveyou an idea, here is the complete name of Sheik Otham alone:Otham-ben-el-Hadj-el-Bekri-ben-el-Hadj-el-Faqqi-ben-Mohammad-Bouya-ben-si-Ahmed-es-Souki-ben-Mahmoud. [14]

[Footnote 14: I have succeeded in finding on the registry of theImperial Printing Press the names of the Tuareg chiefs and those whoaccompanied them on their visit, M. Henry Duveyrier and the CountBielowsky. (Note by M. Leroux. )]

"And there were five of them like that!

"I maintained my good humor, however, because on the boulevards, everywhere, our success was colossal. At the _Café de Paris_, atsix-thirty, it amounted to frenzy. The delegation, a little drunk, embraced me: '_Bono, Napoléon, bono, Eugénie; bono, Casimir; bono, Christians_. ' Gramont-Caderousse and Viel-Castel were already in boothnumber eight, with Anna Grimaldi, of the _Folies Dramatiques_, andHortense Schneider, both beautiful enough to strike terror to theheart. But the palm was for my dear Clémentine, when she entered. Imust tell you how she was dressed: a gown of white tulle, over Chinablue tarletan, with pleatings, and ruffles of tulle over thepleatings. The tulle skirt was caught up on each side by garlands ofgreen leaves mingled with rose clusters. Thus it formed a valencewhich allowed the tarletan skirt to show in front and on the sides. The garlands were caught up to the belt and, in the space betweentheir branches, were knots of rose satin with long ends. The pointedbodice was draped with tulle, the billowy bertha of tulle was edgedwith lace. By way of head-dress, she had placed upon her black locks adiadem crown of the same flowers. Two long leafy tendrils were twinedin her hair and fell on her neck. As cloak, she had a kind of scarf ofblue cashmere embroidered in gold and lined with blue satin. 

"So much beauty and splendor immediately moved the Tuareg and, especially, Clémentine's right-hand neighbor, El-Hadj-ben-Guemâma, brother of Sheik Otham and Sultan of Ahaggar. By the time the souparrived, a bouillon of wild game, seasoned with Tokay, he was alreadymuch smitten. When they served the compote of fruits Martinique _à laliqueur de Mme. Amphoux_, he showed every indication of illimitablepassion. The Cyprian wine _de la Commanderie_ made him quite sure ofhis sentiments. Hortense kicked my foot under the table. Gramont, intending to do the same to Anna, made a mistake and aroused theindignant protests of one of the Tuareg. I can safely say that whenthe time came to go to Mabille, we were enlightened as to the mannerin which our visitors respected the prohibition decreed by the Prophetin respect to wine. 

"At Mabille, while Clémentine, Hortense, Anna, Ludovic and the threeTuareg gave themselves over to the wildest gallops, Sheik Otham tookme aside and confided to me, with visible emotion, a certaincommission with which he had just been charged by his brother, SheikAhmed. 

"The next day, very early, I reached Clémentine's house. 

"'My dear, ' I began, after having waked her, not without difficulty, 'listen to me. I want to talk to you seriously. '

"She rubbed her eyes a bit crossly. 

"'How did you like that young Arabian gentleman who was so taken withyou last night?'

"'Why, well enough, ' she said, blushing. 

"'Do you know that in his country, he is the sovereign prince andreigns over territories five or six times greater than those of ouraugust master, the Emperor Napoleon III?'

"'He murmured something of that kind to me, ' she said, becominginterested. 

"'Well, would it please you to mount on a throne, like our augustsovereign, the Empress Eugénie?'

"Clémentine, looked startled. 

"'His own brother, Sheik Otham, has charged me in his name to makethis offer. '

"Clémentine, dumb with amazement, did not reply. 

"'I, Empress!' she finally stammered. 

"'The decision rests with you. They must have your answer beforemidday. If it is 'yes, ' we lunch together at Voisin's, and the bargainis made. '

"I saw that she had already made up her mind, but she thought it wellto display a little sentiment. 

"'And you, you!' she groaned. 'To leave you thus. .. . Never!'

"'No foolishness, dear child, ' I said gently. 'You don't know perhapsthat I am ruined. Yes, completely: I don't even know how I am going topay for your complexion cream!'

"'Ah!' she sighed. 

"She added, however, 'And . .. The child?'

"'What child?'

"'Our child . .. Our child. '

"'Ah! That is so. Why, you will have to put it down to profit andloss. I am even convinced that Sheik Ahmed will find that it resembleshim. '

"'You can turn everything into a joke, ' she said between laughing andcrying. 

"The next morning, at the same hour, the Marseilles express carriedaway the five Tuareg and Clémentine. The young woman, radiant, wasleaning on the arm of Sheik Ahmed, who was beside himself with joy. 

"'Have you many shops in your capital?' she asked him languidly. 

"And he, smiling broadly under his veil, replied:

"'_Besef, besef, bono, roumis, bono_. '

"At the last moment, Clémentine had a pang of emotion. 

"'Listen, Casimir, you have always been kind to me. I am going to be aqueen. If you weary of it here, promise me, swear to me. .. . '

"The Sheik had understood. He took a ring from his finger and slippedit onto mine. 

"'Sidi Casimir, comrade, ' he affirmed. 'You come--find us. Take SidiAhmed's ring and show it. Everybody at Ahaggar comrades. _Bono_Ahaggar, _bono_. '

"When I came out of the _Gare de Lyon_, I had the feeling of havingperpetrated an excellent joke. "

The Hetman of Jitomir was completely drunk. I had had the utmostdifficulty in understanding the end of his story, because heinterjected, every other moment, couplets from Jacques Offenbach'sbest score. 

 _Dans un bois passait un jeune homme, Un jeune homme frais et beau, Sa main tenait une pomme, Vous voyez d'ici le tableau_. 

"Who was disagreeably surprised by the fall of Sedan? It was Casimir, poor old Casimir! Five thousand _louis_ to pay by the fifth ofSeptember, and not the first sou, no, not the first sou. I take my hatand my courage and go to the Tuileries. No more Emperor there, no! Butthe Empress was so kind. I found her alone--ah, people scatter quicklyunder such circumstances!--alone, with a senator, M. Mérimée, the onlyliterary man I have ever known who was at the same time a man of theworld. 'Madame, ' he was saying to her, 'you must give up all hope. M. Thiers, whom I just met on the _Pont Royal_, would listen to nothing. '

"'Madame, ' I said in my turn, 'Your Majesty always will know where hertrue friends are. '

"And I kissed her hand. 

 "_Evohé, que les déesses Out de drôles de façons Pour enjôler, pour enjôler, pour enjôler les gaâarçons_!

"I returned to my home in the Rue de Lille. On the way I encounteredthe rabble going from the _Corps Législatif_ to the Hotel de Ville. Mymind was made up. 

"'Madame, ' I said to my wife, 'my pistols. '

"'What is the matter?' she asked, frightened. 

"'All is lost. But there is still a chance to preserve my honor. I amgoing to be killed on the barricades. '

"'Ah! Casimir, ' she sobbed, falling into my arms. 'I have misjudgedyou. Will you forgive me?'

"'I forgive you, Aurelie, ' I said with dignified emotion. 'I have notalways been right myself. '

"I tore myself away from this mad scene. It was six o'clock. On theRue de Bac, I hailed a cab on its mad career. 

"'Twenty francs tip, ' I said to the coachman, 'if you get to the _Garede Lyon_ in time for the Marseilles train, six thirty-seven. '"

The Hetman of Jitomir could say no more. He had rolled over on thecushions and slept with clenched fists. 

I walked unsteadily to the great window. 

The sun was rising, pale yellow, behind the sharp blue mountains. 

XIV

HOURS OF WAITING

It was at night that Saint-Avit liked to tell me a little of hisenthralling history. He gave it to me in short installments, exact andchronological, never anticipating the episodes of a drama whose tragicoutcome I knew already. Not that he wished to obtain more effect thatway--I felt that he was far removed from any calculation of that sort!Simply from the extraordinary nervousness into which he was thrown byrecalling such memories. 

One evening, the mail from France had just arrived. The letters thatChatelain had handed us lay upon the little table, not yet opened. Bythe light of the lamp, a pale halo in the midst of the great blackdesert, we were able to recognize the writing of the addresses. Oh!the victorious smile of Saint-Avit when, pushing aside all thoseletters, I said to him in a trembling voice:

"Go on. "

He acquiesced without further words. 

"Nothing can give you any idea of the fever I was in from the day whenthe Hetman of Jitomir told me of his adventures to the day when Ifound myself in the presence of Antinea. The strangest part was thatthe thought that I was, in a way, condemned to death, did not enterinto this fever. On the contrary, it was stimulated by my desire forthe event which would be the signal of my downfall, the summons fromAntinea. But this summons was not speedy in coming. And from thisdelay, arose my unhealthy exasperation. 

"Did I have any lucid moments in the course of these hours? I do notthink so. I do not recall having even said to myself, 'What, aren'tyou ashamed? Captive in an unheard of situation, you not only are nottrying to escape, but you even bless your servitude and look forwardto your ruin. ' I did not even color my desire to remain there, toenjoy the next step in the adventure, by the pretext I might havegiven--unwillingness to escape without Morhange. If I felt a vagueuneasiness at not seeing him again, it was not because of a desire toknow that he was well and safe. 

"Well and safe, I knew him to be, moreover. The Tuareg slaves ofAntinea's household were certainly not very communicative. The womenwere hardly more loquacious. I heard, it is true, from Sydya andAguida, that my companion liked pomegranates or that he could notendure _kouskous_ of bananas. But if I asked for a different kind ofinformation, they fled, in fright, down the long corridors. WithTanit-Zerga, it was different. This child seemed to have a distastefor mentioning before me anything bearing in any way upon Antinea. Nevertheless, I knew that she was devoted to her mistress with adoglike fidelity. But she maintained an obstinate silence if Ipronounced her name or, persisting, the name of Morhange. 

"As for the Europeans, I did not care to question these sinisterpuppets. Besides, all three were difficult of approach. The Hetman ofJitomir was sinking deeper and deeper into alcohol. What intelligenceremained to him, he seemed to have dissolved the evening when he hadinvoked his youth for me. I met him from time to time in the corridorsthat had become all at once too narrow for him, humming in a thickvoice a couplet from the music of _La Reine Hortense_. 

_De ma fille IsabelleSois l'époux à l'instant, Car elle est la plus belleEt toi, le plus vaillant_. 

"As for Pastor Spardek, I would cheerfully have killed the oldskinflint. And the hideous little man with the decorations, the placidprinter of labels for the red marble hall, --how could I meet himwithout wanting to cry out in his face: 'Eh! eh! Sir Professor, a verycurious case of apocope: [Greek: Atlantinea]. Suppression of _alpha_, of _tau_ and of _lambda_! I would like to direct your attention toanother case as curious: [Greek: klêmêntinea], Clémentine. Apocope of_kappa_, of _lamba_, of _epsilon_ and of _mu_. If Morhange were withus, he would tell you many charming erudite things about it. But, alas! Morhange does not deign to come among us any more. We never seeMorhange. '

"My fever for information found a little more favorable reception fromRosita, the old Negress manicure. Never have I had my nails polishedso often as during those days of waiting! Now--after six years--shemust be dead. I shall not wrong her memory by recording that she wasvery partial to the bottle. The poor old soul was defenseless againstthose that I brought her and that I emptied with her, throughpoliteness. 

"Unlike the other slaves, who are brought from the South toward Turkeyby the merchants of Rhât, she was born in Constantinople and had beenbrought into Africa by her master when he became _kaïmakam_ ofRhadamès. .. . But don't let me complicate this already wanderinghistory by the incantations of this manicure. 

"'Antinea, ' she said to me, 'is the daughter ofEl-Hadj-Ahmed-ben-Guemâma, Sultan of Ahaggar, and Sheik of the greatand noble tribe of Kel-Rhelâ. She was born in the year twelve hundredand eighty-one of the Hegira. She has never wished to marry any one. Her wish has been respected for the will of women is sovereign in thisAhaggar where she rules to-day. She is a cousin of Sidi-el-Senoussi, and, if she speaks the word, Christian blood will flow from Djerid toTouat, and from Tchad to Senegal. If she had wished it, she might havelived beautiful and respected in the land of the Christians. But sheprefers to have them come to her. '

"'Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, ' I said, 'do you know him? He is entirelydevoted to her?'

"'Nobody here knows Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh very well, because he iscontinually traveling. It is true that he is entirely devoted toAntinea. Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh is a Senoussi, and Antinea is the cousinof the chief of the Senoussi. Besides, he owes his life to her. He isone of the men who assassinated the great Kébir Flatters. On accountof that, Ikenoukhen, _amenokol_ of the Adzjer Tuareg, fearing Frenchreprisals, wanted to deliver Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh to them. When thewhole Sahara turned against him, he found asylum with Antinea. Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh will never forget it, for he is brave and observesthe law of the Prophet. To thank her, he led to Antinea, who was thentwenty years old, three French officers of the first troops ofoccupation in Tunis. They are the ones who are numbered, in the redmarble hall, 1, 2, and 3. '

"'And Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh has always fulfilled his dutiessuccessfully?'

"'Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh is well trained, and he knows the vast Sahara asI know my little room at the top of the mountain. At first, he mademistakes. That is how, on his first trips, he brought back old LeMesge and marabout Spardek. '

"'What did Antinea say when she saw them?'

"'Antinea? She laughed so hard that she spared them. Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh was vexed to see her laugh so. Since then, he hasnever made a mistake. '

"'He has never made a mistake?'

"'No. I have cared for the hands and feet of all that he has broughthere. All were young and handsome. But I think that your comrade, whomthey brought to me the other day, after you were here, is thehandsomest of all. '

"'Why, ' I asked, turning the conversation, 'why, since she spared themtheir lives, did she not free the pastor and M. Le Mesge?'

"'She has found them useful, it seems, ' said the old woman. 'And then, whoever once enters here, can never leave. Otherwise, the French wouldsoon be here and, when they saw the hall of red marble, they wouldmassacre everybody. Besides, of all those whom Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh hasbrought here, no one, save one, has wished to escape after seeingAntinea. '

"'She keeps them a long time?'

"'That depends upon them and the pleasure that she takes in them. Twomonths, three months, on the average. It depends. A big Belgianofficer, formed like a colossus, didn't last a week. On the otherhand, everyone here remembers little Douglas Kaine, an Englishofficer: she kept him almost a year. '

"'And then?'

"'And then, he died, ' said the old woman as if astonished at myquestion. 

"'Of what did he die?'

"She used the same phrase as M. Le Mesge:

"'Like all the others: of love. 

"'Of love, ' she continued. "They all die of love when they see thattheir time is ended, and that Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh has gone to findothers. Several have died quietly with tears in their great eyes. Theyneither ate nor slept any more. A French naval officer went mad. Allnight, he sang a sad song of his native country, a song which echoedthrough the whole mountain. Another, a Spaniard, was as if maddened:he tried to bite. It was necessary to kill him. Many have died of_kif_, a _kif_ that is more violent than opium. When they no longerhave Antinea, they smoke, smoke. Most have died that way . .. Thehappiest. Little Kaine died differently. '

"'How did little Kaine die?'

"'In a way that pained us all very much. I told you that he stayedlonger among us than anyone else. We had become used to him. InAntinea's room, on a little Kairouan table, painted in blue and gold, there is a gong with a long silver hammer with an ebony handle, veryheavy. Aguida told me about it. When Antinea gave little Kaine hisdismissal, smiling as she always does, he stopped in front of her, mute, very pale. She struck the gong for someone to take him away. ATarga slave came. But little Kaine had leapt for the hammer, and theTarga lay on the ground with his skull smashed. Antinea smiled all thetime. They led little Kaine to his room. The same night, eludingguards, he jumped out of his window at a height of two hundred feet. The workmen in the embalming room told me that they had the greatestdifficulty with his body. But they succeeded very well. You have onlyto go see for yourself. He occupies niche number 26 in the red marblehall. '

"The old woman drowned her emotion in her glass. 

"'Two days before, ' she continued, 'I had done his nails, here, forthis was his room. On the wall, near the window, he had writtensomething in the stone with his knife. See, it is still here. '

"'Was it not Fate, that on this July midnight. .. . '

"At any other moment, that verse, traced in the stone of the windowthrough which the English officer had hurled himself, would havekilled me with overpowering emotion. But just then, another thoughtwas in my heart. 

"'Tell me, ' I said, controlling my voice as well as I could, 'whenAntinea holds one of us in her power, she shuts him up near her, doesshe not? Nobody sees him any more?'

The old woman shook her head. 

"'She is not afraid that he will escape. The mountain is well guarded. Antinea has only to strike her silver gong; he will be brought back toher immediately. '

"'But my companion. I have not see him since she sent for him. .. . '

"The Negress smiled comprehendingly. 

"'If you have not seen him, it is because he prefers to remain nearher. Antinea does not force him to. Neither does she prevent him. '

"I struck my fist violently upon the table. 

"'Get along with you, old fool. And be quick about it!'

"Rosita fled frightened, hardly taking time to collect her littleinstruments. 

"'Was it not Fate, that on this July midnight. .. . '

"I obeyed the Negress's suggestion. Following the corridors, losing myway, set on the right road again by the Reverend Spardek, I pushedopen the door of the red marble hall. I entered. 

"The freshness of the perfumed crypt did me good. No place can be sosinister that it is not, as it were, purified by the murmur of runningwater. The cascade, gurgling in the middle hall, comforted me. One daybefore an attack I was lying with my section in deep grass, waitingfor the moment, the blast of the bugle, which would demand that weleap forward into the hail of bullets. A stream was at my feet. Ilistened to its fresh rippling. I admired the play of light and shadein the transparent water, the little beasts, the little black fish, the green grass, the yellow wrinkled sand. .. . The mystery of wateralways has carried me out of myself. 

"Here, in this magic hall, my thoughts were held by the darkcascade. It felt friendly. It kept me from faltering in the midst ofthese rigid evidences of so many monstrous sacrifices. .. . Number 26. It was he all right. Lieutenant Douglas Kaine, born at Edinburgh, September 21, 1862. Died at Ahaggar, July 16, 1890. Twenty-eight. He wasn't even twenty-eight! His face was thin under the coat oforichalch. His mouth sad and passionate. It was certainly he. Pooryoungster. --Edinburgh, --I knew Edinburgh, without ever having beenthere. From the wall of the castle you can see the Pentland hills. "Look a little lower down, " said Stevenson's sweet Miss Flora to Anneof Saint-Yves, "look a little lower down and you will see, in the foldof the hill, a clump of trees and a curl of smoke that rises fromamong them. That is Swanston Cottage, where my brother and I live withmy aunt. If it really pleases you to see it, I shall be glad. " When heleft for Darfour, Douglas Kaine must surely have left in Edinburgh aMiss Flora, as blonde as Saint-Yves' Flora. But what are these slipsof girls beside Antinea! Kaine, however sensible a mortal, howevermade for this kind of love, had loved otherwise. He was dead. And herewas number 27, on account of whom Kaine dashed himself on the rocks ofthe Sahara, and who, in his turn, is dead also. 

"To die, to love. How naturally the word resounded in the red marblehall. How Antinea seemed to tower above that circle of pale statues!Does love, then, need so much death in order that it may bemultiplied? Other women, in other parts of the world, are doubtless asbeautiful as Antinea, more beautiful perhaps. I hold you to witnessthat I have not said much about her beauty. Why then, this obsession, this fever, this consumption of all my being? Why am I ready, for thesake of pressing this quivering form within my arms for one instant, to face things that I dare not think of for fear I should tremblebefore them?

"Here is number 53, the last. Morhange will be 54. I shall be 55. Insix months, eight, perhaps, --what difference anyway?--I shall behoisted into this niche, an image without eyes, a dead soul, afinished body. 

"I touched the heights of bliss, of exaltation that can be felt. Whata child I was, just now! I lost my temper with a Negro manicure. I wasjealous of Morhange, on my word! Why not, since I was at it, bejealous of those here present; then of the others, the absent, whowill come, one by one, to fill the black circle of the still emptyniches. .. . Morhange, I know, is at this moment with Antinea, and it isto me a bitter and splendid joy to think of his joy. But some evening, in three months, four perhaps, the embalmers will come here. Niche 54will receive its prey. Then a Targa slave will advance toward me. Ishall shiver with superb ecstasy. He will touch my arm. And it will bemy turn to penetrate into eternity by the bleeding door of love. 

"When I emerged from my meditation, I found myself back in thelibrary, where the falling night obscured the shadows of the peoplewho were assembled there. 

"I recognized M. Le Mesge, the Pastor, the Hetman, Aguida, two Tuaregslaves, still more, all joining in the most animated conference. 

"I drew nearer, astonished, even alarmed to see together so manypeople who ordinarily felt no kind of sympathy for each other. 

"An unheard of occurrence had thrown all the people of the mountaininto uproar. 

"Two Spanish explorers, come from Rio de Oro, had been seen to theWest, in Adhar Ahnet. 

"As soon as Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh was informed, he had prepared to go tomeet them. 

"At that instant he had received the order to do nothing. 

"Henceforth it was impossible to doubt. 

"For the first time, Antinea was in love. "

XV

THE LAMENT OF TANIT-ZERGA

"_Arraôu, arraôu_. "

I roused myself vaguely from the half sleep to which I had finallysuccumbed. I half opened my eyes. Immediately I flattened back. 

"_Arraôu_. "

Two feet from my face was the muzzle of King Hiram, yellow with atracery of black. The leopard was helping me to wake up; otherwise hetook little interest, for he yawned; his dark red jaws, beautifulgleaming white fangs, opened and closed lazily. 

At the same moment I heard a burst of laughter. 

It was little Tanit-Zerga. She was crouching on a cushion near thedivan where I was stretched out, curiously watching my close interviewwith the leopard. 

"King Hiram was bored, " she felt obliged to explain to me. "I broughthim. "

"How nice, " I growled. "Only tell me, could he not have gone somewhereelse to be amused?"

"He is all alone now, " said the girl. "_They_ have sent him away. Hemade too much noise when he played. "

These words recalled me to the events of the previous evening. 

"If you like, I will make him go away, " said Tanit-Zerga. 

"No, let him alone. "

I looked at the leopard with sympathy. Our common misfortune broughtus together. 

I even caressed his rounded forehead. King Hiram showed hiscontentment by stretching out at full length and uncurling his greatamber claws. The mat on the floor had much to suffer. 

"Galé is here, too, " said the little girl. 

"Galé! Who may he be?"

At the same time, I saw on Tanit-Zerga's knees a strange animal, about the size of a big cat, with flat ears, and a long muzzle. Itspale gray fur was rough. 

It was watching me with queer little pink eyes. 

"It is my mongoose, " explained Tanit-Zerga. 

"Come now, " I said sharply, "is that all?"

I must have looked so crabbed and ridiculous that Tanit-Zerga began tolaugh. I laughed, too. 

"Galé is my friend, " she said when she was serious again. "I saved herlife. It was when she was quite little. I will tell you about it someday. See how good-natured she is. "

So saying, she dropped the mongoose on my knees. 

"It is very nice of you, Tanit-Zerga, " I said, "to come and pay me avisit. " I passed my hand slowly over the animal's back. "What time isit now?"

"A little after nine. See, the sun is already high. Let me draw theshade. "

The room was in darkness. Galé's eyes grew redder. King Hiram's becamegreen. 

"It is very nice of you, " I repeated, pursuing my idea. "I see thatyou are free to-day. You never came so early before. "

A shade passed over the girl's forehead. 

"Yes, I am free, " she said, almost bitterly. 

I looked at Tanit-Zerga more closely. For the first time I realizedthat she was beautiful. Her hair, which she wore falling over hershoulders, was not so much curly as it was gently waving. Her featureswere of remarkable fineness: the nose very straight, a small mouthwith delicate lips, a strong chin. She was not black, but coppercolored. Her slender graceful body had nothing in common with thedisgusting thick sausages which the carefully cared for bodies of theblacks become. 

A large circle of copper made a heavy decoration around her foreheadand hair. She had four bracelets, still heavier, on her wrists andanklets, and, for clothing, a green silk tunic, slashed in points, braided with gold. Green, bronze, gold. 

"You are a Sonrhaï, Tanit-Zerga?" I asked gently. 

She replied with almost ferocious pride:

"I am a Sonrhaï. "

"Strange little thing, " I thought. 

Evidently this was a subject on which Tanit-Zerga did not intend theconversation to turn. I recalled how, almost painfully, she hadpronounced that "they, " when she had told me how they had driven awayKing Hiram. 

"I am a Sonrhaï, " she repeated. "I was born at Gâo, on the Niger, theancient Sonrhaï capital. My fathers reigned over the great MandingueEmpire. You need not scorn me because I am here as a slave. "

In a ray of sunlight, Galé, seated on his little haunches, washed hisshining mustaches with his forepaws; and King Hiram, stretched out onthe mat, groaned plaintively in his sleep. 

"He is dreaming, " said Tanit-Zerga, a finger on her lips. 

There was a moment of silence. Then she said:

"You must be hungry. And I do not think that you will want to eat withthe others. "

I did not answer. 

"You must eat, " she continued. "If you like, I will go get somethingto eat for you and me. I will bring King Hiram's and Galé's dinnerhere, too. When you are sad, you should not stay alone. "

And the little green and gold fairy vanished, without waiting for myanswer. 

That was how my friendship with Tanit-Zerga began. Each morning shecame to my room with the two beasts. She rarely spoke to me ofAntinea, and when she did, it was always indirectly. The question thatshe saw ceaselessly hovering on my lips seemed to be unbearable toher, and I felt her avoiding all the subjects towards which I, myself, dared not direct the conversation. 

To make sure of avoiding them, she prattled, prattled, prattled, likea nervous little parokeet. 

I was sick and this Sister of Charity in green and bronze silk tendedme with such care as never was before. The two wild beasts, the bigand the little, were there, each side of my couch, and, during mydelirium, I saw their mysterious, sad eyes fixed on me. 

In her melodious voice, Tanit-Zerga told me wonderful stories, andamong them, the one she thought most wonderful, the story of her life. 

It was not till much later, very suddenly, that I realized how farthis little barbarian had penetrated into my own life. Wherever thouart at this hour, dear little girl, from whatever peaceful shores thouwatchest my tragedy, cast a look at thy friend, pardon him for nothaving accorded thee, from the very first, the gratitude that thoudeservedest so richly. 

"I remember from my childhood, " she said, "the vision of a yellow androse-colored sun rising through the morning mists over the smoothwaves of a great river, 'the river where there is water, ' the Niger, it was. .. . But you are not listening to me. "

"I am listening to you, I swear it, little Tanit-Zerga. "

"You are sure I am not wearying you? You want me to go on?"

"Go on, little Tanit-Zerga, go on. "

"Well, with my little companions, of whom I was very fond, I played atthe edge of the river where there is water, under the jujube trees, brothers of the _zeg-zeg_, the spines of which pierced the head ofyour prophet and which we call 'the tree of Paradise' because ourprophet told us that under it would live those chosen of Paradise;[15]and which is sometimes so big, so big, that a horseman cannot traverseits shade in a century. 

[Footnote 15: The Koran, Chapter 66, verse 17. (Note by M. Leroux. )]

"There we wove beautiful garlands with mimosa, the pink flowers of thecaper bush and white cockles. Then we threw them in the green water toward off evil spirits; and we laughed like mad things when a greatsnorting hippopotamus raised his swollen head and we bombarded him inglee until he had to plunge back again with a tremendous splash. 

"That was in the mornings. Then there fell on Gâo the deathlike lullof the red siesta. When that was finished, we came back to the edge ofthe river to see the enormous crocodiles with bronze goggle-eyes creepalong little by little, among the clouds of mosquitoes and day-flieson the banks, and work their way traitorously into the yellow ooze ofthe mud flats. 

"Then we bombarded them, as we had done the hippopotamus in themorning; and to fête the sun setting behind the black branches of the_douldouls_, we made a circle, stamping our feet, then clapping ourhands, as we sang the Sonrhaï hymn. 

"Such were the ordinary occupations of free little girls. But you mustnot think that we were only frivolous; and I will tell you, if youlike, how I, who am talking to you, I saved a French chieftain whomust be vastly greater than yourself, to judge by the number of goldribbons he had on his white sleeves. "

"Tell me, little Tanit-Zerga, " I said, my eyes elsewhere. 

"You have no right to smile, " she said a little aggrieved, "and to payno attention to me. But never mind! It is for myself that I tell thesethings, for the sake of recollection. Above Gâo, the Niger makes abend. There is a little promontory in the river, thickly covered withlarge gum trees. It was an evening in August and the sun was sinking. Not a bird in the forest but had gone to rest, motionless until themorning. Suddenly we heard an unfamiliar noise in the west, boum-boum, boum-boum, boum-baraboum, boum-boum, growing louder--boum-boum, boum-baraboum--and, suddenly, there was a great flight of water birds, aigrettes, pelicans, wild ducks and teal, which scattered over the gumtrees, followed by a column of black smoke, which was scarcelyflurried by the breeze that was springing up. 

"It was a gunboat, turning the point, sending out a wake that shookthe overhanging bushes on each side of the river. One could see thatthe red, white and blue flag on the stern had drooped till it wasdragging in the water, so heavy was the evening. 

"She stopped at the little point of land. A small boat was let down, manned by two native soldiers who rowed, and three chiefs who soonleapt ashore. 

"The oldest, a French _marabout_, with a great white burnous, who knewour language marvelously, asked to speak to Sheik Sonni-Azkia. When myfather advanced and told him that it was he, the _marabout_ told himthat the commandant of the Club at Timbuctoo was very angry, that amile from there the gunboat had run on an invisible pile of logs, thatshe had sprung a leak and that she could not so continue her voyagetowards Ansango. 

"My father replied that the French who protected the poor nativesagainst the Tuareg were welcome: that it was not from evil design, butfor fish that they had built the barrage, and that he put all theresources of Gâo, including the forge, at the disposition of theFrench chief, for repairing the gunboat. 

"While they were talking, the French chief looked at me and I lookedat him. He was already middle-aged, tall, with shoulders a littlebent, and blue eyes as clear as the stream whose name I bear. 

"'Come here, little one, ' he said in his gentle voice. 

"'I am the daughter of Sheik Sonni-Azkia, and I do only what I wish, 'I replied, vexed at his informality. 

"'You are right, ' he answered smiling, 'for you are pretty. Will yougive me the flowers that you have around your neck?'

"It was a great necklace of purple hibiscus. I held it out to him. Hekissed me. The peace was made. 

"Meantime, under the direction of my father, the native soldiers andstrong men of the tribe had hauled the gunboat into a pocket of theriver. 

"'There is work there for all day to-morrow, Colonel, ' said the chiefmechanic, after inspecting the leaks. 'We won't be able to get awaybefore the day after to-morrow. And, if we're to do that, these lazysoldiers mustn't loaf on the job. '

"'What an awful bore, ' groaned my new friend. 

"But his ill-humor did not last long, so ardently did my littlecompanions and I seek to distract him. He listened to our mostbeautiful songs; and, to thank us, made us taste the good things thathad been brought from the boat for his dinner. He slept in our greatcabin, which my father gave up to him; and for a long time, before Iwent to sleep, I looked through the cracks of the cabin where I laywith my mother, at the lights of the gunboat trembling in red rippleson the surface of the dark waves. 

"That night, I had a frightful dream. I saw my friend, the Frenchofficer, sleeping in peace, while a great crow hung croaking above hishead: 'Caw, --caw--the shade of the gum trees of Gâo--caw, caw--willavail nothing tomorrow night--caw, caw--to the white chief nor to hisescort. '

"Dawn had scarcely begun, when I went to find the native soldiers. They were stretched out on the bridge of the gunboat, taking advantageof the fact that the whites were still sleeping, to do nothing. 

"I approached the oldest one and spoke to him with authority:

'Listen, I saw the black crow in a dream last night. He told me thatthe shade of the gum trees of Gâo would be fatal to your chief in thecoming night!. .. '

"And, as they all remained motionless, stretched out, gazing at thesky, without even seeming to have heard, I added:

"'And to his escort!'

"It was the hour when the sun was highest, and the Colonel was eatingin the cabin with the other Frenchmen, when the chief mechanicentered. 

"'I don't know what has come over the natives. They are working likeangels. If they keep on this way, Colonel, we shall be able to leavethis evening. '

"'Very good, ' said the Colonel, 'but don't let them spoil the job bytoo much haste. We don't have to be at Ansango before the end of theweek. It will be better to start in the morning. '

"I trembled. Suppliantly I approached and told him the story of mydream. He listened with a smile of astonishment; then, at the last, hesaid gravely:

"'It is agreed, little Tanit-Zerga. We will leave this evening if youwish it. '

"And he kissed me. 

"The darkness had already fallen when the gunboat, now repaired, leftthe harbor. My friend stood in the midst of the group of Frenchmen whowaved their caps as long as we could see them. Standing alone on therickety jetty, I waited, watching the water flow by, until the lastsound of the steam-driven vessel, boum-baraboum, had died away intothe night. "[16]

[Footnote 16: Cf. The records and the _Bulletin de la Société deGéographie de Paris_ (1897) for the cruises on the Niger, made by the_Commandant_ of the Timbuctoo region, Colonel Joffre, LieutenantsBaudry and Bluset, and by Father Hacquart of the White Fathers. (Noteby M. Leroux. )]

Tanit-Zerga paused. 

"That was the last night of Gâo. While I was sleeping and the moon wasstill high above the forest, a dog yelped, but only for an instant. Then came the cry of men, then of women, the kind of cry that you cannever forget if you have once heard it. When the sun rose, it foundme, quite naked, running and stumbling towards the north with mylittle companions, beside the swiftly moving camels of the Tuareg whoescorted us. Behind, followed the women of the tribe, my mother amongthem, two by two, the yoke upon their necks. There were not many men. Almost all lay with their throats cut under the ruins of the thatch ofGâo beside my father, brave Sonni-Azkia. Once again Gâo had been razedby a band of Awellimiden, who had come to massacre the French on theirgunboat. 

"The Tuareg hurried us, hurried us, for they were afraid of beingpursued. We traveled thus for ten days; and, as the millet and hempdisappeared, the march became more frightful. Finally, near Isakeryen, in the country of Kidal, the Tuareg sold us to a caravan of TrarzanMoors who were going from Bamrouk to Rhât. At first, because they wentmore slowly, it seemed good fortune. But, before long, the desert wasan expanse of rough pebbles, and the women began to fall. As for themen, the last of them had died far back under the blows of the stickfor having refused to go farther. 

"I still had the strength to keep going, and even as far in the leadas possible, so as not to hear the cries of my little playmates. Eachtime one of them fell by the way, unable to rise again, they saw oneof the drivers descend from his camel and drag her into the bushes alittle way to cut her throat. But one day, I heard a cry that made meturn around. It was my mother. She was kneeling, holding out her poorarms to me. In an instant I was beside her. But a great Moor, dressedin white, separated us. A red moroccan case hung around his neck froma black chaplet. He drew a cutlass from it. I can still see the bluesteel on the brown skin. Another horrible cry. An instant later, driven by a club, I was trotting ahead, swallowing my little tears, trying to regain my place in the caravan. 

"Near the wells of Asiou, the Moors were attacked by a party of Tuaregof Kel-Tazeholet, serfs of the great tribe of Kel-Rhelâ, which rulesover Ahaggar. They, in their turn, were massacred to the last man. That is how I was brought here, and offered as homage to Antinea, whowas pleased with me and ever since has been kind to me. That is why itis no slave who soothes your fever to-day with stories that you do noteven listen to, but the last descendant of the great Sonrhaï Emperors, of Sonni-Ali, the destroyer of men and of countries, of MohammedAzkia, who made the pilgrimage to Mecca, taking with him fifteenhundred cavaliers and three hundred thousand _mithkal_ of gold in thedays when our power stretched without rival from Chad to Touat and tothe western sea, and when Gâo raised her cupola, sister of the sky, above the other cities, higher above her rival cupolas than is thetamarisk above the humble plants of sorghum. "

XVI

THE SILVER HAMMER

 _Je ne m'en défends plus et je ne veux qu' aller Reconnaître la place où je dois l'immoler_. (Andromaque. )

It was this sort of a night when what I am going to tell you nowhappened. Toward five o'clock the sky clouded over and a sense of thecoming storm trembled in the stifling air. 

I shall always remember it. It was the fifth of January, 1897. 

King Hiram and Galé lay heavily on the matting of my room. Leaning onmy elbows beside Tanit-Zerga in the rock-hewn window, I spied theadvance tremors of lightning. 

One by one they rose, streaking the now total darkness with theirbluish stripes. But no burst of thunder followed. The storm did notattain the peaks of Ahaggar. It passed without breaking, leaving us inour gloomy bath of sweat. 

"I am going to bed, " said Tanit-Zerga. 

I have said that her room was above mine. Its bay window was somethirty feet above that before which I lay. 

She took Galé in her arms. But King Hiram would have none of it. Digging his four paws into the matting, he whined in anger anduneasiness. 

"Leave him, " I finally said to Tanit-Zerga. "For once he may sleephere. "

So it was that this little beast incurred his large share ofresponsibility in the events which followed. 

Left alone, I became lost in my reflections. The night was black. Thewhole mountain was shrouded in silence. 

It took the louder and louder growls of the leopard to rouse me frommy meditation. 

King Hiram was braced against the door, digging at it with his drawnclaws. He, who had refused to follow Tanit-Zerga a while ago, nowwanted to go out. He was determined to go out. 

"Be still, " I said to him. "Enough of that. Lie down!"

I tried to pull him away from the door. 

I succeeded only in getting a staggering blow from his paw. 

Then I sat down on the divan. 

My quiet was short. "Be honest with yourself, " I said. "Since Morhangeabandoned you, since the day when you saw Antinea, you have had onlyone idea. What good is it to beguile yourself with the stories ofTanit-Zerga, charming as they are? This leopard is a pretext, perhapsa guide. Oh, you know that mysterious things are going to happentonight. How have you been able to keep from doing anything as long asthis?"

Immediately I made a resolve. 

"If I open the door, " I thought, "King Hiram will leap down thecorridor and I shall have great difficulty in following him. I mustfind some other way. "

The shade of the window was worked by means of a small cord. I pulledit down. Then I tied it into a firm leash which I fastened to themetal collar of the leopard. 

I half opened the door. 

"There, now you can go. But quietly, quietly. "

I had all the trouble in the world to curb the ardor of King Hiram whodragged me along the shadowy labyrinth of corridors. It was shortlybefore nine o'clock, and the rose-colored night lights were almostburned out in the niches. Now and then, we passed one which wascasting its last flickers. What a labyrinth! I realized that from hereon I would not recognize the way to her room. I could only follow theleopard. 

At first furious, he gradually became used to towing me. He strainedahead, belly to the ground, with snuffs of joy. 

Nothing is more like one black corridor than another black corridor. Doubt seized me. Suppose I should suddenly find myself in the baccaratroom! But that was unjust to King Hiram. Barred too long from the dearpresence, the good beast was taking me exactly where I wanted him totake me. 

Suddenly, at a turn, the darkness ahead lifted. A rose window, faintlyglimmering red and green, appeared before us. 

The leopard stopped with a low growl before the door in which the rosewindow was cut. 

I recognized it as the door through which the white Targa had led methe day after my arrival, when I had been set upon by King Hiram, whenI had found myself in the presence of Antinea. 

"We are much better friends to-day, " I said, flattering him so that hewould not give a dangerously loud growl. 

I tried to open the door. The light, coming through the window, fellupon the floor, green and red. 

A simple latch, which I turned. I shortened the leash to have bettercontrol of King Hiram who was getting nervous. 

The great room where I had seen Antinea for the first time wascompletely dark. But the garden on which it gave shone under aclouded moon, in a sky weighted down with the storm which did notbreak. Not a breath of air. The lake gleamed like a sheet of pewter. 

I seated myself on a cushion, holding the leopard firmly between myknees. He was purring with impatience. I was thinking. Not about mygoal. For a long time that had been fixed. But about the means. 

Then, I seemed to hear a distant murmur, a faint sound of voices. 

King Hiram growled louder, struggled. I gave him a little more leash. He began to rub along the dark walls on the sides whence the voicesseemed to come. I followed him, stumbling as quietly as I could amongthe scattered cushions. 

My eyes, become accustomed to the darkness, could see the pyramid ofcushions on which Antinea had first appeared to me. 

Suddenly I stumbled. The leopard had stopped. I realized that I hadstepped on his tail. Brave beast, he did not make a sound. 

Groping along the wall, I felt a second door. Quietly, very quietly, Iopened it as I had opened the preceding one. The leopard whimperedfeebly. 

"King Hiram, " I murmured, "be quiet. "

And I put my arms about his powerful neck. 

I felt his warm wet tongue on my hands. His flanks quivered. He shookwith happiness. 

In front of us, lighted in the center, another room opened up. In themiddle six men were squatting on the matting, playing dice anddrinking coffee from tiny copper coffee cups with long stems. 

They were the white Tuareg. 

A lamp, hung from the ceiling, threw a circle of light over them. Everything outside that circle was in deep shadow. 

The black faces, the copper cups, the white robes, the moving lightand shadow, made a strange etching. 

They played with a reserved dignity, announcing the throws in raucousvoices. 

Then, slowly, very slowly, I slipped the leash from the collar of theimpatient little beast. 

"Go, boy. "

He leapt with a sharp yelp. 

And what I had foreseen happened. 

The first bound of King Hiram carried him into the midst of the whiteTuareg, sowing confusion in the bodyguard. Another leap carried himinto the shadow again. I made out vaguely the shaded opening ofanother corridor on the side of the room opposite where I wasstanding. 

"There!" I thought. 

The confusion in the room was indescribable, but noiseless. Onerealized the restraint which nearness to a great presence imposed uponthe exasperated guards. The stakes and the dice-boxes had rolled inone direction, the copper cups, in the other. 

Two of the Tuareg, doubled up with pain, were rubbing their ribs withlow oaths. 

I need not say that I profited by this silent confusion to glide intothe room. I was now flattened against the wall of the second corridor, down which King Hiram had just disappeared. 

At that moment a clear gong echoed in the silence. The trembling whichseized the Tuareg assured me that I had chosen the right way. 

One of the six men got up. He passed me and I fell in behind him. Iwas perfectly calm. My least movement was perfectly calculated. 

"All that I risk here now, " I said to myself, "is being led backpolitely to my room. "

The Targa lifted a curtain. I followed on his heels into the chamberof Antinea. 

The room was huge and at once well lighted and very dark. While theright half, where Antinea was, gleamed under shaded lamps, the leftwas dim. 

Those who have penetrated into a Mussulman home know what a _guignol_is, a kind of square niche in the wall, four feet from the floor, itsopening covered by a curtain. One mounts to it by wooden steps. Inoticed such a _guignol_ at my left. I crept into it. My pulses beatin the shadow. But I was calm, quite calm. 

There I could see and hear everything. 

I was in Antinea's chamber. There was nothing singular about the room, except the great luxury of the hangings. The ceiling was in shadow, but multicolored lanterns cast a vague and gentle light over gleamingstuffs and furs. 

Antinea was stretched out on a lion's skin, smoking. A little silvertray and pitcher lay beside her. King Hiram was flattened out at herfeet, licking them madly. 

The Targa slave stood rigid before her, one hand on his heart, theother on his forehead, saluting. 

Antinea spoke in a hard voice, without looking at the man. 

"Why did you let the leopard pass? I told you that I wanted to bealone. "

"He knocked us over, mistress, " said the Targa humbly. 

"The doors were not closed, then?"

The slave did not answer. 

"Shall I take him away?" he asked. 

And his eyes, fastened upon King Hiram who stared at him maliciously, expressed well enough his desire for a negative reply. 

"Let him stay since he is here, " said Antinea. 

She tapped nervously on the little silver tray. 

"What is the captain doing?" she asked. 

"He dined a while ago and seemed to enjoy his food, " the Targaanswered. 

"Has he said nothing?"

"Yes, he asked to see his companion, the other officer. "

Antinea tapped the little tray still more rapidly. 

"Did he say nothing else?"

"No, mistress, " said the man. 

A pallor overspread the Atlantide's little forehead. 

"Go get him, " she said brusquely. 

Bowing, the Targa left the room. 

I listened to this dialogue with great anxiety. Was this Morhange? Hadhe been faithful to me, after all? Had I suspected him unjustly? Hehad wanted to see me and been unable to!

My eyes never left Antinea's. 

She was no longer the haughty, mocking princess of our firstinterview. She no longer wore the golden circlet on her forehead. Nota bracelet, not a ring. She was dressed only in a full flowing tunic. Her black hair, unbound, lay in masses of ebony over her slightshoulders and her bare arms. 

Her beautiful eyes were deep circled. Her divine mouth drooped. I didnot know whether I was glad or sorry to see this new quiveringCleopatra. 

Flattened at her feet, King Hiram gazed submissively at her. 

An immense orichalch mirror with golden reflections was set into thewall at the right. Suddenly she raised herself erect before it. I sawher nude. 

A splendid and bitter sight!--A woman who thinks herself alone, standing before her mirror in expectation of the man she wishes tosubdue!

The six incense-burners scattered about the room sent up invisiblecolumns of perfume. The balsam spices of Arabia wore floating webs inwhich my shameless senses were entangled. .. . And, back toward me, standing straight as a lily, Antinea smiled into her mirror. 

Low steps sounded in the corridor. Antinea immediately fell back intothe nonchalant pose in which I had first seen her. One had to see sucha transformation to believe it possible. 

Morhange entered the room, preceded by a white Targa. 

He, too, seemed rather pale. But I was most struck by the expressionof serene peace on that face which I thought I knew so well. I feltthat I never had understood what manner of man Morhange was, never. 

He stood erect before Antinea without seeming to notice her gestureinviting him to be seated. 

She smiled at him. 

"You are surprised, perhaps, " she said finally, "that I should sendfor you at so late an hour. "

Morhange did not move an eyelash. 

"Have you considered it well?" she demanded. 

Morhange smiled gravely, but did not reply. 

I could read in Antinea's face the effort it cost her to continuesmiling; I admired the self-control of these two beings. 

"I sent for you, " she continued. "You do not guess why?. .. Well, it isto tell you something that you do not expect. It will be no surpriseto you if I say that I never met a man like you. During yourcaptivity, you have expressed only one wish. Do you recall it?"

"I asked your permission to see my friend before I died, " saidMorhange simply. 

I do not know what stirred me more on hearing these words: delight atMorhange's formal tone in speaking to Antinea, or emotion at hearingthe one wish he had expressed. 

But Antinea continued calmly:

"That is why I sent for you--to tell you that you are going to see himagain. And I am going to do something else. You will perhaps scorn meeven more when you realize that you had only to oppose me to bend meto your will--I, who have bent all other wills to mine. But, howeverthat may be, it is decided: I give you both your liberty. TomorrowCeghéir-ben-Cheikh will lead you past the fifth enclosure. Are yousatisfied?"

"I am, " said Morhange with a mocking smile. 

"That will give me a chance, " he continued, "to make better plans forthe next trip I intend to make this way. For you need not doubt that Ishall feel bound to return to express my gratitude. Only, next time, to render so great a queen the honors due her, I shall ask mygovernment to furnish me with two or three hundred European soldiersand several cannon. "

Antinea was standing up, very pale. 

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying, " said Morhange coldly, "that I foresaw this. Firstthreats, then promises. "

Antinea stepped toward him. He had folded his arms. He looked at herwith a sort of grave pity. 

"I will make you die in the most atrocious agonies, " she said finally. 

"I am your prisoner, " Morhange replied. 

"You shall suffer things that you cannot even imagine. "

"I am your prisoner, " repeated Morhange in the same sad calm. 

Antinea paced the room like a beast in a cage. She advanced toward mycompanion and, no longer mistress of herself, struck him in the face. 

He smiled and caught hold of her, drawing her little wrists togetherwith a strange mixture of force and gentleness. 

King Hiram growled. I thought he was about to leap. But the cold eyesof Morhange held him fascinated. 

"I will have your comrade killed before your eyes, " gasped Antinea. 

It seemed to me that Morhange paled, but only for a second. I wasovercome by the nobility and insight of his reply. 

"My companion is brave. He does not fear death. And, in any case, hewould prefer death to life purchased at the price you name. "

So saying, he let go Antinea's wrists. Her pallor was terrible. Fromthe expression of her mouth I felt that this would be her last word tohim. 

"Listen, " she said. 

How beautiful she was, in her scorned majesty, her beauty powerlessfor the first time!

"Listen, " she continued. "Listen. For the last time. Remember that Ihold the gates of this palace, that I have supreme power over yourlife. Remember that you breathe only at my pleasure. Remember. .. . "

"I have remembered all that, " said Morhange. 

"A last time, " she repeated. 

The serenity of Morhange's face was so powerful that I scarcelynoticed his opponent. In that transfigured countenance, no trace ofworldliness remained. 

"A last time, " came Antinea's voice, almost breaking. 

Morhange was not even looking at her. 

"As you will, " she said. 

Her gong resounded. She had struck the silver disc. The white Targaappeared. 

"Leave the room!"

Morhange, his head held high, went out. 

Now Antinea is in my arms. This is no haughty, voluptuous woman whomI am pressing to my heart. It is only an unhappy, scorned little girl. 

So great was her trouble that she showed no surprise when I steppedout beside her. Her head is on my shoulder. Like the crescent moon inthe black clouds, I see her clear little bird-like profile amid hermass of hair. Her warm arms hold me convulsively. .. . _O tremblantcoeur humain_. .. . 

Who could resist such an embrace, amid the soft perfumes, in thelangorous night? I feel myself a being without will. Is this my voice, the voice which is murmuring:

"Ask me what you will, and I will do it, I will do it. "

My senses are sharpened, tenfold keen. My head rests against a soft, nervous little knee. Clouds of odors whirl about me. Suddenly it seemsas if the golden lanterns are waving from the ceiling like giantcensers. Is this my voice, the voice repeating in a dream:

"Ask me what you will, and I will do it. I will do it. "

Antinea's face is almost touching mine. A strange light flickers inher great eyes. 

Beyond, I see the gleaming eyes of King Hiram. Beside him, there is alittle table of Kairouan, blue and gold. On that table I see the gongwith which Antinea summons the slaves. I see the hammer with which shestruck it just now, a hammer with a long ebony handle, a heavy silverhead . .. The hammer with which little Lieutenant Kaine dealt death. .. . 

I see nothing more. .. . 

XVII

THE MAIDENS OF THE ROCKS

I awakened in my room. The sun, already at its zenith, filled theplace with unbearable light and heat. 

The first thing I saw, on opening my eyes, was the shade, ripped down, lying in the middle of the floor. Then, confusedly, the night's eventsbegan to come back to me. 

My head felt stupid and heavy. My mind wandered. My memory seemedblocked. "I went out with the leopard, that is certain. That red markon my forefinger shows how he strained at the leash. My knees arestill dusty. I remember creeping along the wall in the room where thewhite Tuareg were playing at dice. That was the minute after KingHiram had leapt past them. After that . .. Oh, Morhange and Antinea. .. . And then?"

I recalled nothing more. I recalled nothing more. But something musthave happened, something which I could not remember. 

I was uneasy. I wanted to go back, yet it seemed as if I were afraidto go. I have never felt anything more painful than those conflictingemotions. 

"It is a long way from here to Antinea's apartments. I must have beenvery sound asleep not to have noticed when they brought me back--forthey have brought me back. "

I stopped trying to think it out. My head ached too much. 

"I must have air, " I murmured. "I am roasting here; it will drive memad. "

I had to see someone, no matter whom. Mechanically, I walked towardthe library. 

I found M. Le Mesge in a transport of delirious joy. The Professor wasengaged in opening an enormous bale, carefully sewed in a brownblanket. 

"You come at a good time, sir, " he cried, on seeing me enter. "Themagazines have just arrived. "

He dashed about in feverish haste. Presently a stream of pamphlets andmagazines, blue, green, yellow and salmon, was bursting from anopening in the bale. 

"Splendid, splendid!" he cried, dancing with joy. "Not too late, either; here are the numbers for October fifteenth. We must give avote of thanks to good Ameur. "

His good spirits were contagious. 

"There is a good Turkish merchant who subscribes to all theinteresting magazines of the two continents. He sends them on byRhadamès to a destination which he little suspects. Ah, here are theFrench ones. "

M. Le Mesge ran feverishly over, the tables of contents. 

"Internal politics: articles by Francis Charmes, AnatoleLeroy-Beaulieu, d'Haussonville on the Czar's trip to Paris. Look, astudy by Avenel of wages in the Middle Ages. And verse, verses of theyoung poets, Fernand Gregh, Edmond Haraucourt. Ah, the resumé of abook by Henry de Castries on Islam. That may be interesting. .. . Takewhat you please. "

Joy makes people amiable and M. Le Mesge was really delirious with it. 

A puff of breeze came from the window. I went to the balustrade and, resting my elbows on it, began to run through a number of the _Revuedes Deux Mondes_. 

I did not read, but flipped over the pages, my eyes now on the linesof swarming little black characters, now on the rocky basin which layshivering, pale pink, under the declining sun. 

Suddenly my attention became fixed. There was a strange coincidencebetween the text and the landscape. 

"In the sky overhead were only light shreds of cloud, like bits ofwhite ash floating up from burnt-out logs. The sun fell over a circleof rocky peaks, silhouetting their severe lines against the azure sky. From on high, a great sadness and gentleness poured down into thelonely enclosure, like a magic drink into a deep cup. .. . "[17]

[Footnote 17: Gabrielle d'Annunzio: _Les Vierges aux Rochers_. Cf. The_Revue des Deux Mondes_ of October 15, 1896; page 867. ]

I turned the pages feverishly. My mind seemed to be clearing. 

Behind me, M. Le Mesge, deep in an article, voiced his opinions inindignant growls. 

I continued reading:

"On all sides a magnificent view spread out before us in the rawlight. The chain of rocks, clearly visible in their barren desolationwhich stretched to the very summit, lay stretched out like some greatheap of gigantic, unformed things left by some primordial race ofTitans to stupefy human beings. Overturned towers. .. . "

"It is shameful, downright shameful, " the Professor was repeating. 

"Overturned towers, crumbling citadels, cupolas fallen in, brokenpillars, mutilated colossi, prows of vessels, thighs of monsters, bones of titans, --this mass, impassable with its ridges and gullies, seemed the embodiment of everything huge and tragic. So clear were thedistances. .. . "

"Downright shameful, " M. Le Mesge kept on saying in exasperation, thumping his fist on the table. 

"So clear were the distances that I could see, as if I had it under myeyes, infinitely enlarged, every contour of the rock which Violantehad shown me through the window with the gesture of a creator. .. . "

Trembling, I closed the magazine. At my feet, now red, I saw the rockwhich Antinea had pointed out to me the day of our first interview, huge, steep, overhanging the reddish brown garden. 

"That is my horizon, " she had said. 

M. Le Mesge's excitement had passed all bounds. 

"It is worse than shameful; it is infamous. "

I almost wanted to strangle him into silence. He seized my arm. 

"Read that, sir; and, although you don't know a great deal about thesubject, you will see that this article on Roman Africa is a miracleof misinformation, a monument of ignorance. And it is signed . .. Doyou know by whom it is signed?"

"Leave me alone, " I said brutally. 

"Well, it is signed Gaston Boissier. Yes, sir! Gaston Boissier, grandofficer of the Legion of Honor, lecturer at the _Ecole NormaleSupérieure_, permanent secretary of the French Academy, member of theAcademy of Inscriptions and Literature, one of those who once ruledout the subject of my thesis . .. One of those . .. Ah, poor university, ah, poor France!"

I was no longer listening. I had begun to read again. My forehead wascovered with sweat. But it seemed as if my head had been cleared likea room when a window is opened; memories were beginning to come backlike doves winging their way home to the dovecote. 

"At that moment, an irrepressible tremor shook her whole body; hereyes dilated as if some terrible sight had filled them with horror. 

"'Antonello, ' she murmured. 

"And for seconds, she was unable to say another word. 

"I looked at her in mute anguish and the suffering which drew her dearlips together seemed also to clutch at my heart. The vision which wasin her eyes passed into mine, and I saw again the thin white face ofAntonello, and the quick quivering of his eyelids, the waves of agonywhich seized his long worn body and shook it like a reed. "

I threw the magazine upon the table. 

"That is it, " I said. 

To cut the pages, I had used the knife with which M. Le Mesge had cutthe cords of the bale, a short ebony-handled dagger, one of thosedaggers that the Tuareg wear in a bracelet sheath against the upperleft arm. 

I slipped it into the big pocket of my flannel dolman and walkedtoward the door. 

I was about to cross the threshold when I heard M. Le Mesge call me. 

"Monsieur de Saint Avit! Monsieur de Saint Avit!

"I want to ask you something, please. "

"What is it?"

"Nothing important. You know that I have to mark the labels for thered marble hall. .. . "

I walked toward the table. 

"Well, I forgot to ask M. Morhange, at the beginning, the date andplace of his birth. After that, I had no chance. I did not see himagain. So I am forced to turn to you. Perhaps you can tell me?"

"I can, " I said very calmly. 

He took a large white card from a box which contained several anddipped his pen. 

"Number 54 . .. Captain?"

"Captain Jean-Marie-François Morhange. "

While I dictated, one hand resting on the table, I noticed on my cuffa stain, a little stain, reddish brown. 

"Morhange, " repeated M. Le Mesge, finishing the lettering of myfriend's name. "Born at. .. ?"

"Villefranche. "

"Villefranche, Rhône. What date?"

"The fourteenth of October, 1859. "

"The fourteenth of October, 1859. Good. Died at Ahaggar, the fifth ofJanuary, 1897. .. . There, that is done. A thousand thanks, sir, foryour kindness. "

"You are welcome. "

I left M. Le Mesge. 

My mind, thenceforth, was well made up; and, as I said, I wasperfectly calm. Nevertheless, when I had taken leave of M. Le Mesge, Ifelt the need of waiting a few minutes before executing my decision. 

First I wandered through the corridors; then, finding myself near myroom, I went to it. It was still intolerably hot. I sat down on mydivan and began to think. 

The dagger in my pocket bothered me. I took it out and laid it on thefloor. 

It was a good dagger, with a diamond-shaped blade, and with a collarof orange leather between the blade and the handle. 

The sight of it recalled the silver hammer. I remembered how easily itfitted into my hand when I struck. .. . 

Every detail of the scene came back to me with incomparable vividness. But I did not even shiver. It seemed as if my determination to killthe instigator of the murder permitted me peacefully to evoke itsbrutal details. 

If I reflected over my deed, it was to be surprised at it, not tocondemn myself. 

"Well, " I said to myself, "I have killed this Morhange, who was once ababy, who, like all the others, cost his mother so much trouble withhis baby sicknesses. I have put an end to his life, I have reduced tonothingness the monument of love, of tears, of trials overcome andpitfalls escaped, which constitutes a human existence. What anextraordinary adventure!"

That was all. No fear, no remorse, none of that Shakespearean horrorafter the murder, which, today, sceptic though I am and blasé andutterly, utterly disillusioned, sets me shuddering whenever I am alonein a dark room. 

"Come, " I thought. "It's time. Time to finish it up. "

I picked up the dagger. Before putting it in my pocket, I went throughthe motion of striking. All was well. The dagger fitted into my hand. 

I had been through Antinea's apartment only when guided, the firsttime by the white Targa, the second time, by the leopard. Yet I foundthe way again without trouble. Just before coming to the door with therose window, I met a Targa. 

"Let me pass, " I ordered. "Your mistress has sent for me. " The manobeyed, stepping back. 

Soon a dim melody came to my ears. I recognized the sound of a_rebaza_, the violin with a single string, played by the Tuareg women. It was Aguida playing, squatting as usual at the feet of her mistress. The three other women were also squatted about her. Tanit-Zerga wasnot there. 

Oh! Since that was the last time I saw her, let, oh, let me tell youof Antinea, how she looked in that supreme moment. 

Did she feel the danger hovering over her and did she wish to brave itby her surest artifices? I had in mind the slender; unadorned body, without rings, without jewels, which I had pressed to my heart thenight before. And now I started in surprise at seeing before me, adorned like an idol, not a woman, but a queen!

The heavy splendor of the Pharaohs weighted down her slender body. Onher head was the great gold _pschent_ of Egyptian gods and kings;emeralds, the national stone of the Tuareg, were set in it, tracingand retracing her name in Tifinar characters. A red satin _schenti_, embroidered in golden lotus, enveloped her like the casket of a jewel. At her feet, lay an ebony scepter, headed with a trident. Her barearms were encircled by two serpents whose fangs touched her armpits asif to bury themselves there. From the ear pieces of the _pschent_streamed a necklace of emeralds; its first strand passed under herdetermined chin; the others lay in circles against her bare throat. 

She smiled as I entered. 

"I was expecting you, " she said simply. 

I advanced till I was four steps from the throne, then stopped beforeher. 

She looked at me ironically. 

"What is that?" she asked with perfect calm. 

I followed her gesture. The handle of the dagger protruded from mypocket. 

I drew it out and held it firmly in my hand, ready to strike. 

"The first of you who moves will be sent naked six leagues into thered desert and left there to die, " said Antinea coldly to her women, whom my gesture had thrown into a frightened murmuring. 

She turned to me. 

"That dagger is very ugly and you hold it badly. Shall I send Sydya tomy room to get the silver hammer? You are more adroit with it thanwith the dagger. "

"Antinea, " I said in a low voice, "I am going to kill you. "

"Do not speak so formally. You were more affectionate last night. Areyou embarrassed by them?" she said, pointing to the women, whose eyeswere wide with terror. 

"Kill me?" she went on. "You are hardly reasonable. Kill me at themoment when you can reap the fruits of the murder of. .. . "

"Did--did he suffer?" I asked suddenly, trembling. 

"Very little. I told you that you used the hammer as if you had donenothing else all your life. "

"Like little Kaine, " I murmured. 

She smiled in surprise. 

"Oh, you know that story. .. . Yes, like little Kaine. But at leastKaine was sensible. You . .. I do not understand. "

"I do not understand myself, very well. "

She looked at me with amused curiosity. 

"Antinea, " I said. 

"What is it?"

"I did what you told me to. May I in turn ask one favor, ask you onequestion?"

"What is it?"

"It was dark, was it not, in the room where _he_ was?"

"Very dark. I had to lead you to the bed where he lay asleep. "

"He _was_ asleep, you are sure?"

"I said so. "

"He--did not die instantly, did he?"

"No. I know exactly when he died; two minutes after you struck him andfled with a shriek. "

"Then surely _he_ could not have known?"

"Known what?"

"That it was I who--who held the hammer. "

"He might not have known it, indeed, " Antinea said. "But he did know. "

"How?"

"He did know . .. Because I told him, " she said, staring at me withmagnificent audacity. 

"And, " I murmured, "he--he believed it?"

"With the help of my explanation, he recognized your shriek. If he hadnot realized that you were his murderer, the affair would not haveinterested me, " she finished with a scornful little smile. 

Four steps, I said, separated me from Antinea. I sprang forward. But, before I reached her, I was struck to the floor. 

King Hiram had leapt at my throat. 

At the same moment I heard the calm, haughty voice of Antinea:

"Call the men, " she commanded. 

A second later I was released from the leopard's clutch. The six whiteTuareg had surrounded me and were trying to bind me. 

I am fairly strong and quick. I was on my feet in a second. One of myenemies lay on the floor, ten feet away, felled by a well-placed blowon the jaw. Another was gasping under my knee. That was the last timeI saw Antinea. She stood erect, both hands resting on her ebonyscepter, watching the struggle with a smile of contemptuous interest. 

Suddenly I gave a loud cry and loosed the hold I had on my victim. Acracking in my left arm: one of the Tuareg had seized it and twisteduntil my shoulder was dislocated. 

When I completely lost consciousness, I was being carried down thecorridor by two white phantoms, so bound that I could not move amuscle. 

XVIII

THE FIRE-FLIES

Through the great open window, waves of pale moonlight surged into myroom. 

A slender white figure was standing beside the bed where I lay. 

"You, Tanit-Zerga!" I murmured. She laid a finger on her lips. 

"Sh! Yes, it is I. "

I tried to raise myself up on the bed. A terrible pain seized myshoulder. The events of the afternoon came back to my poor harassedmind. 

"Oh, little one, if you knew!"

"I know, " she said. 

I was weaker than a baby. After the overstrain of the day had come afit of utter nervous depression. A lump rose in my throat, choking me. 

"If you knew, if you only knew!. .. Take me away, little one. Get meaway from here. "

"Not so loud, " she whispered. "There is a white Targa on guard at thedoor. "

"Take me away; save me, " I repeated. 

"That is what I came for, " she said simply. 

I looked at her. She no longer was wearing her beautiful red silktunic. A plain white _haik_ was wrapped about her; and she had drawnone corner of it over her head. 

"I want to go away, too, " she said in a smothered voice. 

"For a long time, I have wanted to go away. I want to see Gâo, thevillage on the bank of the river, and the blue gum trees, and thegreen water. 

"Ever since I came here, I have wanted to get away, " she repeated, "but I am too little to go alone into the great Sahara. I never daredspeak to the others who came here before you. They all thought only of_her_. .. . But you, you wanted to kill her. "

I gave a low moan. 

"You are suffering, " she said. "They broke your arm. "

"Dislocated it anyhow. "

"Let me see. "

With infinite gentleness, she passed her smooth little hands over myshoulder. 

"You tell me that there is a white Targa on guard before my door, Tanit-Zerga, " I said. "Then how did you get in?"

"That way, " she said, pointing to the window. A dark perpendicularline halved its blue opening. 

Tanit-Zerga went to the window. I saw her standing erect on the sill. A knife shone in her hands. She cut the rope at the top of theopening. It slipped down to the stone with a dry sound. 

She came back to me. 

"How can we escape?" I asked. 

"That way, " she repeated, and she pointed again at the window. 

I leaned out. My feverish gaze fell upon the shadowy depths, searchingfor those invisible rocks, the rocks upon which little Kaine haddashed himself. 

"That way!" I exclaimed, shuddering. "Why, it is two hundred feet fromhere to the ground. "

"The rope is two hundred and fifty, " she replied. "It is a good strongrope which I stole in the oasis; they used it in felling trees. It isquite new. "

"Climb down that way, Tanit-Zerga! With my shoulder!"

"I will let you down, " she said firmly. "Feel how strong my arms are. Not that I shall rest your weight on them. But see, on each side ofthe window is a marble column. By twisting the rope around one ofthem, I can let you slip down and scarcely feel your weight. 

"And look, " she continued, "I have made a big knot every ten feet. Ican stop the rope with them, every now and then, if I want to rest. "

"And you?" I asked. 

"When you are down, I shall tie the rope to one of the columns andfollow. There are the knots on which to rest if the rope cuts my handstoo much. But don't be afraid: I am very agile. At Gâo, when I wasjust a child, I used to climb almost as high as this in the gum treesto take the little toucans out of their nests. It is even easier toclimb down. "

"And when we are down, how will we get out? Do you know the waythrough the barriers?"

"No one knows the way through the barriers, " she said, "exceptCeghéir-ben-Cheikh, and perhaps Antinea. "

"Then?"

"There are the camels of Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, those which he uses onhis forays. I untethered the strongest one and led him out, just belowus, and gave him lots of hay so that he will not make a sound and willbe well fed when we start. "

"But. .. . " I still protested. 

She stamped her foot. 

"But what? Stay if you wish, if you are afraid. I am going. I want tosee Gâo once again, Gâo with its blue gum-trees and its green water. "

I felt myself blushing. 

"I will go, Tanit-Zerga. I would rather die of thirst in the midst ofthe desert than stay here. Let us start. "

"Tut!" she said. "Not yet. "

She showed me that the dizzy descent was in brilliant moonlight. 

"Not yet. We must wait. They would see us. In an hour, the moon willhave circled behind the mountain. That will be the time. "

She sat silent, her _haik_ wrapped completely about her dark littlefigure. Was she praying? Perhaps. 

Suddenly I no longer saw her. Darkness had crept in the window. Themoon had turned. 

Tanit-Zerga's hand was on my arm. She drew me toward the abyss. Itried not to tremble. 

Everything below us was in shadow. In a low, firm voice, Tanit-Zergabegan to speak:

"Everything is ready. I have twisted the rope about the pillar. Hereis the slip-knot. Put it under your arms. Take this cushion. Keep itpressed against your hurt shoulder. .. . A leather cushion. .. . It istightly stuffed. Keep face to the wall. It will protect you againstthe bumping and scraping. "

I was now master of myself, very calm. I sat down on the sill of thewindow, my feet in the void. A breath of cool air from the peaksrefreshed me. 

I felt little Tanit-Zerga's hand in my vest pocket. 

"Here is a box. I must know when you are down, so I can follow. Youwill open the box. There are fire-flies in it; I shall see them andfollow you. "

She held my hand a moment. 

"Now go, " she murmured. 

I went. 

I remember only one thing about that descent: I was overcome withvexation when the rope stopped and I found myself, feet dangling, against the perfectly smooth wall. 

"What is the little fool waiting for?" I said to myself. "I have beenhung here for a quarter of an hour. Ah . .. At last! Oh, here I amstopped again. " Once or twice I thought I was reaching the ground, butit was only a projection from the rock. I had to give a quick shovewith my foot. .. . Then, suddenly, I found myself seated on the ground. I stretched out my hands. Bushes. .. . A thorn pricked my finger. I wasdown. 

Immediately I began to get nervous again. 

I pulled out the cushion and slipped off the noose. With my good hand, I pulled the rope, holding it out five or six feet from the face ofthe mountain, and put my foot on it. 

Then I took the little cardboard box from my pocket and opened it. 

One after the other, three little luminous circles rose in the inkynight. I saw them rise higher and higher against the rocky wall. Theirpale rose aureols gleamed faintly. Then, one by one, they turned, disappeared. 

"You are tired, Sidi Lieutenant. Let me hold the rope. "

Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh rose up at my side. 

I looked at his tall black silhouette. I shuddered, but I did not letgo of the rope on which I began to feel distant jerks. 

"Give it to me, " he repeated with authority. 

And he took it from my hands. 

I don't know what possessed me then. I was standing beside that greatdark phantom. And I ask you, what could I, with a dislocatedshoulder, do against that man whose agile strength I already knew?What was there to do? I saw him buttressed against the wall, holdingthe rope with both hands, with both feet, with all his body, muchbetter than I had been able to do. 

A rustling above our heads. A little shadowy form. 

"There, " said Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, seizing the little shadow in hispowerful arms and placing her on the ground, while the rope, letslack, slapped back against the rock. 

Tanit-Zerga recognized the Targa and groaned. 

He put his hand roughly over her mouth. 

"Shut up, camel thief, wretched little fly. "

He seized her arm. Then he turned to me. 

"Come, " he said in an imperious tone. 

I obeyed. During our short walk, I heard Tanit-Zerga's teethchattering with terror. 

We reached a little cave. 

"Go in, " said the Targa. 

He lighted a torch. The red light showed a superb mehari peacefullychewing his cud. 

"The little one is not stupid, " said Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, pointing tothe animal. "She knows enough to pick out the best and the strongest. But she is rattle-brained. "

He held the torch nearer the camel. 

"She is rattle-brained, " he continued. "She only saddled him. Nowater, no food. At this hour, three days from now, all three of youwould have been dead on the road, and on what a road!"

Tanit-Zerga's teeth no longer chattered. She was looking at the Targawith a mixture of terror and hope. 

"Come here, Sidi Lieutenant, " said Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, "so that I canexplain to you. "

When I was beside him, he said:

"On each side there is a skin of water. Make that water last as longas possible, for you are going to cross a terrible country. It may bethat you will not find a well for three hundred miles. 

"There, " he went on, "in the saddle bags, are cans of preserved meat. Not many, for water is much more precious. Here also is a carbine, your carbine, sidi. Try not to use it except to shoot antelopes. Andthere is this. "

He spread out a roll of paper. I saw his inscrutible face bent overit; his eyes were smiling; he looked at me. 

"Once out of the enclosures, what way did you plan to go?" he asked. 

"Toward Idelès, to retake the route where you met the Captain and me, "I said. 

Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh shook his head. 

"I thought as much, " he murmured. 

Then he added coldly:

"Before sunset to-morrow, you and the little one would have beencaught and massacred. "

"Toward the north is Ahaggar, " he continued, "and all Ahaggar is underthe control of Antinea. You must go south. "

"Then we shall go south. "

"By what route?"

"Why, by Silet and Timissao. "

The Targa again shook his head. 

"They will look for you on that road also, " he said. "It is a goodroad, the road with the wells. They know that you are familiar withit. The Tuareg would not fail to wait at the wells. "

"Well, then?"

"Well, " said Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, "you must not rejoin the road fromTimissao to Timbuctoo until you are four hundred miles from heretoward Iferouane, or better still, at the spring of Telemsi. That isthe boundary between the Tuareg of Ahaggar and the AwellimidenTuareg. "

The little voice of Tanit-Zerga broke in:

"It was the Awellimiden Tuareg who massacred my people and carried meinto slavery. I do not want to pass through the country of theAwellimiden. "

"Be still, miserable little fly, " said Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh. 

Then addressing me, he continued:

"I have said what I have said. The little one is not wrong. TheAwellimiden are a savage people. But they are afraid of the French. Many of them trade with the stations north of the Niger. On the otherhand, they are at war with the people of Ahaggar, who will not followyou into their country. What I have said, is said. You must rejointhe Timbuctoo road near where it enters the borders of theAwellimiden. Their country is wooded and rich in springs. If you reachthe springs at Telemsi, you will finish your journey beneath a canopyof blossoming mimosa. On the other hand, the road from here to Telemsiis shorter than by way of Timissao. It is quite straight. "

"Yes, it is direct, " I said, "but, in following it, you have to crossthe Tanezruft. "

Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh waved his hand impatiently. 

"Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh knows that, " he said. "He knows what the Tanezruftis. He who has traveled over all the Sahara knows that he wouldshudder at crossing the Tanezruft and the Tassili from the south. Heknows that the camels that wander into that country either die orbecome wild, for no one will risk his life to go look for them. It isthe terror that hangs over that region that may save you. For you haveto choose: you must run the risk of dying of thirst on the tracks ofthe Tanezruft or have your throat cut along some other route. 

"You can stay here, " he added. 

"My choice is made, Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, " I announced. 

"Good!" he replied, again opening out the roll of paper. "This trailbegins at the second barrier of earth, to which I will lead you. Itends at Iferouane. I have marked the wells, but do not trust to themtoo much, for many of them are dry. Be careful not to stray from theroute. If you lose it, it is death. .. . Now mount the camel with thelittle one. Two make less noise than four. "

We went a long way in silence. Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh walked ahead and hiscamel followed meekly. We crossed, first, a dark passage, then, a deepgorge, then another passage. .. . The entrance to each was hidden by athick tangle of rocks and briars. 

Suddenly a burning breath touched our faces. A dull reddish lightfiltered in through the end of the passage. The desert lay before us. 

Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh had stopped. 

"Get down, " he said. 

A spring gurgled out of the rock. The Targa went to it and filled acopper cup with the water. 

"Drink, " he said, holding it out to each of us in turn. We obeyed. 

"Drink again, " he ordered. "You will save just so much of the contentsof your water skins. Now try not to be thirsty before sunset. "

He looked over the saddle girths. 

"That's all right, " he murmured. "Now go. In two hours the dawn willbe here. You must be out of sight. "

I was filled with emotion at this last moment; I went to the Targa andtook his hand. 

"Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, " I asked in a low voice, "why are you doingthis?"

He stepped back and I saw his dark eyes gleam. 

"Why?" he said. 

"Yes, why?"

He replied with dignity:

"The Prophet permits every just man, once in his lifetime, to let pitytake the place of duty. Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh is turning this permissionto the advantage of one who saved his life. "

"And you are not afraid, " I asked, "that I will disclose the secret ofAntinea if I return among Frenchmen?" He shook his head. 

"I am not afraid of that, " he said, and his voice was full of irony. "It is not to your interest that Frenchmen should know how the Captainmet his death. "

I was horrified at this logical reply. 

"Perhaps I am doing wrong, " the Targa went on, "in not killing thelittle one. .. . But she loves you. She will not talk. Now go. Day iscoming. "

I tried to press the hand of this strange rescuer, but he again drewback. 

"Do not thank me. What I am doing, I do to acquire merit in the eyesof God. You may be sure that I shall never do it again neither for younor for anyone else. "

And, as I made a gesture to reassure him on that point, "Do notprotest, " he said in a tone the mockery of which still sounds in myears. "Do not protest. What I am doing is of value to me, but not toyou. "

I looked at him uncomprehendingly. 

"Not to you, Sidi Lieutenant, not to you, " his grave voice continued. "For you will come back; and when that day comes, do not count on thehelp of Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh. "

"I will come back?" I asked, shuddering. 

"You will come back, " the Targa replied. 

He was standing erect, a black statue against the wall of gray rock. 

"You will come back, " he repeated with emphasis. "You are fleeing now, but you are mistaken if you think that you will look at the world withthe same eyes as before. Henceforth, one idea, will follow youeverywhere you go; and in one year, five, perhaps ten years, you willpass again through the corridor through which you have just come. "

"Be still, Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, " said the trembling voice ofTanit-Zerga. 

"Be still yourself, miserable little fly, " said Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh. 

He sneered. 

"The little one is afraid because she knows that I tell the truth. Sheknows the story of Lieutenant Ghiberti. "

"Lieutenant Ghiberti?" I said, the sweat standing out on my forehead. 

"He was an Italian officer whom I met between Rhât and Rhadamès eightyears ago. He did not believe that love of Antinea could make himforget all else that life contained. He tried to escape, and hesucceeded. I do not know how, for I did not help him. He went back tohis country. But hear what happened: two years later, to the very day, when I was leaving the look-out, I discovered a miserable tatteredcreature, half dead from hunger and fatigue, searching in vain for theentrance to the northern barrier. It was Lieutenant Ghiberti, comeback. He fills niche Number 39 in the red marble hall. "

The Targa smiled slightly. 

"That is the story of Lieutenant Ghiberti which you wished to hear. But enough of this. Mount your camel. "

I obeyed without saying a word. Tanit-Zerga, seated behind me, puther little arms around me. Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh was still holding thebridle. 

"One word more, " he said, pointing to a black spot against the violetsky of the southern horizon. "You see the _gour_ there; that is yourway. It is eighteen miles from here. You should reach it by sunrise. Then consult your map. The next point is marked. If you do not strayfrom the line, you should be at the springs of Telemsi in eight days. "

The camel's neck was stretched toward the dark wind coming from thesouth. 

The Targa released the bridle with a sweep of his hand. 

"Now go. "

"Thank you, " I called to him, turning back in the saddle. "Thank you, Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, and farewell. "

I heard his voice replying in the distance:

"_Au revoir_, Lieutenant de Saint Avit. "

XIX

THE TANEZRUFT

During the first hour of our flight, the great mehari ofCeghéir-ben-Cheikh carried us at a mad pace. We covered at least fiveleagues. With fixed eyes, I guided the beast toward the _gour_ whichthe Targa had pointed out, its ridge becoming higher and higheragainst the paling sky. 

The speed caused a little breeze to whistle in our ears. Great tuftsof _retem_, like fleshless skeletons, were tossed to right and left. 

I heard the voice of Tanit-Zerga whispering:

"Stop the camel. "

At first I did not understand. 

"Stop him, " she repeated. 

Her hand pulled sharply at my right arm. 

I obeyed. The camel slackened his pace with very bad grace. 

"Listen, " she said. 

At first I heard nothing. Then a very slight noise, a dry rustlingbehind us. 

"Stop the camel, " Tanit-Zerga commanded. "It is not worth while tomake him kneel. "

A little gray creature bounded on the camel. The mehari set out againat his best speed. 

"Let him go, " said Tanit-Zerga. "Galé has jumped on. "

I felt a tuft of bristly hair under my arm. The mongoose had followedour footsteps and rejoined us. I heard the quick panting of the bravelittle creature becoming gradually slower and slower. 

"I am happy, " murmured Tanit-Zerga. 

Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh had not been mistaken. We reached the _gour_ as thesun rose. I looked back. The Atakor was nothing more than a monstrouschaos amid the night mists which trailed the dawn. It was no longerpossible to pick out from among the nameless peaks, the one on whichAntinea was still weaving her passionate plots. 

You know what the Tanezruft is, the "plain of plains, " abandoned, uninhabitable, the country of hunger and thirst. We were then startingon the part of the desert which Duveyrier calls the Tassili of thesouth, and which figures on the maps of the Minister of Public Worksunder this attractive title: "Rocky plateau, without water, withoutvegetation, inhospitable for man and beast. "

Nothing, unless parts of the Kalahari, is more frightful than thisrocky desert. Oh, Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh did not exaggerate in saying thatno one would dream of following us into that country. 

Great patches of oblivion still refused to clear away. Memories chasedeach other incoherently about my head. A sentence came back to metextually: "It seemed to Dick that he had never, since the beginningof original darkness, done anything at all save jolt through the air. "I gave a little laugh. "In the last few hours, " I thought, "I havebeen heaping up literary situations. A while ago, a hundred feet abovethe ground, I was Fabrice of _La Chartreuse de Parme_ beside hisItalian dungeon. Now, here on my camel, I am Dick of _The Light ThatFailed_, crossing the desert to meet his companions in arms. " Ichuckled again; then shuddered. I thought of the preceding night, ofthe Orestes of _Andromaque_ who agreed to sacrifice Pyrrhus. Aliterary situation indeed. .. . 

Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh had reckoned eight days to get to the woodedcountry of the Awellimiden, forerunners of the grassy steppes of theSoudan. He knew well the worth of his beast. Tanit-Zerga had suddenlygiven him a name, _El Mellen_, the white one, for the magnificentmehari had an almost spotless coat. Once he went two days withouteating, merely picking up here and there a branch of an acacia treewhose hideous white spines, four inches long, filled me with fear forour friend's oesophagus. The wells marked out by Ceghéir-ben-Cheikhwere indeed at the indicated spots, but we found nothing in them but aburning yellow mud. It was enough for the camel, enough so that at theend of the fifth day, thanks to prodigious self-control, we had usedup only one of our two water skins. Then we believed ourselves safe. 

Near one of these muddy puddles, I succeeded that day in shooting downa little straight-horned desert gazelle. Tanit-Zerga skinned the beastand we regaled ourselves with a delicious haunch. Meantime, littleGalé, who never ceased prying about the cracks in the rocks during ourmid-day halts in the heat, discovered an _ourane_, a sand crocodile, five feet long, and made short work of breaking his neck. She ate somuch she could not budge. It cost us a pint of water to help herdigestion. We gave it with good grace, for we were happy. Tanit-Zergadid not say so, but her joy at knowing that I was thinking no more ofthe woman in the gold diadem and the emeralds was apparent. Andreally, during those days, I hardly thought of her. I thought only ofthe torrid heat to be avoided, of the water skins which, if you wishedto drink fresh water, had to be left for an hour in a cleft in therocks; of the intense joy which seized you when you raised to yourlips a leather goblet brimming with that life-saving water. .. . I cansay this with authority, with good authority, indeed; passion, spiritual or physical, is a thing for those who have eaten and drunkand rested. 

It was five o'clock in the afternoon. The frightful heat wasslackening. We had left a kind of rocky crevice where we had had alittle nap. Seated on a huge rock, we were watching the reddeningwest. 

I spread out the roll of paper on which Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh had markedthe stages of our journey as far as the road from the Soudan. Irealized again with joy that his itinerary was exact and that I hadfollowed it scrupulously. 

"The evening of the day after to-morrow, " I said, "we shall be settingout on the stage which will take us, by the next dawn, to the watersat Telemsi. Once there, we shall not have to worry any more aboutwater. "

Tanit-Zerga's eyes danced in her thin face. 

"And Gâo?" she asked. 

"We will be only a week from the Niger. And Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh saidthat at Telemsi, one reached a road overhung with mimosa. "

"I know the mimosa, " she said. "They are the little yellow balls thatmelt in your hand. But I like the caper flowers better. You will comewith me to Gâo. My father, Sonni-Azkia, was killed, as I told you, bythe Awellimiden. But my people must have rebuilt the villages. Theyare used to that. You will see how you will be received. "

"I will go, Tanit-Zerga, I promise you. But you also, you must promiseme. .. . "

"What? Oh, I guess. You must take me for a little fool if you believeme capable of speaking of things which might make trouble for myfriend. "

She looked at me as she spoke. Privation and great fatigue hadchiselled the brown face where her great eyes shone. .. . Since then, Ihave had time to assemble the maps and compasses, and to fix foreverthe spot where, for the first time, I understood the beauty ofTanit-Zerga's eyes. 

There was a deep silence between us. It was she who broke it. 

"Night is coming. We must eat so as to leave as soon as possible. "

She stood up and went toward the rocks. 

Almost immediately, I heard her calling in an anguished voice thatsent a chill through me. 

"Come! Oh, come see!"

With a bound, I was at her side. 

"The camel, " she murmured. "The camel!"

I looked, and a deadly shudder seized me. 

Stretched out at full length, on the other side of the rocks, his paleflanks knotted up by convulsive spasms, _El Mellen_ lay in anguish. 

I need not say that we rushed to him in feverish haste. Of what _ElMellen_ was dying, I did not know, I never have known. All the meharaare that way. They are at once the most enduring and the most delicateof beasts. They will travel for six months across the most frightfuldeserts, with little food, without water, and seem only the better forit. Then, one day when nothing is the matter, they stretch out andgive you the slip with disconcerting ease. 

When Tanit-Zerga and I saw that there was nothing more to do, we stoodthere without a word, watching his slackening spasms. When he breathedhis last, we felt that our life, as well as his, had gone. 

It was Tanit-Zerga who spoke first. 

"How far are we from the Soudan road?" she asked. 

"We are a hundred and twenty miles from the springs of Telemsi, " Ireplied. "We could make thirty miles by going toward Iferouane; butthe wells are not marked on that route. "

"Then we must walk toward the springs of Telemsi, " she said. "Ahundred and twenty miles, that makes seven days?"

"Seven days at the least, Tanit-Zerga. "

"How far is it to the first well?"

"Thirty-five miles. "

The little girl's face contracted somewhat. But she braced up quickly. 

"We must set out at once. "

"Set out on foot, Tanit-Zerga!"

She stamped her foot. I marveled to see her so strong. 

"We must go, " she repeated. "We are going to eat and drink and makeGalé eat and drink, for we cannot carry all the tins, and the waterskin is so heavy that we should not get three miles if we tried tocarry it. We will put a little water in one of the tins after emptyingit through a little hole. That will be enough for to-night's stage, which will be eighteen miles without water. To-morrow we will set outfor another eighteen miles and we will reach the wells marked on thepaper by Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh. "

"Oh, " I murmured sadly, "if my shoulder were only not this way, Icould carry the water skin. "

"It is as it is, " said Tanit-Zerga. 

"You will take your carbine and two tins of meat. I shall take twomore and the one filled with water. Come. We must leave in an hour ifwe wish to cover the eighteen miles. You know that when the sun is up, the rocks are so hot we cannot walk. "

I leave you to imagine in what sad silence we passed that hour whichwe had begun so happily and confidently. Without the little girl, Ibelieve I should have seated myself upon a rock and waited. Galé onlywas happy. 

"We must not let her eat too much, " said Tanit-Zerga. "She would notbe able to follow us. And to-morrow she must work. If she catchesanother _ourane_, it will be for us. "

You have walked in the desert. You know how terrible the first hoursof the night are. When the moon comes up, huge and yellow, a sharpdust seems to rise in suffocating clouds. You move your jawsmechanically as if to crush the dust that finds its way into yourthroat like fire. Then usually a kind of lassitude, of drowsiness, follows. You walk without thinking. You forget where you are walking. You remember only when you stumble. Of course you stumble often. Butanyway it is bearable. "The night is ending, " you say, "and with itthe march. All in all, I am less tired than at the beginning. " Thenight ends, but then comes the most terrible hour of all. You areperishing of thirst and shaking with cold. All the fatigue comes backat once. The horrible breeze which precedes the dawn is no comfort. Quite the contrary. Every time you stumble, you say, "The next misstepwill be the last. "

That is what people feel and say even when they know that in a fewhours they will have a good rest with food and water. 

I was suffering terribly. Every step jolted my poor shoulder. At onetime, I wanted to stop, to sit down. Then I looked at Tanit-Zerga. Shewas walking ahead with her eyes almost closed. Her expression was anindefinable one of mingled suffering and determination. I closed myown eyes and went on. 

Such was the first stage. At dawn we stopped in a hollow in the rocks. Soon the heat forced us to rise to seek a deeper one. Tanit-Zerga didnot eat. Instead, she swallowed a little of her half can of water. Shelay drowsy all day. Galé ran about our rock giving plaintive littlecries. 

I am not going to tell you about the second march. It was morehorrible than anything you can imagine. I suffered all that it ishumanly possible to suffer in the desert. But already I began toobserve with infinite pity that my man's strength was outlasting thenervous force of my little companion. The poor child walked on withoutsaying a word, chewing feebly one corner of her _haik_ which she haddrawn over her face. Galé followed. 

The well toward which we were dragging ourselves was indicated onCeghéir-ben-Cheikh's paper by the one word _Tissaririn. Tissaririn_ isthe plural of _Tissarirt_ and means "two isolated trees. "

Day was dawning when finally I saw the two trees, two gum trees. Hardly a league separated us from them. I gave a cry of joy. 

"Courage, Tanit-Zerga, there is the well. "

She drew her veil aside and I saw the poor anguished little face. 

"So much the better, " she murmured, "because otherwise. .. . "

She could not even finish the sentence. 

We finished the last half mile almost at a run. We already saw thehole, the opening of the well. 

Finally we reached it. 

It was empty. 

It is a strange sensation to be dying of thirst. At first thesuffering is terrible. Then, gradually, it becomes less. You becomepartly unconscious. Ridiculous little things about your life occur toyou, fly about you like mosquitoes. I began to remember my historycomposition for the entrance examination of Saint-Cyr, "The Campaignof Marengo. " Obstinately I repeated to myself, "I have already saidthat the battery unmasked by Marmont at the moment of Kellerman'scharge included eighteen pieces. .. . No, I remember now, it was onlytwelve pieces. I am sure it was twelve pieces. "

I kept on repeating:

"Twelve pieces. "

Then I fell into a sort of coma. 

I was recalled from it by feeling a red-hot iron on my forehead. Iopened my eyes. Tanit-Zerga was bending over me. It was her hand whichburnt so. 

"Get up, " she said. "We must go on. "

"Go on, Tanit-Zerga! The desert is on fire. The sun is at the zenith. It is noon. "

"We must go on, " she repeated. 

Then I saw that she was delirious. 

She was standing erect. Her _haik_ had fallen to the ground and littleGalé, rolled up in a ball, was asleep on it. 

Bareheaded, indifferent to the frightful sunlight, she kept repeating:

"We must go on. "

A little sense came back to me. 

"Cover your head, Tanit-Zerga, cover your head. "

"Come, " she repeated. "Let's go. Gâo is over there, not far away. Ican feel it. I want to see Gâo again. "

I made her sit down beside me in the shadow of a rock. I realized thatall strength had left her. The wave of pity that swept over me, brought back my senses. 

"Gâo is just over there, isn't it?" she asked. 

Her gleaming eyes became imploring. 

"Yes, dear little girl. Gâo is there. But for God's sake lie down. Thesun is fearful. "

"Oh, Gâo, Gâo!" she repeated. "I know very well that I shall see Gâoagain. "

She sat up. Her fiery little hands gripped mine. 

"Listen. I must tell you so you can understand how I know I shall seeGâo again. "

"Tanit-Zerga, be quiet, my little girl, be quiet. "

"No, I must tell you. A long time ago, on the bank of the river wherethere is water, at Gâo, where my father was a prince, there was. .. . Well, one day, one feast day, there came from the interior of thecountry an old magician, dressed in skins and feathers, with a maskand a pointed head-dress, with castanets, and two serpents in a bag. On the village square, where all our people formed in a circle, hedanced the _boussadilla_. I was in the first row, and because I had anecklace of pink tourmaline, he quickly saw that I was the daughter ofa chief. So he spoke to me of the past, of the great Mandingue Empireover which my grandfathers had ruled, of our enemies, the fierceKountas, of everything, and finally he said:

"'Have no fear, little girl. '

"Then he said again, 'Do not be afraid. Evil days may be in store foryou, but what does that matter? For one day you will see Gâo gleamingon the horizon, no longer a servile Gâo reduced to the rank of alittle Negro town, but the splendid Gâo of other days, the greatcapital of the country of the blacks, Gâo reborn, with its mosque ofseven towers and fourteen cupolas of turquoise, with its houses withcool courts, its fountains, its watered gardens, all blooming withgreat red and white flowers. .. . That will be for you the hour ofdeliverance and of royalty. '"

Tanit-Zerga was standing up. All about us, on our heads, the sunblazed on the _hamada_, burning it white. 

Suddenly the child stretched out her arms. She gave a terrible cry. 

"Gâo! There is Gâo!"

I looked at her. 

"Gâo, " she repeated. "Oh, I know it well! There are the trees and thefountains, the cupolas and the towers, the palm trees, the great redand white flowers. Gâo. .. . "

Indeed, along the shimmering horizon rose a fantastic city with mightybuildings that towered, tier on tier, until they formed a rainbow. Wide-eyed, we stood and watched the terrible mirage quiver feverishlybefore us. 

"Gâo!" I cried. "Gâo!"

And almost immediately I uttered another cry, of sorrow and of horror. Tanit-Zerga's little hand relaxed in mine. I had just time to catchthe child in my arms and hear her murmur as in a whisper:

"And then that will be the day of deliverance. The day of deliveranceand of royalty. "

Several hours later I took the knife with which we had skinned thedesert gazelle and, in the sand at the foot of the rock whereTanit-Zerga had given up her spirit, I made a little hollow where shewas to rest. 

When everything was ready, I wanted to look once more at that dearlittle face. Courage failed me for a moment. .. . Then I quickly drewthe _haik_ over the brown face and laid the body of the child in thehollow. 

I had reckoned without Galé. 

The eyes of the mongoose had not left me during the whole time that Iwas about my sad duty. When she heard the first handfuls of sand fallon the _haik_, she gave a sharp cry. I looked at her and saw her readyto spring, her eyes daring fire. 

"Galé!" I implored; and I tried to stroke her. 

She bit my hand and then leapt into the grave and began to dig, throwing the sand furiously aside. 

I tried three times to chase her away. I felt that I should neverfinish my task and that, even if I did, Galé would stay there anddisinter the body. 

My carbine lay at my feet. A shot drew echoes from the immense emptydesert. A moment later, Galé also slept her last sleep, curled up, asI so often had seen her, against the neck of her mistress. 

When the surface showed nothing more than a little mound of trampledsand, I rose staggering and started off aimlessly into the desert, toward the south. 

XX

THE CIRCLE IS COMPLETE

At the foot of the valley of the Mia, at the place where the jackalhad cried the night Saint-Avit told me he had killed Morhange, anotherjackal, or perhaps the same one, howled again. 

Immediately I had a feeling that this night would see theirremediable fulfilled. 

We were seated that evening, as before, on the poor veranda improvisedoutside our dining-room. The floor was of plaster, the balustrade oftwisted branches; four posts supported a thatched roof. 

I have already said that from the veranda one could look far out overthe desert. As he finished speaking, Saint-Avit rose and stood leaninghis elbows on the railing. I followed him. 

"And then. .. . " I said. 

He looked at me. 

"And then what? Surely you know what all the newspapers told--how, inthe country of the Awellimiden, I was found dying of hunger and thirstby an expedition under the command of Captain Aymard, and taken toTimbuctoo. I was delirious for a month afterward. I have never knownwhat I may have said during those spells of burning fever. You may besure the officers of the Timbuctoo Club did not feel it incumbent uponthem to tell me. When I told them of my adventures, as they arerelated in the report of the Morhange--Saint-Avit Expedition, I couldsee well enough from the cold politeness with which they received myexplanations, that the official version which I gave them differed atcertain points from the fragments which had escaped me in my delirium. 

"They did not press the matter. It remains understood that CaptainMorhange died from a sunstroke and that I buried him on the border ofthe Tarhit watercourse, three marches from Timissao. Everybody candetect that there are things missing in my story. Doubtless they guessat some mysterious drama. But proofs are another matter. Because ofthe impossibility of collecting them, they prefer to smother whatcould only become a silly scandal. But now you know all the details aswell as I. "

"And--she?" I asked timidly. 

He smiled triumphantly. It was triumph at having led me to think nolonger of Morhange, or of his crime, the triumph of feeling that hehad succeeded in imbuing me with his own madness. 

"Yes, " he said. "She! For six years I have learned nothing more abouther. But I see her, I talk with her. I am thinking now how I shallreenter her presence. I shall throw myself at her feet and say simply, 'Forgive me. I rebelled against your law. I did not know. But now Iknow; and you see that, like Lieutenant Ghiberti, I have come back. '

"'Family, honor, country, ' said old Le Mesge, 'you will forget all forher. ' Old Le Mesge is a stupid man, but he speaks from experience. Heknows, he who has seen broken before Antinea the wills of the fiftyghosts in the red marble hall. 

"And now, will you, in your turn, ask me 'What is this woman?' Do Iknow myself? And besides, what difference does it make? What does herpast and the mystery of her origin matter to me; what does it matterwhether she is the true descendant of the god of the sea and thesublime Lagides or the bastard of a Polish drunkard and a harlot ofthe Marbeuf quarter?

"At the time when I was foolish enough to be jealous of Morhange, these questions might have made some difference to the ridiculousself-esteem that civilized people mix up with passion. But I have heldAntinea's body in my arms. I no longer wish to know any other, nor ifthe fields are in blossom, nor what will become of the humanspirit. .. . 

"I do not wish to know. Or, rather, it is because I have too exact avision of that future, that I pretend to destroy myself in the onlydestiny that is worth while: a nature unfathomed and virgin, amysterious love. 

"_A nature unfathomed and virgin_. I must explain myself. One winterday, in a large city all streaked with the soot that falls from blackchimneys of factories and of those horrible houses in the suburbs, Iattended a funeral. 

"We followed the hearse in the mud. The church was new, damp and poor. Aside from two or three people, relatives struck down by a dullsorrow, everyone had just one idea: to find some pretext to get away. Those who went as far as the cemetery were those who did not find anexcuse. I see the gray walls and the cypresses, those trees of sun andshade, so beautiful in the country of southern France against the lowpurple hills. I see the horrible undertaker's men in greasy jacketsand shiny top hats. I see. .. . No, I'll stop; it's too horrible. 

"Near the wall, in a remote plot, a grave had been dug in frightfulyellow pebbly clay. It was there that they left the dead man whosename I no longer remember. 

"While they were lowering the casket, I looked at my hands, thosehands which in that strangely lighted country had pressed the hands ofAntinea. A great pity for my body seized me, a great fear of whatthreatened it in these cities of mud. 'So, ' I said to myself, 'it maybe that this body, this dear body, will come to such an end! No, no, my body, precious above all other treasures, I swear to you that Iwill spare you that ignominy; you shall not rot under a registerednumber in the filth of a suburban cemetery. Your brothers in love, thefifty knights of orichalch, await you, mute and grave, in the redmarble hall. I shall take you back to them. '

"A _mysterious love_. Shame to him who retails the secrets of hisloves. The Sahara lays its impassable barrier about Antinea; that iswhy the most unreasonable requirements of this woman are, in reality, more modest and chaste than your marriage will be, with its vulgarpublic show, the bans, the invitations, the announcements telling anevil-minded and joking people that after such and such an hour, onsuch and such a day, you will have the right to violate your littletupenny virgin. 

"I think that is all I have to tell you. No, there is still one thingmore. I told you a while ago about the red marble hall. South ofCherchell, to the west of the Mazafran river, on a hill which in theearly morning, emerges from the mists of the Mitidja, there is amysterious stone pyramid. The natives call it, 'The Tomb of theChristian. ' That is where the body of Antinea's ancestress, thatCleopatra Selene, daughter of Mark Antony and Cleopatra, was laid torest. Though it is placed in the path of invasions, this tomb has keptits treasure. No one has ever been able to discover the painted roomwhere the beautiful body reposes in a glass casket. All that theancestress has been able to do, the descendant will be able to surpassin grim magnificence. In the center of the red marble hall, on therock whence comes the plaint of the gloomy fountain, a platform isreserved. It is there, on an orichalch throne, with the Egyptianhead-dress and the golden serpent on her brow and the trident ofNeptune in her hand, that the marvelous woman I have told you aboutwill be ensconced on that day when the hundred and twenty niches, hollowed out in a circle around her throne, shall each have receivedits willing prey. 

"When I left Ahaggar, you remember that it was niche number 55 thatwas to be mine. Since then, I have never stopped calculating and Iconclude that it is in number 80 or 85 that I shall repose. But anycalculations based upon so fragile a foundation as a woman's whim maybe erroneous. That is why I am getting more and more nervous. 'I musthurry, ' I tell myself. 'I must hurry. '

"I must hurry, " I repeated, as if I were in a dream. 

He raised his head with an indefinable expression of joy. His handtrembled with happiness when he shook mine. 

"You will see, " he repeated excitedly, "you will see. "

Ecstatically, he took me in his arms and held me there a long moment. 

An extraordinary happiness swept over both of us, while, alternatelylaughing and crying like children, we kept repeating:

"We must hurry. We must hurry. "

Suddenly there sprang up a slight breeze that made the tufts of thatchin the roof rustle. The sky, pale lilac, grew paler still, and, suddenly, a great yellow rent tore it in the east. Dawn broke over theempty desert. From within the stockade came dull noises, a bugle call, the rattle of chains. The post was waking up. 

For several seconds we stood there silent, our eyes fixed on thesouthern route by which one reaches Temassinin, Eguéré and Ahaggar. 

A rap on the dining-room door behind us made us start. 

"Come in, " said André de Saint-Avit in a voice which had becomesuddenly hard. 

The Quartermaster, Chatelain, stood before us. 

"What do you want of me at this hour?" Saint-Avit asked brusquely. 

The non-com stood at attention. 

"Excuse me, Captain. But a native was discovered near the post, lastnight, by the patrol. He was not trying to hide. As soon as he hadbeen brought here, he asked to be led before the commanding officer. It was midnight and I didn't want to disturb you. "

"Who is this native?"

"A Targa, Captain. "

"A Targa? Go get him. "

Chatelain stepped aside. Escorted by one of our native soldiers, theman stood behind him. 

They came out on the terrace. 

The new arrival, six feet tall, was indeed a Targa. The light of dawnfell upon his blue-black cotton robes. One could see his great darkeyes flashing. 

When he was opposite my companion, I saw a tremor, immediatelysuppressed, run through both men. 

They looked at each other for an instant in silence. 

Then, bowing, and in a very calm voice, the Targa spoke:

"Peace be with you, Lieutenant de Saint-Avit. "

In the same calm voice, André answered him:

"Peace be with you, Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh. "

[Transcriber's Notes:1. In the original books, there were handwritten characters for theGreek words used in the discussion of the Tifinar engravings; theapproximate Greek transliterations have been substituted. 2. Another inscription was hand-drawn in the book, and the centersymbol looks like a capital W, rotated 90 degrees counter-clockwise. Iplaced notes to that effect where the symbol appears. ]