piERiiK riPNorr 
 
 ^ 
 
 I
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 3 1822 01255 9753 
 
 fQ 

 
 ATLANTIDA 
 
 (UAtlantide) 
 
 BY 
 
 PIERRE BENOIT 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 MARY C. TONGUE 
 AND MARY ROSS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DUFFIELD AND COMPANY 
 
 1920
 
 Copyright, 1920. by 
 DUFFIELD AND COMPANY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 Preface 3 
 
 I A Southern Assignment 9 
 
 II Captain de Saint-Avit 26 
 
 III The Morhange-Saint-Avit Mission . . 43 
 
 IV Towards Latitude 25 54 
 
 V The Inscription 70 
 
 VI The Disaster of the Lettuce .... 84 
 
 VII The Country of Fear 98 
 
 VIII Awakening At Ahaggar 113 
 
 IX Atlantis 130 
 
 X The Red Marble Hall 146 
 
 XI Antinea 161 
 
 XII Morhange Disappears 176 
 
 XIII The Hetman of Jitomirs Story . . . 192 
 
 XIV Hours Of Waiting 212 
 
 XV The Lament Of Tanit-Zerga . . . .225 
 
 XVI The Silver Hammer 239 
 
 XVII The Maidens of the Rocks . . . .253 
 
 XVIII The Fire-Flies 266 
 
 XIX The Tanezruft 281 
 
 XX The Circle Is Complete 296
 
 ATLANTIDA
 
 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Hassi-Inifel, November 8, 1903. 
 
 If the following pages are ever to see the light 
 of day It will be because they have been stolen from 
 me. The delay that I exact before they shall be 
 disclosed assures me of that.^ 
 
 As to this disclosure, let no one distrust my aim 
 when I prepare for it, when I insist upon it. You 
 may believe me when I maintain that no pride of 
 authorship binds me to these pages. Already I am 
 too far removed from all such things. Only it is 
 useless that others should enter upon the path from 
 which I shall not return. 
 
 Four o'clock in the morning. Soon the sun will 
 kindle the hamada with its pink fire. All about me 
 the bordj is asleep. Through the half-open door of 
 
 ^ This letter, together with the manuscript which accom- 
 panies it, the latter in a separate sealed envelope, was en- 
 trusted by Lieutenant Ferrieres. of the 3rd Spahis. the day 
 of the departure of that officer for the Tassili of the Tuareg 
 (Central Sahara), to Sergeant Chatelain. The sergeant was 
 instructed to deliver it, on his next leave, to M. Leroux, 
 Honorary Counsel at the Court of Appeals at Riom, and 
 Lieutenant Ferrieres' nearest relative. As this magistrate 
 died suddenly before the expiration of the term of ten years 
 set for the 'publication of the manuscript here presented, 
 difficulties arose which have delayed its publication up to 
 the present date. 
 
 3
 
 4 ATLANTIDA 
 
 his room I hear Andre de Salnt-Avit breathing 
 quietly, very quietly. 
 
 In two days we shall start, he and I. We shall 
 leave the bordj. We shall penetrate far down there 
 to the South. The official orders came this morning. 
 
 Now, even if I wished to withdraw, it is too late. 
 Andre and I asked for this mission. The authoriza- 
 tion that I sought, together with him, has at this 
 moment become an order. The hierarchic channels 
 cleared, the pressure brought to bear at the Minis- 
 try; — 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 the Gurara, when I found two 
 of my sentinels slaughtered, with the shameful cross 
 cut of the Berbers slashed across their stomachs, — 
 then I was afraid. I know what fear Is. Just so 
 now, when I gazed into the black 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 within me 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 mir- 
 ages. The day will come, doubtless, when I shall 
 reread these pages with an indulgent smile, as a man 
 of fifty is accustomed to smile when he rereads old 
 letters. 
 
 Delirious dreams. Mad imaginings. But these
 
 INTRODUCTORY' LETTER 5 
 
 dreams, these imaginings, arc dear to me. "Cap- 
 tain de Saint-Avit and Lieutenant Ferrieres," reads 
 the official dispatch, "will proceed to Tassili to de- 
 termine the statigraphic relation of Albien sand- 
 stone and carboniferous limestone. They will, in 
 addition, profit by any opportunities of determining 
 the possible change of attitude of the Axdjers 
 towards our penetration, etc." If the journey should 
 indeed have to do only with such poor things I think 
 that I should never undertake it. 
 
 So I am longing for what I dread. I shall be 
 dejected if I do not find myself in the presence of 
 what makes me strangely fearful. 
 
 In the depths of the valley of WadI Mia a jackal 
 is barking. Now and again, when a beam of moon- 
 light breaks in a silver patch through the hollows 
 of the heat-swollen clouds, making him think he sees 
 the young sun, a turtle dove moans among the palm 
 trees. 
 
 I hear a step outside. I lean out of the window. A 
 shade clad in luminous black stuff glides over the 
 hard-packed earth of the terrace of the fortification. 
 A light shines in the electric blackness. A man has 
 just lighted a cigarette. He crouches, facing south- 
 wards. He is smoking. 
 
 It is Cegheir-ben-Cheikh, our Targa guide, the 
 man who in three days is to lead us across the un- 
 known plateaus of the mysterious Imoschaoch, across 
 the hamadas of black stones, the great dried oases.
 
 6 ATLANTIDA 
 
 the stretches of silver salt, the tawny hillocks, the 
 flat gold dunes that are crested over, when 
 the "alize" blows, with a shimmering haze of pale 
 sand. 
 
 Cegheir-ben-Chelkh ! He Is the man. There re- 
 curs to my mind Duveyrier's tragic phrase, "At the 
 very moment the Colonel was putting his foot In the 
 stirrup he was felled by a sabre blow."* Ceghelr- 
 ben-Cheikh ! There he is, peacefully smoking 
 his cigarette, a cigarette from the package that I gave 
 him. . . . May the Lord forgive me for 
 It. 
 
 The lamp casts a yellow light on the paper. 
 Strange fate, which, I never knew exactly why, de- 
 cided one day when I was a lad of sixteen that I 
 should prepare myself for Saint Cyr, and gave me 
 there Andre de Saint-Avit as classmate. I might 
 have studied law or medicine. Then I should be 
 today a respectable inhabitant of a town with a 
 church and running water, instead of this cotton- 
 clad phantom, brooding with an unspeakable anxiety 
 over this desert which is about to swallow me. 
 
 A great Insect has flown in through the window. 
 It buzzes, strikes against the rough cast, rebounds 
 against the globe of the lamp, and then, helpless. Its 
 wings singed by the still burning candle, drops on 
 the white paper. 
 
 '^H. Duveyrier, "The Disaster of the Flatters Mission." Bull. 
 Geol. Soc, 1881.
 
 INTRODUCTORY LETTER 7 
 
 It is an African May bug, big, black, with spots 
 of livid gray. 
 
 I think of the others, its brothers in France, the 
 golden-brown May bugs, which I have seen on stormy 
 summer evenings projecting themselves like little 
 particles of the soil of my native countryside. It 
 was there that as a child I spent my vacations, and 
 later on, my leaves. On my last leave, through 
 those same meadows, there wandered beside me a 
 slight form, wearing a thin scarf, because of the 
 evening air, so cool back there. But now this mem- 
 ory stirs me so slightly that I scarcely raise my eyes 
 to that dark corner of my room where the light is 
 dimly reflected by the glass of an indistinct portrait. 
 I realize of how little consequence has become what 
 had seemed at one time capable of filling all my life. 
 This plaintive mystery is of no more Interest to me. 
 If the strolling singers of Rolla came to murmur 
 their famous nostalgic airs under the window of 
 this bordj I know that I should not listen to them, 
 and if they became insistent I should send them on 
 their way. 
 
 What has been capable of causing this metamor- 
 phosis in me? A story, a legend, perhaps, told, at 
 any rate by one on whom rests the direst of suspic- 
 ions. 
 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh has finished his cigarette. I 
 hear him returning with slow steps to his mat, In 
 barrack B, to the left of the guard post
 
 8 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Our departure being scheduled for the tenth of 
 November, the manuscript attached to this letter 
 was begun on Sunday, the first, and finished on 
 Thursday, the fifth of November, 1903. 
 
 Olivier Ferrieres, 
 Lt. 3rd Spahis.
 
 CHAPTER T 
 
 A SOUTHERN ASSIGNMENT 
 
 Sunday, the sixth of June, 1903, broke the mo- 
 notony of the life that we were leading at the Post 
 of Hassi-Inifel by two events of unequal importance, 
 
 the arrival of a letter from Mile, de C , and the 
 
 latest numbers of the Official Journal of the French 
 Republic. 
 
 "I have the Lieutenant's permission?" said Ser- 
 geant Chatelain, beginning to glance through the 
 magazines he had just removed from their wrap- 
 pings. 
 
 I acquiesced with a nod, already completely ab- 
 sorbed in reading Mile, de C 's letter. 
 
 "When this reaches you," was the gist of this 
 charming being's letter, "mama and I will doubt- 
 less have left Paris for the country. If, in your 
 distant parts, it might be a consolation to imagine 
 me as bored here as you possibly can be, make the 
 most of it. The Grand Prix is over. I played the 
 horse you pointed out to me, and naturally, I lost. 
 Last night we dined with the Martials d« la Touche. 
 
 9
 
 lo ATLANTIDA 
 
 Elias Chatrlan was there, — always amazingly young. 
 I am sending you his last book, which has made 
 quite a sensation. It seems that the Martials de 
 la Touche are 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 hall hits. In 
 the political word, they say the law about congrega- 
 tions will meet with strenuous opposition. Nothing 
 much in the theatres. I have taken out a summer 
 subscription for I'lllustration. Would you care for 
 it? In the country no one knows what to do. Al- 
 ways the same lot of idiots ready for .tennis. 
 I shall deserve no credit for writing to you often. 
 Spare me your reflections concerning young Combe- 
 male. I am less than nothing of a feminist, having 
 too much faith in those who tell me that I am pretty, 
 in yourself in particular. But indeed, I grow wild 
 at the idea that if I permitted myself half the fa- 
 miliarities with one of our lads that you have surely 
 with your Ouled-Nails . . . Enough of that, It is 
 too unpleasant an idea." 
 
 I had reached this point In the prose of this ad- 
 vanced young woman when a scandalized exclama- 
 tion 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:
 
 A SOUTHERN ASSIGNMENT 1 1 
 
 "By a decision of the first of May, 1903, Captain 
 de Saint-Avit (Andre), unattached, is assigned to 
 the Third Spahis, and appointed Commandant of 
 the Post of Hassi-Inifel." 
 
 Chatelain's displeasure became fairly exuberant. 
 
 "Captain de Saint-Avit, Commandant of the Post. 
 A post which has never had 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 the evil, weasel-like face of Gourrut, 
 the convict we used as clerk. He had stopped his 
 scrawling and was listening with a sly interest. 
 
 "Sergeant, Captain de Saint-Avit is my ranking 
 classmate," I answered dryly. 
 
 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 the cartridges 
 ready. It is of the utmost importance to restock 
 the larder." 
 
 I went back to the office and motioned Gourrut 
 to go. Left alone, I finished Mile, de C 's let- 
 ter very quickly, and then reread the decision of the 
 Ministry giving the post a new chief. 
 
 It was now five months that I had enjoyed that 
 distinction, and on my word, I had accepted the re- 
 sponsibility well enough, and been very well pleased 
 with the independence. I can even affirm, without 
 taking too much credit for myself, that under my
 
 12 ATLANTIDA 
 
 command discipline had been better maintained than 
 under Captain DieuHvol, Saint-Avit's predecessor. 
 A brave man, this Captain DieuHvol, a non-commis- 
 sioned officer under Dodds and Duchesne, but sub- 
 ject to a terrible propensity for strong liquors, and 
 too much inclined, when he had drunk, to confuse 
 his dialects, and to talk to a Houassa in Sakalave. 
 No one was ever more sparing of the post vvater 
 supply. One morning when he was preparing his 
 absinthe in the presence of the Sergeant, Chatelain, 
 noticing the Captain's glass, saw with amazement 
 that the green liquor was blanched by a far stronger 
 admixture of water than usual. He looked up, 
 aware that something abnormal had just occurred. 
 Rigid, the carafe inverted in his hand. Captain Dieu- 
 livol was spilling the water which was running over 
 on the sugar. He was dead. 
 
 For six months, since the disappearance of this 
 sympathetic old tippler, the Powers had not seemed 
 to interest themselves In finding his successor. I 
 had even hoped at times that a decision might be 
 reached investing me with the rights that I was in 
 fact exercising. . . . And today this surprising ap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Captain de Saint-Avit. He was of my class at 
 St. Cyr. I had lost track of him. Then my atten- 
 tion had been attracted to him by his rapid advance- 
 ment, his decoration, the well-deserved recognition 
 of three particularly daring expeditions of explora-
 
 A SOUTHERN ASSIGNMENT 13 
 
 tion to Tebesti and the Air; and suddenly, the mys- 
 terious drama of his fourth expedition, that famous 
 mission undertaken with Captain Morhange, from 
 which only one of the explorers came back. Every- 
 thing is forgotten quickly in France. That was at 
 least six years ago. I had not heard Saint-Avit 
 mentioned since. I had even supposed that he had 
 left the army. And now, I was to have him as my 
 chief. 
 
 "After all, what's the difference," I mused, "he or 
 another I At school he was charming, and we have 
 had only the most pleasant relationships. Besides, 
 I haven't enough yearly income to afford the rank of 
 Captain." 
 
 And I left the office, whistling as I went. 
 
 We were now, Chatelain and I, our guns resting 
 on the already cooling earth, beside the pool that 
 forms the center of the meager oasis, hidden behind 
 a kind of hedge of alfa. The setting sun was red- 
 dening the stagnant ditches which irrigate the poor 
 garden plots of the sedentary blacks. 
 
 Not a word during the approach. Not a 
 word during the shoot. Chatelain was obviously 
 sulking. 
 
 In silence we knocked down, one after the other, 
 several of the miserable doves which came on drag- 
 ging wings, heavy with the heat of the day, to 
 quench their thirst at the thick green water. When
 
 14 ATLANTIDA 
 
 a half-dozen slaughtered little bodies were lined up 
 at our feet I put my hand on the Sergeant's shoulder. 
 
 "Chatelain!" 
 
 He trembled. 
 
 "Chatelain, I was rude to you a little while ago. 
 Don't be angry. It was the bad time before the 
 siesta. The bad time of midday." 
 
 "The Lieutenant is master here," he answered in 
 a tone that was meant to be gruff, but which was 
 only strained. 
 
 "Chatelain, don't be angry. You have something 
 to say to me. You know what I mean." 
 
 "I don't know really. No, I don't know." 
 
 "Chatelain, Chatelain, why not be sensible? Tell 
 me something about Captain 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 his head 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 brave man." 
 
 "He is a brave man, undoubtedly," I answered 
 with great restraint. "But he murdered his com- 
 panion, 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
 
 A SOUTHERN ASSIGNMENT 15 
 
 I am going to repeat what you say to your new 
 Captain?" 
 
 I had touched him to the quick. He drew him- 
 self up. 
 
 "Seigeant Chatelain is afraid of no one, Lieu- 
 tenant. He has been at Abomey, against the Ama- 
 zons, in a country where a black arm started out 
 from every bush to seize your leg, while another cut 
 it off for you 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, I give you my word of honor 
 that, for a month, I shall not speak to you except 
 on official business." 
 
 Hassi-Inifel : thirty native Arabs and four Euro- 
 peans — myself, the Sergeant, a Corporal, and Gour- 
 rut. The threat was terrible. It had its effect. 
 
 "All right, then, Lieutenant," he said w^ith a great 
 sigh. "But afterwards you must riot blame me for 
 having told you things about a superior which should 
 not be told and come only from the talk I overheard 
 at mess."
 
 i6 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "Tell away." 
 
 "It was in 1899. I was then Mess Sergeant at 
 Sfax, with the 4th Spahis. I had a good record, and 
 besides, as I did not drink, the Adjutant had as- 
 signed me to the officers' mess. It was a soft bert-h. 
 The marketing, the accounts, recording the library 
 books which were borrowed (there weren't many), 
 and the key of the wine cupboard, — for with that 
 you can't trust orderlies. The Colonel was young 
 and dined at mess. One evening he came in late, 
 looking perturbed, and, as soon as he was seated, 
 called for silence : 
 
 " 'Gentlemen,' he said, 'I have a communication 
 to make to you, and I shall 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, 'tomor- 
 row's menu is about to be considered.' For you 
 know the custom. Lieutenant, which has existed ever 
 since there have been any officers' clubs in Africa. 
 When an officer is passing by, his comrades go to 
 meet him at the boat and invite him to remain with 
 them for the length of his stay in port. He pays 
 his score in news from home. On such occasions 
 everything is of the best, even for a simple lieuten- 
 ant. At Sfax an officer on a visit meant — one extra 
 course, vintage wine and old liqueurs.
 
 A SOUTHERN ASSIGNMENT 17 
 
 "But this time I imagined from the looks the 
 officers exchanged that perhaps 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, and the promo- 
 tion he has had, his decoration if you will, permits 
 us to hope that they are without foundation. But 
 between not suspecting an officer of being a crimi- 
 nal, and receiving him at our table as a comrade, 
 there is a gulf that we are not obliged to 
 bridge. That is the matter on which I ask your 
 advice.* 
 
 "There was silence. The officers looked at each 
 other, all of them suddenly quite grave, even to the 
 merriest of the second lieutenants. In the corner, 
 where I realized that they had^ forgotten me, I tried 
 not to make the least sound that might recall my 
 presence. 
 
 " 'We thank you, Colonel,' one of the majors 
 finally replied, 'for your courtesy in consulting us. 
 All my comrades, I imagine, know to what terrible 
 rumors you refer. If I may venture to say so, in 
 Paris at the Army Geographical Service, where I 
 was before coming here, most of the officers of the 
 highest standing had an opinion on this unfortunate 
 matter which they avoided stating, but which cast no 
 glory upon Captain de Saint-Avit.' 
 
 " 'I was at Bammako, at the time of the Mor-
 
 i8 ATLANTIDA 
 
 ;hange-Saint-Avit mission,' said a Captain. 'The 
 opinion of the officers there, I am sorry to say, dif- 
 fered very little from what the Major describes. 
 But I must add that they all admitted that they 
 had nothing but suspicions to go on. And sus- 
 picions are certainly not enough considering the 
 atrocity of the affair.' 
 
 *' 'They are quite enough, gentlemen,' replied the 
 Colonel, 'to account for our hesitation. It Is not a 
 question of passing judgment; but no man can 
 sit at our table as a matter of right. It Is a privi- 
 lege based on fraternal esteem. The only question 
 Is whether It Is your decision to accord It to Saint- 
 Avlt' 
 
 "So saying, he looked at the officers, as If he were 
 taking a roll call. One after another they shook 
 their heads. 
 
 " 'I see that we agree,' he said. 'But our task Is 
 unfortunately not yet over. The City of Naples 
 will be In port tomorrow morning. The launch 
 which meets the, passengers leaves at eight o'clock. 
 It win be necessary, gentlemen, for one of you to 
 go aboard. Captain de Saint-Avit might be expect- 
 ing to come to us. We certainly have no intention 
 of Inflicting upon him the humiliation of refusing 
 him. If he presented himself In expectation of the 
 customary reception. He must be prevented from 
 coming. It will be wisest to make him understand 
 that it Is best for him to stay aboard.'
 
 A SOUTHERN ASSIGNMENT 19 
 
 '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 of mission, so I am compelled to ap- 
 point some one. Captain Grandjean, Captain de 
 Saint-Avit is also a Captain. It is fitting that it 
 be an officer of his own rank who carries him our 
 message. Besides, you are the latest comer here. 
 Therefore it is to you that I entrust this painful in- 
 terview. I do not need to suggest that you conduct 
 it as diplomatically as possible.' 
 
 "Captain Grandjean bowed, while a sigh of relief 
 escaped from all the others. As long as the Colonel 
 stayed in the room Grandjean remained apart, with- 
 out speaking. It was only after the chief had de- 
 parted that he let fall the words: 
 
 " 'There are some things that ought to count 
 a good deal for promotion.' 
 
 "The next day at luncheon everyone was impa- 
 tient for his return. 
 
 "'Well?' demanded the Colonel, briefly. 
 
 "Captain Grandjean did not reply immediately. 
 He sat down at the table where his comrades were 
 mixing their drinks, and he, a man notorious for 
 his sobriety, drank almost at a gulp, without 
 waiting for the sugar to melt, a full glass of 
 absinthe. 
 
 " 'Well, Captain?' repeated the Colonel.
 
 20 ATLANTIDA 
 
 " 'Well, Colonel, it's done. You can be at ease. 
 He will not set foot on shore. But, ye gods, what 
 an ordeal!' 
 
 "The officers did not dare speak. Only their looks 
 expressed their anxious curiosity. 
 
 "Captain Grandjean poured himself a swallow of 
 water. 
 
 " 'You see, I had gotten my speech all ready, in 
 the launch. But as I went up the ladder I knew 
 that I had forgotten it, Saint-Avit was in the 
 smoking-room, with the Captain of the boat. It 
 seemed to me that I could never find the strength 
 to tell him, when I saw him all ready to go ashore. 
 He was in full dress uniform, his sabre lay on the 
 bench and he was wearing spurs. No one wears 
 spurs on shipboard. I presented myself and we 
 exchanged several remarks, but I must have seemed 
 somewhat strained for from the first moment I 
 knew that he sensed something. Under some pre- 
 text he left the Captain, and led me aft near the 
 great rudder wheel. There, I dared speak. Colo- 
 nel, what did I say? How I must have stammered! 
 He did not look at me. Leaning his elbows on 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 at me coolly and said: 
 
 " ' "I must thank you, my dear fellow, for having 
 given yourself so much trouble. But it is quite ur^ 
 necessary. I am out of sorts and have no inten-
 
 A SOUTIIERxN ASSIGNMENT 21 
 
 tlon of going ashore. At least, I have the pleasure 
 of having made your acquaintance. Since I cannot 
 profit by your hospitality, you must do me the favor 
 of accepting mine as long as the launch stays by the 
 vessel." 
 
 " 'Then we went back, to the smoking-room. He 
 himself mixed the cocktails. He talked to me. We 
 discovered that we had mutual acquaintances. Never 
 shall I forget that face, that Ironic and distant look, 
 that sad and melodious voice. Ah ! Colonel, gen- 
 tlemen, I don't know what they may say at the Geo- 
 graphic Office, or In the posts of the 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, af- 
 ter a silence. "I have never seen a sadder meal than 
 that one. The officers hurried through lunch with- 
 out a word being spoken. In an atmosphere of de- 
 pression against which no one tried to struggle. 
 And In this complete silence, you could see them 
 always furtively watching the City of Naples, where 
 she was dancing merrily in the breeze, a league 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 of smoke escaping 
 from the red and black smokestack had announced 
 the departure of the vessel for Gabes, that con-
 
 22 ATLANTIDA 
 
 versatlon was resumed; and even then, less gaily 
 than usual. 
 
 "After that, Lieutenant, at the Officers' Club at 
 Sfax, they avoided like the plague any subject which 
 risked leading the conversation back to Captain de 
 Salnt-Avlt." 
 
 Chatelain had spoken almost in a whisper, and 
 the little people of the desert had not heard this 
 singular history. It was an hour since we had fired 
 our last cartridge. Around the pool the turtle doves, 
 once more reassured, were bathing their feathers. 
 Mysterious great birds were flying under the dark- 
 ening palm trees. A less warm wind rocked the 
 trembling black palm branches. We had laid aside 
 our helmets so that 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 me reproachfully, as if regret- 
 ting that he had spoken. Yet during all the time 
 that our return trip lasted, I could not find the 
 strength to break our desolate silence with a single 
 word. 
 
 The night had almost fallen when we arrived. 
 The flag which surmounted the post was still visible, 
 drooping on Its standard, but already its colors were 
 indistinguishable. To the west the sun had disap-
 
 A SOUTHERN ASSIGNMENT 23 
 
 peared behind the dunes gashed against the black 
 violet of the sky. 
 
 When we had crossed the gate of the fortifica- 
 tions, Chatelain left me. 
 
 "I am going to the stables," he said. 
 
 I returned alone to that part of the fort where 
 the billets for the Europeans and the stores of am- 
 munition were located. An inexpressible sadness 
 weighed upon me. 
 
 I thought of my comrades in French garrisons. 
 At this hour they must be returning home to find 
 awaiting them, spread out upon the bed, their dress 
 uniform, their braided tunic, their sparkling epaul- 
 ettes. 
 
 "Tomorrow," I said to myself, "I shall request a 
 change of station." 
 
 The stairway of hard-packed earth was already 
 black. But a few gleams of light still seemed 
 palely prowling in the office when I entered. 
 
 A man was sitting at my desk, bending over the 
 files of orders. His back was toward me. He did 
 not hear me enter. 
 
 "Really, Gourrut, my lad, I beg you not to 
 disturb yourself. Make yourself completely at 
 home." 
 
 The man had risen, and I saw him to be quite 
 tall, slender and very pale. 
 
 "Lieutenant Ferrieres, is it not?" 
 
 He advanced, holding out his hand.
 
 24 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "Captain de Saint-Avit. Delighted, my dear fel- 
 low." 
 
 At the same time Chatelain appeared on the 
 threshold. 
 
 "Sergeant," said the newcomer, "I cannot con- 
 gratulate you on the little I have seen. There is not 
 a camel saddle which is not in want of buckles, and 
 they are rusty enough to suggest that it rains at 
 Hassi-Inifel three hundred days in the year. Fur- 
 thermore, where were you this afternoon? Among 
 the four Frenchmen who compose the post, I found 
 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 Chatelain remained frozen at attention, "I 
 must tell you that the Sergeant was with me, that it 
 is I who am responsible for his absence from the 
 post, that he is an irreproachable non-commissioned 
 officer from every point 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 negligences which attach to 
 your office. He is not obliged to know that the 
 officer who abandons a post like Hassi-Inifel, if it 
 is only for two hours, risks not finding much left on 
 his return. The Chaamba brigands, my dear sir, 
 love firearms, and for the sake of the sixty muskets
 
 A SOUTHERN ASSIGNMENT 25 
 
 In your racks, I am sure they would not scruple 
 to make an officer, whose otherwise excellent record 
 Is well known to me, account for his absence to a 
 court-martial. Come with me. If you please. We 
 will finish the little inspection I began too rapidly a 
 little while ago." 
 
 He was already on the stairs. I followed in his 
 footsteps. Chatelain closed the order of march. I 
 heard him murmuring, in a tone which you can 
 imagine : 
 
 "Well, we are in for it now !"
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 CAPTAIN DE SAINT-AVIT 
 
 A FEW days sufficed to convince us that Chate- 
 lain's fears as to our official relations with the new 
 chief were vain. Often I have thought that by the 
 severity he showed at our first encounter Saint-Avit 
 wished to create a formal barrier, to show us that 
 he knew how to keep his head high in spite of the 
 weight of his heavy past. Certain it is that the 
 day after his arrival, he showed himself in a very 
 different light, even complimenting the Sergeant on 
 the upkeep of the post and the 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 have to ask you to dispense with 
 formalities, it is your right." 
 
 Vain marks of confidence, alas ! False witnesses 
 to a freedom of spirit, one in face of the other. 
 What more accessible in appearance than the im- 
 mense Sahara, open to all those who are willing to 
 be engulfed by it? Yet what is more secret? 
 After six months of companionship, of communion 
 
 26
 
 CAPTAIN DE SATNT-AVIT 27 
 
 of life such as only a Post in the South offers, T ask 
 myself if the most extraordinary of my adventures 
 is not to be leaving to-morrow, toward unsounded 
 solitudes, with a man whose real thoughts are as 
 unknown to me as these same solitudes, for which 
 he has succeeded in making me long. 
 
 The first surprise which was given me by this 
 singular companion was occasioned by the baggage 
 that followed him. 
 
 On his inopportune arrival, alone, from Wargla, 
 he had trusted to the Mehari he rode only what 
 can be carried without harm by such a delicate beast, 
 — his arms, sabre and revolver, a heavy carbine, and 
 a very reduced pack. The rest did not arrive till 
 fifteen days later, with the convoy which supplied the 
 post. 
 
 Three cases of respectable dimensions were car- 
 ried one after another to the Captain's room, and 
 the grimaces of the porters said enough as to their 
 weight. 
 
 I discreetly left Saint-Avit to his unpacking and 
 began opening the mail which the convoy had sent 
 me. 
 
 He returned to the office a little later and glanced 
 at the several reviews which I had just received. 
 
 "So," he said. "You take these." 
 
 He skimmed through, as he spoke, the last num- 
 ber of the ZeUschrift der Gesellschaft fur Erdkunde 
 in Berlin.
 
 28 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "Yes," I answered. "These gentlemen are kind 
 enough to interest themselves in my works on the 
 geology of the Wadi Mia and the high Igharghar." 
 
 "That may be useful to me," he murmured, con- 
 tinuing to turn over the leaves. 
 
 "It's at your service." 
 
 "Thanks. I am afraid I have nothing to offer 
 you in exchange, except Pliny, perhaps. And still — 
 you know what he said of Igharghar, according to 
 King Juba. However, come help me put my traps 
 in place and you will see if anything appeals to you." 
 
 I accepted without further urging. 
 
 We commenced by unearthing various meteoro- 
 logical and astronomical instruments — the thermom- 
 eters of Baudin, Salleron, Fastre, an aneroid, a For- 
 tin barometer, chronometers, a sextant, an astro- 
 nomical spyglass, a compass glass. ... In short, 
 what Duveyrier calls the material that is simplest 
 and easiest to transDort on a camel. 
 
 As Saint-Avit handed them to me I arranged 
 them on the only table in the room. 
 
 "Now," he announced to me, "there is nothing 
 more but books. I will pass them to you. Pile them 
 up in a corner until I can have a book-shelf made." 
 
 For two hours altogether I helped him to heap 
 up a real library. And what a library! Such as 
 never before a post in the South had seen. All the 
 texts consecrated, under whatever titles, by antiquity 
 to the regions of the Sahara were reunited between
 
 CAPTAIN DE SAINT-AVIT 29 
 
 the four rough-cast walls of that little room of the 
 bordj. Herodotus and Pliny, naturally, and like- 
 wise Strabo and Ptolemy, Pomponius Mela, and 
 Ammien Marcellin. But besides these names which 
 reassured my ignorance a little, I perceived those of 
 Corlppus, of Paul Orose, of Eratosthenes, of Pho- 
 tius, of Diodorus of Sicily, of Solon, of Dion Cas- 
 sius, of Isidor of Seville, of Martin de Tyre, of 
 Ethicus, of Athenee, the Scriptores Histor'iae Au- 
 gustae, the Itinerarium Ayitonini August'i, the Geo- 
 graphi Latini Minores of Riese, the Geographi 
 Graeci Minores of Karl Muller. . . . Since I have 
 had the occasion to familiarize myself with Aga- 
 tarchides of Cos and Artemidorus of Ephesus, 
 but I admit that in this instance the presence of their 
 dissertations in the saddle bags of a captain of cav- 
 alry caused me some amazement. 
 
 I mention further the Descrittione dell' Africa by 
 Leon I'African, the Arabian Histories of Ibn-Khal- 
 doun, of Al-Taqoub, of El-Bekri, of Ibn-Batoutah, of 
 Mahommed El-Tounsi. ... In the midst of this 
 Babel. I remember the names of onlv two volumes 
 of contemporary French scholars. There were also 
 the laborious theses of Berlioux ^ and of Schirmer.' 
 
 1 Doctrina Ptolemaei ab injuria recentiorum vindicata. sive 
 Nilus Superior et Niger verus, hodiernus Eghiren, ab antiqub 
 explorati. Paris, 8vo, 1874, with two maps. (Note by M. 
 Leroux.) 
 
 2 De nomine et genere popularum qui berberi vulgo dicuntur. 
 Paris, 8vo, 1892. (Note by M. Leroux.)
 
 30 ATLANTIDA 
 
 While I proceeded to make piles of as similar 
 dimensions as possible I kept saying to myself: 
 
 "To think that I have been believing all this time 
 that in his mission with Morhange, Saint-Avit was 
 particularly concerned in scientific observations. 
 Either my memory deceives me strangely or he is 
 riding a horse of another color. What is sure is 
 that there is nothing for me in the midst of all this 
 chaos." 
 
 He must have read on my face the signs of too 
 apparently expressed surprise, for he said in a tone 
 in which I divined a tinge of defiance : 
 
 "The choice of these books surprises you a bit?" 
 
 "I can't say it surprises me," I replied, "since I 
 don't know the nature of the work for which you 
 have collected them. In any case I dare say, with- 
 out fear of being contradicted, that never before has 
 officer of the Arabian Office possessed a library in 
 which the humanities 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 volu- 
 minous notebook secured by a strong lock. Several 
 times I surprised him in the act of making notations 
 in it. When for any reason he was called out of 
 the room he placed this album carefully in a small 
 cabinet of white wood, provided by the munificence 
 of the Administration. When he was not writing
 
 CAPTAIN DE SAINT-AVIT 31 
 
 and the office did not require his presence, he had 
 the mehari which he had brought with him saddled, 
 and a few minutes later, from the terrace of the for- 
 tifications, I could see the double silhouette disap- 
 pearing with great strides behind a hummock of red 
 earth on the horizon. 
 
 Each time these trips lasted longer. From each 
 he returned in a kind of exaltation which made me 
 watch him with daily increasing disquietude during 
 meal hours, the only time we passed quite alone to- 
 gether. 
 
 "Well," I said to myself one day when his re- 
 marks had been more lacking in sequence than usual, 
 "it's no fun being aboard a submarine when the 
 captain takes opium. What drug can this fellow be 
 taking, anyway?" 
 
 Next day I looked hurriedly through my com- 
 rade's drawers. This inspection, which I believed 
 to be my duty, reassured me momentarily. "All very 
 good," I thought, "provided he does not carry with 
 him his capsules and his Pravaz syringe." 
 
 I was still in that stage where I could suppose 
 that Andre's imagination needed artificial stimulants. 
 
 Meticulous observation undeceived me. There 
 was nothing suspicious in this respect. Moreover, 
 he rarely drank and almost never smoked. 
 
 And nevertheless, there was no means of denying 
 the increase of his disquieting feverishness. He re- 
 turned from his expeditions each time with his eves
 
 32 ATLANTIDA 
 
 more brilliant. He was paler, more animated, more 
 irritable. 
 
 One evening he left the post about six o'clock, at 
 the end of the greatest heat of the day. We waited 
 for him all night. My anxiety was all the stronger 
 because quite recently caravans had brought tidings 
 of bands of robbers in the neighborhood of the post. 
 
 At dawn he had not returned. He did not come 
 before midday. His camel collapsed under him, 
 rather than knelt. 
 
 He realized that he must excuse himself, but he 
 waited till we were alone at lunch. 
 
 "I am so sorry to have caused you any anxiety. 
 But the dunes were so beautiful under the moon! 
 I let myself be carried farther and farther. . . ." 
 
 *'I have no reproaches to make, dear fellow, you 
 are free, and the chief here. Only allow me to re- 
 call to you certain warnings concerning the Chaamba 
 brigands, and the misfortunes that might arise 
 from a Commandant of a post absenting himself 
 too long." 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 "I don't dislike such evidence of a good mem- 
 ory," 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 moon rose. And then, I recog- 
 nized the country. It is just where, twenty years 
 ago next November, Flatters followed the way to
 
 CAPTAIN DE SAINT- A V IT 33 
 
 his destiny in an exaltation which the certainty of 
 not returning made keener and more intense." 
 
 "Strange state of mind for a chief of an expe- 
 dition," I murmured. 
 
 "Say nothing against Flatters. \o man ever loved 
 the desert as he did . . . even to dying of it." 
 
 "Palat and Douls, among many others, have loved 
 it as much," I answered. "But they were alone 
 when they exposed themselves to it. Responsible 
 only for their own lives, they were free. Flatters, 
 on the other hand, was responsible for sixty lives. 
 And you cannot deny that he allowed his whole party 
 to be massacred." 
 
 The words were hardly out of my lips before I 
 regretted them. I thought of Chatelain's story, of 
 the officers' club at Sfax, where they avoided like 
 the plague any kind of conv^ersatlon which might lead 
 their thoughts toward a certain Morhange-Saint-Avit 
 mission. 
 
 Happily I observed that my companion was not 
 listening. His brilliant eyes were far away. 
 
 "What was your first garrison?" he asked sud- 
 denly. 
 
 "Auxonne." 
 
 He gave an unnatural laugh. 
 "Auxonne. Province of the Cote d'Or. District 
 of Dijon. Six thousand inhabitants. P. L. M. Rail- 
 way. Drill school and review. The Colonel's wife 
 receives Thursdays, and the Major's on Saturdays.
 
 34 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Leaves every Sunday, — 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. I arrived there one morning In 
 October, a second lieutenant, aged twenty, of the 
 First African Batallion, the white chevron on my 
 black sleeve. . . . Sun stripe, as the bagnards say 
 in speaking of their grades. Boghar! Two days 
 before, from the bridge of the steamer, I had begun 
 to see the shores of Africa. I pity all those who, 
 when they see those pale cliffs for the first time, do 
 not feel a great leap at their hearts, at the thought 
 that this land prolongs itself thousands and thou- 
 sands of leagues. ... I was little more than a 
 child, I had plenty of money. I was ahead of sched- 
 ule. I could have stopped three or four days at Al- 
 giers to amuse myself. Instead I took the train that 
 same evening for Berroughia. 
 
 "There, scarcely a hundred kilometers from Al- 
 giers, the railway stopped. Going in a straight line 
 you wont find another until you get to 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 of the outlying 
 desert. 
 
 "About midnight, at the Camp of the Zouaves, a 
 humble post on the road embankment, overlooking
 
 CAPTAIN DE SAINT-AVIT 35 
 
 a dry valley whence rose the feverish perfume of 
 oleander, we changed horses. They had there a 
 troop of convicts and impressed laborers, under es- 
 cort of riflemen and convoys to the quarries in the 
 South. In part, rogues in uniform, from the jails 
 of Algiers and Douara, — without arms, of course; 
 the others civilians, — such civilians! this year's re- 
 cruits, the young bullies of the Chapelle and the 
 Goutte-d'Or. 
 
 "They left before we did. Then the diligence 
 caught up with them. From a distance I saw in a 
 pool of moonlight on the yellow road the black, ir- 
 regular mass of the convoy. Then I heard a weary 
 dirge; the wretches were singing. One, in a sad and 
 gutteral voice, gave the couplet, which trailed dis- 
 mally through the depths of the blue ravines: 
 
 " 'Maintenant qii'elle est grande, 
 Elle fait le trot loir, 
 Avec ceiix de la hande 
 
 A Richard-Lenoir.' 
 
 "And the others took up in chorus the horrible 
 refrain : 
 
 (4 t 
 
 A la Bastille, a la Bastille, 
 On ainie bien, on aime bien 
 
 Nini Peaii d'Chien; 
 Elle est si belle et si gentille 
 
 A la Bastille'
 
 36 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "I saw them all In contrast to myself when the 
 diligence passed them. They were terrible. Under 
 the hideous searchlight their eyes shone with a som- 
 bre fire In their pale and shaven faces. The burning 
 dust strangled their raucous voices In their throats. 
 A frightful sadness took possession of me. 
 
 "When the diligence had left this fearful night- 
 mare behind, I regained my self-control. 
 
 " 'Further, much further South,' I exclaimed to 
 myself, 'to the places untouched by this miserable 
 bilgewater of civilization.' 
 
 "When I am weary, when I have a moment of 
 anguish and longing to turn back on the road that I 
 have chosen, I think of the prisoners of Berroughia, 
 and then I am glad to continue on my way. 
 
 "But what a reward, when I am In one of those 
 places where the poor animals never think of fleeing 
 because they have never seen man, where the desert 
 stretches out around me so widely that the old world 
 could crumble, and never a single ripple on the dune, 
 a single cloud In the white sky come to warn me. 
 
 " 'It I? ^rue,' I murmured. 'I, too, once. In the 
 middle of the desert, at TIdl-Kelt, I felt that way.' " 
 Up to that time I had let him enjoy his exalta- 
 tions without Interruption. I understood too late 
 the error that I had made In pronouncing that un- 
 fortunate sentence. 
 
 His mocking nervous laughter began anew. 
 "Ah! indeed, at TIdl-Kelt? I beg you, old man,
 
 CAPTAIN DE SAINT-AVIT 37 
 
 In your own interest, if you don't want to make an 
 ass of yourself, avoid that species of reminiscence. 
 Honestly, you make me think of Fromentin, or that 
 poor Maupassant, who talked of the desert because 
 he had been to Djelfa, two days' journey from the 
 street of Bab-Azound and the Government buildings, 
 four days from the Avenue de I'Opera; — and who, 
 because he saw a poor devil of a camel dying near 
 Bou-Saada, believed himself in the heart of the des- 
 ert, on the old route of the caravans. . . . Tidi- 
 Kelt, the desert!" 
 
 "It seems to me, however, that In-Saleh " I 
 
 said, a little vexed. 
 
 "In-Saleh? Tidi-Kelt! But, my poor friend, the 
 last time that I passed that way there were as many 
 old newspapers and empty sardine boxes as if it had 
 been Sunday In the Wood of Vincennes." 
 
 Such a determined, such an evident desire to an- 
 noy me made me forget my 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 Tarhlt, do you mean?" 
 
 It was on the east bank of Wadi Tarhit. a hun-
 
 38 ATLANTIDA 
 
 dred and twenty kilometers from TImlssao, at 25.5 
 degrees north latitude, according to the official re- 
 port, that Captain Morhange was buried. 
 
 "Andre," I cried stupidly, "I swear to you " 
 
 "What do you swear to me?" 
 
 "7"hat I never meant " 
 
 "To speak of Wadi Tarhit? Why? Why should 
 you not speak to me of Wadi Tarhit?" 
 
 In answer to my supplicating silence, he merely 
 shrugged his shoulders, 
 
 "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 the proof of it the next day, 
 and the way he showed his humor was even marked 
 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 nervous crises he always began sorting them 
 over, in the hope of finding some pretext for mak- 
 ing himself militarily insupportable. 
 
 This time chance had favored him.. 
 
 He opened the register. I blushed violently at 
 seeing the poor proof of a photograph that I knew 
 well. 
 
 "What is that?" he repeated disdainfully.
 
 CAPTAIN DE SAINT-AVrr 39 
 
 Too often I had surprised him in the act of re- 
 garding, none too kindly, the portrait of Mile, de 
 C. which hung in my room not to be convinced at 
 that moment that he was trying to pick a quarrel 
 with me. 
 
 I controlled myself, however, and placed the poor 
 little print in the drawer. 
 
 But my calmness did not pacify him. 
 
 "Henceforth," he said, "take care, I beg you, not 
 to mix mementoes of your gallantry with the official 
 papers." 
 
 He added, with a smile that spoke insult: 
 
 "It isn't necessary to furnish objects of excitation 
 to Gourrut." 
 "Andre," 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 to speak of Wadi Haifa, 
 haven't I? Then I have the right, I should 
 think " 
 
 "Andre!" 
 
 Now he was looking maliciously at the wall, at 
 the little portrait the replica of which I had just sub- 
 jected to this painful scene. 
 
 "There, there, I say, you aren't angry, are you? 
 But between ourselves you will admit, will you not, 
 that she is a little thin?" 
 
 And before I could find time to answer him, he
 
 40 ATLANTIDA 
 
 had remov'ed himself, humming the shameful re- 
 frain of the previous night: 
 
 "A la Bastille, a la Bastille, 
 
 On aime hien, on aime hien, 
 
 Nini, Peau de Chien." 
 
 For three days neither of us spoke to the other. 
 My exasperation was too deep for words. Was I, 
 then, to be held responsible for his avatars ! Was 
 it my fault if, between two phrases, one seemed al- 
 ways some allusion 
 
 "The situation is intolerable," I said to myself. 
 "It cannot last longer." 
 
 It was to cease very soon. 
 
 One week after the scene of the photograph the 
 courier arrived. I had scarcely glanced at the in- 
 dex of the Zeitschrift, the German review of which 
 I have already spoken, when I started with uncon- 
 trollable amazement. I had just read: "Reise iind 
 Entdeckungen zwei franzosischer offiziere, Ritt- 
 meisters Alorhange und Oberleutnants de Saint- 
 Avit, in west lichen 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
 
 CAPTAIN UK SAINT-AVIT 41 
 
 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 was gay, very gay, and his gaiety 
 hurt me. 
 
 When we had finished dinner, we went out and 
 leaned on the balustrade of the terrace. From there 
 out swept the desert, which the darkness was already 
 encroaching upon from the east. 
 
 Andre broke the silence. 
 
 "By the way, I have returned your review to you. 
 You were right, It is not interesting." 
 
 His expression was one of supreme amusement. 
 
 "What is It, what Is the matter with you, any- 
 way?" 
 
 "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 supplica- 
 tion. 
 
 "Idiot," he found it necessary to repeat once more. 
 
 Night fell quickly. Only the southern slope of 
 Wadi Mia was still yellow. Among the boulders a 
 little jackal was running about, yapping sharply, 
 
 "The dib is making a fuss about nothing, bad 
 business," said Salnt-Avlt.
 
 42 ATLANTIDA 
 
 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, heav^y, 
 
 heavy You don't feel like yourself, you don't 
 
 know any more " 
 
 "Yes," said the voice of Salnt-Avit, as from a 
 distance, "A heavy, heavy night: as heavy, do you 
 know, as when I killed Captain Morhange."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE MORHANGE-SAINT-AVIT MISSION 
 
 "So I killed Captain Morhange," Andre de Saint- 
 Avit said to me the next day, at the same time, in 
 the same place, with a calm that took no account ot 
 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 the desert, perhaps. Are you a man 
 capable of enduring the weight of that confidence, 
 and further, if necessary, of assuming the conse- 
 quences it may bring? I don't know that, either. 
 The future will decide. For the present 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, you understand that I am not going to 
 torture my brain to turn it into a romance for you, 
 or commence by recounting in the naturalistic man- 
 ner of what stuff my first trousers were made, or, 
 as the neo-Catholics would have it, how often I 
 went as a child to confession, and how much T liked 
 doing it. I have no taste for useless exhibitions. 
 
 43
 
 44 ATLANTIDA 
 
 You will find that this recital begins strictly at the 
 time when I met Morhange. 
 
 And first of all, I tell you, however much it has 
 cost my peace of mind 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 
 black ingratitude in having killed him. It is to him, 
 it is to his knowledge of rock Inscriptions, that I 
 owe the only thing that has raised my life in Interest 
 above the miserable little lives dragged out by my 
 companions at Auxonne, and elsewhere. 
 
 This being understood, here are the facts: 
 It was in the Arabian Office at Wargla, when I 
 was a lieutenant, that I first heard the name, Mor- 
 hange. And I must add that it was for me the occa- 
 sion of an attack of bad humor. We were having 
 difficult times. The hostility of the Sultan of Mo- 
 rocco was latent. At Touat, where the assassination 
 of Flatters and of Frescaly had already been con- 
 cocted, connivance was being given to the plots of 
 our enemies. Touat was the center of conspiracies, 
 of razzias, of defections, and at the same time, the 
 depot of supply for the insatiable nomads. The 
 Governors of Algeria, Tirman, Cambon, Laferrlere, 
 demanded its occupation. The Ministers of War 
 tacitly agreed. . . . But there was Parliament, 
 which did nothing at all, because of England, be- 
 cause of Germany, and above all because of a cer- 
 tain Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the
 
 THE MORHAiNGE-SAINT-AVIT MISSION 45 
 
 Citizen, which prescribed that insurrection is the 
 most sacred of duties, even when the Insurgents are 
 savages who cut your head off. In short, the mili- 
 tary authority could only, at its own discretion, in- 
 crease the southern garrisons, and establish new- 
 posts; this one, Berresof, Hassi-el-Mia, Fort Mac- 
 Mahon, Fort Lallemand, Fort Miribel. . . . But 
 as Castries puts it, you don't hold the nomads with 
 bordjs, you hold them by the belt. The middle was 
 the oasis of Touat. Their honors, the lawyers of 
 Paris, had to be convinced of the necessity of taking 
 possession of the oasis of Touat. The best way 
 would be to present them with a faithful pic- 
 ture of the plots that were being woven there 
 against us. 
 
 The principal authors were, and still are, the 
 Senoussis, whose able chief has been forced by our 
 arms to transfer the seat of his confederation sev- 
 eral thousand leagues from there, to Schimmedrou, 
 in the Tibestl. They had, I say they through mod- 
 esty, the Idea of ascertaining the traces left by these 
 agitators on their favorite places of concourse; Rhat, 
 Temasslnin, the plain of Adejamor, and In-Salah. 
 It was, you sec, at least after leaving Temasslnin, 
 practically the same Itinerary as that followed In 
 I 864 by General Rohlfs. 
 
 I had already attracted some attention by two ex- 
 cursions, one to Agadcs, and the other to Bllma, and 
 was considered by the staff officers to be one of the
 
 46 ATLANTIDA 
 
 best informed on the Senoussis question. I was 
 therefore selected to assume this new task. 
 
 I then suggested that it would be of interest to 
 kill two birds with one stone, and to get, in passing, 
 an idea of the northern Ahoggar, so as to make 
 sure whether the Tuaregs of Ahitarhen had con- 
 tinued to have as cordial relations with the Senoussis 
 as they had had when they combined to massacre 
 the Flatters' mission. I was immediately accorded 
 the permission. The change in my first plan was as 
 follows: After reaching Ighelaschem, six hundred 
 kilometers south of Temassinin, instead of taking the 
 direct road to Touat via Rhat, I would, penetrating 
 between the high land of Mouydir and Ahaggar, 
 strike off to the southwest as far as Shikh-Salah. 
 There I would turn again northwards, towards In- 
 Salah, by the road to the Soudan and Agades. In 
 all hardly eight kilometers additional in a trip of 
 about seven hundred leagues, with the certainty of 
 making as complete an examination as possible of 
 the roads which our enemies, the Senoussis of Tibesti 
 and the Tuareg of the Ahoggar, must follow to ar- 
 rive at Touat. On the way, for every explorer has 
 his pet fancy, I was not at all displeased to think 
 that I would have a chance to examine the geological 
 formation of the plateau of Egere, about which 
 Duveyrier and the others are so disappointingly 
 indefinite. 
 
 Evei7thing was ready for my departure from
 
 THE MORMANGE-SAINT-AVIT MISSION 47 
 
 Wargla. Everything:, which is to say, very little. 
 Three mehara: mine, my companion Bou-Djcma's 
 (a faithful Chaamba, whom I had had with me in 
 my wanderings through the Air, less of a guide in 
 the country I was familiar with than a machine for 
 saddling and unsaddling camels), then a third to 
 carry provisions and skins of drinking water, very 
 little, since I had taken pains to locate the stops 
 with reference to the wells. 
 
 Some people go equipped for this kind of expe- 
 dition with a hundred regulars, and even cannon. T 
 am for the tradition of Douls and Rene Callie, I go 
 alone. 
 
 I was at that perfect moment when only one thin 
 thread still held me to the civilized world when an 
 official cable arrived at Wargla. 
 
 "Lieutenant de Saint-Avit," it said briefly, "will 
 delay his departure until the arrival of Captain Mor- 
 hange, who will accompany him on his expedition 
 of exploration." 
 
 I was more than disappointed. I alone had had 
 the Idea of this expedition. I had had all the difll- 
 culty that you can Imagine to make the authorities 
 agree to it. And now when I was rejoicing at the 
 idea of the long hours I would spend alone with 
 myself in the heart of the desert, they sent me a 
 stranger, and, to make matters worse, a superior. 
 
 The condolences of my comrades aggravated my 
 bad humor.
 
 4S A T L A N T I D A 
 
 The Yearly Report, consulted on the spot, had 
 given them the following information : 
 
 "Morhange (Jean-Marie-Fran^ois), class of 
 1 88 1. Breveted. Captain, unassigned. (Topo- 
 graphical Service of the Army.)" 
 
 "There is the explanation for you," said one. 
 "They are sending one of their creatures to pull 
 the chestnuts out of the fire, after you have had all 
 the trouble of making it. Breveted! That's a great 
 way. The theories of Ardant du Picq or else noth- 
 ing about here." 
 
 "I don't altogether agree with you," said the 
 Major. "They knew in Parliament, for some one 
 is always indiscreet, the real aim of Saint-Avit's mis- 
 sion: to force their hand for the occupation of 
 Touat. And this Morhange must be a man serving 
 the interests of the Army Commission. All these 
 people, secretaries, members of Parliament, govern- 
 ors, keep a close watch on each other. Some one 
 will write an amusing paradoxical history some day, 
 of the French Colonial Expansion, which is made 
 without the knowledge of the powers In office, 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, along the roads 
 to the south. An amiable prospect when one has 
 none too much time to foil all the tricks of the na- 
 tives. When does he arrive?"
 
 THE MORHANGE-SAINT-AVir MISSK )N 49 
 
 "Day after tomorrow, probably. I ha\c news of 
 a convoy coming from Ghardaia. It is likely that 
 he will avail himself of it. The indications are 
 that he doesn't know very much about traveling 
 alone. 
 
 Captain Morhange did arrive in fact two days 
 later by means of the convoy from Ghardaia. I 
 was the iirst person for whom he asked. 
 
 When he came to my room, whither I had with- 
 drawn in dignity as soon as the convoy was sighted, 
 I was disagreeably surprised to foresee that I would 
 have great difficulty in preserving my prejudice 
 against him. 
 
 He was tall, his face full and ruddy, with laugh- 
 ing blue eyes, a small black moustache, and hair that 
 was already white. 
 
 "I have a thousand apologies to make to you, my 
 dear fellow," he said immediately, with a frankness 
 that I have never seen in any other man. "You must 
 be furious with my importunity in upsetting your 
 plans and delaying your departure." 
 
 "By no means. Captain," I replied coolly. 
 
 "You really have only yourself to blame. It is 
 on account of your knowledge of the southern routes, 
 so highly esteemed at Paris, that I wished to have 
 you to initiate me when the Ministries of Instruction 
 and of Commerce, and the Geographical Society 
 combined to charge me with the mission which brings 
 me here. These three honorable institutions ha\'c
 
 50 ATLANTIDA 
 
 in fact entrusted me with the attempt to re-establish 
 the ancient track of the caravans, which, from the 
 ninth century, traffiicked between Tunis and the Sou- 
 dan, by Toweur, Wargla, Es-Souk and the bend of 
 the Bourroum; and to study the possibility of 
 restoring this route to its ancient splendor. At 
 the same time, at the Geographic Bureau, I heard 
 of the journey that you are undertaking. From 
 Wargla to Shikh-Salah our two itineraries are the 
 same. Only I must admit to you that it is the first 
 voyage of this kind that I have ever undertaken. I 
 would not be afraid to hold forth for an hour on 
 Arabian literature in the amphitheatre of the School 
 of Oriental Languages, but I know well enough 
 that in the desert I should have to ask for directions 
 whether to turn right or left. This is the only 
 chance which could give me such an opportunity, 
 and at the same time put me under obligation for 
 this introduction to so charming a companion. You 
 must not blame me if I seized it, if I used all my 
 influence to retard your departure from Wargla 
 until the instant when I could join you. I have only 
 one more word to add to what I have said. I am 
 entrusted with a mission which by its origin is ren- 
 dered essentially civilian. You are sent out by the 
 Ministry of War. Up to the moment when, ar- 
 rived at Shikh-Salah we turn our backs on each 
 other to attain, you Touat, and I the Niger, all your 
 recommendations, all your orders, will be followed
 
 THE MORHANGE-SAINT-AVIT iMISSION 51 
 
 by a subaltern, and, I hope, by a friend as well." 
 
 All the time he was talking so openly I felt de- 
 lightedly my worst recent fears melting away. 
 Nevertheless, I still experienced a mean desire to 
 show him some marks of reserve, for having thus 
 disposed of my company at a distance, without con- 
 sulting me. 
 
 "I am very grateful to you, Captain, for your 
 extremely flattering words. When do you wish to 
 leave Wargla?" 
 
 He made a gesture of complete detachment. 
 
 "Whenever you like. Tomorrow, this evening. 
 I have already delayed you. Your preparations must 
 have already been made for some time." 
 
 My little maneuver had turned against myself. T 
 had not been counting on 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, some papers. My brave camel had no 
 difficulty in bringing it along. For the rest I de- 
 pend on your advice, and the resources of Owar- 
 gla." 
 
 I was well caught. I had nothing further to say. 
 And moreover, such freedom of spirit and manner 
 had already captivated me. 
 
 "It seems," said my comrades, when the time for 
 aperitives had brought us all together again, "that
 
 52 A T L A N T I D A 
 
 this Captain of yours is a remarkably charming fel- 
 low." 
 
 "Remarkably." 
 
 "You surely can't have any trouble with him. It 
 is only up to you to see 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 moment I harbored no further 
 grudge against Morhange. Yet my silence per- 
 suaded him that I was unforgiving. And everyone, 
 do you hear me, everyone said later on, when sus- 
 picions became rife: 
 
 "He is surely guilty. We saw them go off to- 
 gether. We can affirm it." 
 
 I am guilty. . . . But for a low motive of jeal- 
 ousy. . . . How sickening. . . . 
 
 After that, there was nothing to do but to flee, 
 flee, as far as the places where there are no more 
 men who think and reason. 
 
 Morhange appeared, his arm resting on the 
 Major's, who was beaming over this new acquain- 
 tanceship. 
 
 He presented him enthusiastically: 
 
 "Captain Morhange, gentlemen. An officer of 
 the old school, and a man after our own hearts, I 
 give you my word. He wants to leave tomorrow, 
 but we must give him such a reception that he will
 
 THE MORHANGE-SAINT-AVIT MISSION ;^ 
 
 forget that idea before two days arc up. Come. 
 Captain, you have at least eight days to give us." 
 
 "I am at the disposition of Lieutenant de Saint- 
 Avit," replied Morhange, with a quiet smile. 
 
 The conversation became general. The sound of 
 glasses and laughter rang out. I heard my comrades 
 In ecstasies over the stories that the newcomer 
 poured out with never-failing humor. And I, never, 
 never have I felt so sad. 
 
 The time came to pass Into the dining-room. 
 
 "At my right, Captain," cried the Major, 
 more and more beaming. "And I hope you will 
 keep on giving us these new lines on Paris. We are 
 not up with the times here, you know." 
 
 "Yours to command. Major," said Morhange. 
 
 "Be seated, gentlemen." 
 
 The officers obeyed, with a joyous clatter of mov- 
 ing chairs. I had not taken 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 the life of the party, In a low voice, 
 with his eyes closed. Captain Morhange recited the 
 Benedlclte.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 TOWAKDS LATITUDE 25 
 
 "You see," said Captain Morhange to me fifteen 
 days later, "you are much better informed about 
 the ancient routes through the Sahara than you have 
 been willing to let me suppose, since you know of the 
 existence of the two Tadekkas. But the one of 
 which you have just spoken is the Tadekka of Ibn- 
 Batoutah, located by this historian seventy days 
 from Touat, and placed by Schirmer, very plausibly, 
 in the unexplored territo;*y of the Aouelimmiden. 
 This is the Tadekka by which the Sonrahi caravans 
 passed every year, travelling by Egypt. 
 
 "My Tadekka is different, the capital of the 
 veiled people, placed by Ibn-Khaldoun twenty days 
 south of Wargla, which he calls Tadmekka. It is 
 towards this Tadmekka that I am headed. I must 
 establish Tadmekka in the mains of Es-Souk. The 
 commercial trade route, which in the ninth century 
 bound the Tunisian Djerid to the bend the Niger 
 makes at Bourroum, passed by Es-Souk. It is to 
 study the possibility of reestablishing this ancient 
 
 54
 
 TOWARDS LA'nrUDi: 2 5 55 
 
 thoroughfare that the Ministries gave me this mis- 
 sion, which has given me the pleasure of your com- 
 panionship." 
 
 "You are probably in for a disappointment," I 
 said. "Everything indicates 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. The legs of our five 
 mehara cast on it their moving shadows of a darker 
 blue. For a moment the only inhabitant of these 
 solitudes, a bird, a kind of indeterminate heron, rose 
 and hung in the air, as if suspended from a 
 thread, only to sink back to rest as soon as we had 
 passed. 
 
 I led the way, selecting the route, Morhange fol- 
 lowed. Enveloped in a bernous, his head covered 
 with the straight chcchia of the Spahis, a great chap- 
 let of alternate red and white beads, ending in a 
 cross, around his neck, he realized perfectly the ideal 
 of Father Lavigerie's White Fathers. 
 
 After a two-days' halt at Temassinin we had just 
 left the road followed by Flatters, and taken an 
 oblique course to the south. I have the honor of 
 having antedated Fourcau in demonstrating the im- 
 portance of Temassinin as a geometrical point for 
 the passage of caravans, and of selecting the place 
 where Captain Pein has just now constructed a fort.
 
 56 ATLANTIDA 
 
 The junction for the roads that lead to Touat from 
 Fezzan and TibestI, Temasslnin Is the future seat of 
 a marvellous Intelligence Department. What I had 
 collected there In two days about the disposition of 
 our Senoussis enemies was of importance. I noticed 
 that Morhange let me proceed with my Inquiries with 
 complete Indifference. 
 
 These two days he had passed in conversation 
 with the old negro guardian of the turbet, which pre- 
 serves, under Its plaster dome, the remains of the 
 venerated SIdl-Moussa. The confidences they ex- 
 changed, I am sorry to say that I have forgotten. 
 But from the negro's amazed admiration, I realized 
 the- ignorance in which I stood to the mysteries of 
 the desert, and how familiar they were to my com- 
 panion. 
 
 And if you want to get any idea of the extraordi- 
 nary originality which Morhange Introduced into 
 such surroundings, you who, after all, have a certain 
 familiarity with the tropics, listen to this. It was 
 exactly two hundred kilometers from here, in the 
 vicinity of the Great Dune, In that horrible stretch 
 of six days without water. We had just enough for 
 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 you can clean them 
 out and succeed in watering beasts and men." By 
 chance we met a caravan there, which was going 
 east towards Rhadames, and had com.e too far north.
 
 TOWARDS LATITUDK 25 57 
 
 The camels' humps, shrunken and shaking, bespoke 
 the sufferings of the troop. Behind came a little 
 gray ass, a pitiful burrow, Interf erring at every 
 step, and lightened of Its pack because the mer- 
 chants knew that It was going to die. Instinctively, 
 with Its last strength. It followed, knowing that when 
 It could stagger no longer, the end would come and 
 the flutter of the bald vultures' wings. I love ani- 
 mals, which I have solid reasons for preferring to 
 men. 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 own camels, 
 without which one is lost in the empty desert, had not 
 been watered for many hours. Morhange made his 
 kneel, uncocked a skin, and made the little ass drink, 
 I certainly felt gratification at seeing the poor bare 
 flanks of the miserable beast pant with satisfaction. 
 But the responsibility was mine. Also I had seen Bou- 
 Djema's aghast expression, and the disapproval of 
 the thirsty members of the caravan. I remarked on 
 it. How it was received! "What have I given," re- 
 plied Morhange, "was my own. We will reach El- 
 Blodh to-morrow evening, about six o'clock. Between 
 here and there I know that I shall not be thirsty." 
 And that in a tone, in which for the first time he 
 allowed the 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, and Bou- 
 Djema's, are at his service." But I did not yet know
 
 58 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Morhange very well, and it is true that until the 
 evening of the next day when we reached El-Biodh, 
 refusing our offers with smiling determination, he 
 drank nothing. 
 
 Shades of St. Francis of AssisI ! Umbrian hills, 
 so pure under the rising sun ! It was in the light of 
 a like sunrise, by the border of a pale stream leaping 
 in full cascades from a crescent-shaped niche of the 
 gray rocks of Egere, that Morhange stopped. The 
 unlooked for waters rolled upon the sand, and we 
 saw, in the light which mirrored them, little 
 black fish. Fish in the middle of the Sahara ! 
 All three of us were mute before this para- 
 dox of Nature. One of them had strayed into a 
 little channel of sand. He had to stay there, strug- 
 gling In vairt, his little white belly exposed to the 
 air. . . . Morhange picked him up, looked at him 
 for a moment, and put him back into the little 
 stream. Shades of St. Francis. Umbrian hills. . . . 
 But I have sworn not to break the thread of the 
 story by these untimely digressions. 
 
 "You see," Captain Morhange said to me a week 
 later, "that I was right In advising you to go farther 
 south before making for Shikh-Salah. Something 
 told me that this highland of Egere was not interest- 
 ing from your point of view. While here you have 
 only to stoop to pick up pebbles which will allow 
 you to establish the volcanic origin of this region
 
 TOWARDS LATITUDE 25 59 
 
 much more certainly than Bou-Derba, des Cloizeaux, 
 and Doctor Marres have done." 
 
 This was while we were following the western 
 pass of the Tidifest Mountains, about the 25th de- 
 gree 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 were collecting fragments of the 
 most characteristic rocks. Morhange employed him- 
 self with a discernment which spoke worlds for his 
 knowledge of geology, a science he had often pro- 
 fessed complete ignorance of. 
 
 Then I asked him the following question : 
 
 "May I prove my gratitude by making you a con- 
 fession?" 
 
 He raised his head and looked at me. 
 
 "Well then, I don't see the practical value of this 
 trip you have undertaken." 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 "Why not? To explore the old caravan route, 
 to demonstrate that a connection has existed from 
 the most ancient times between the Mediterranean 
 world, and the country of the Blacks, that seems 
 nothing in your eyes? The hope of settling once for 
 all the secular disputes which have divided so many 
 keen minds; d'Anville, Heeren, Berlioux, Quatre- 
 mere on the one hand, — on the other Gosselin, 
 Walckenaer, Tissit, Vivien, de saint-Martin; you
 
 6o ATLANTIDA 
 
 think that that is devoid of interest? A plague upon 
 you for being hard to please." 
 
 "I spoke of practical value," I said. "You won't 
 deny that this controversy is only the affair of cabi- 
 net geographers and office explorers." 
 
 Morhange kept on smiling. 
 
 "Dear friend, don't wither me. Deign to recall 
 that your mission was confided to you by the Min- 
 istry of War, while I hold mine on behalf of the 
 Ministry of Public Instruction. A different origin 
 justifies our different 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 Com- 
 merce," I replied, playing my next card. "By this 
 chief you are instructed to study the possibility of 
 restoring the old trade route of the ninth century. 
 But on this point don't attempt to mislead me ; with 
 your knowledge of the history and geography of the 
 Sahara, your mind must have been made up before 
 you left Paris. The road from Djerid to the Niger 
 is dead, stone dead. You knew that no important 
 traffic would pass by this route 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 con- 
 viction you say, what do you conclude from that?" 
 
 "I should prefer to have you tell me."
 
 TOWARDS LATITUDE 25 6i 
 
 *'Simply, my dear boy, that I had less skill than 
 you in finding the pretext for my voyage, that I fur- 
 nished less good reasons for the true motives that 
 brought me here." 
 
 "A pretext? I don't see . . ." 
 
 "Be sincere in your turn, if you please. I am sure 
 that you have the greatest desire to inform the 
 Arabian Office about the practices of the Senouissis. 
 But admit that the information that you will obtain 
 is not 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 to reconcile 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 than your pres- 
 ence here on this side of the Tidifest, a very curi- 
 ous place from a mineralogical point of view, but 
 some hundred and fifty kilometers south of your 
 official route." 
 
 It was not possible to have countered me with a 
 better grace. I parried by attacking. 
 
 "Am I to conclude from all this that I do not know 
 the real aims of your trip, and that they have noth- 
 ing to do with the official motives?" 
 
 I had gone a bit too far. I felt it from the seri- 
 ousness with which Morhange's reply was delivered. 
 
 "No, my dear friend, you must not conclude just 
 that. T should have no taste for a lie which was
 
 62 ATLANTIDA 
 
 based on fraud towards the estimable constitutional 
 bodies which have judged me worthy of their con- 
 fidence and their support. The ends that they have 
 assigned to me I shall do my best to attain. But 
 I have no reason for hiding from you that there is 
 another, quite personal, which is far nearer to my 
 heart. Let us say, 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 the desert should 
 have nothing hidden from you." 
 
 We had halted in the valley of a little dry well 
 where a few sickly plants were growing. A spring 
 near by was circled by a crown of gray verdure. 
 The camels had been unsaddled for the night, and 
 were seeking vainly, at every stride, to nibble the 
 spiny tufts of had. The black and polished sides of 
 the Tidifest Mountains rose, almost vertically, 
 above our heads. Already the blue smoke of the fire 
 on which Bou-Djema was cooking dinner rose 
 through the motionless air. 
 
 Not a sound, not a breath. The smoke mounted 
 straight, straight and slowly up the pale steps of the 
 firmament. 
 
 "Have you ever heard of the Atlas of Christi- 
 anity?" asked Morhange.
 
 TOWARDS LATirUDK 25 63 
 
 *'I think, so. Isn't it a geographical work pub- 
 lished by the Benedictines under the direction of a 
 certain Dom Granger?" 
 
 "Your memory is correct," said Morhange. 
 "Even so let me explain a little more fully some of 
 the things you have not had as much reason as I 
 to interest yourself in. The Atlas of Christianity 
 proposes to establish the boundaries of that great 
 tide of Christianity through all the ages, and for all 
 parts of the globe. An undertaking worthy of the 
 Benedictine learning, worthy of such a prodigy of 
 erudition as Dom Granger himself." 
 
 "And it is these boundaries that you have come to 
 determine here, no doubt," T murmured. 
 
 "Just so," replied my companion. 
 
 He was silent, and I respected his silence, pre- 
 pared by now to be astonished at nothing. 
 
 "It is not possible to give confidences by halves, 
 without being ridiculous," he continued after several 
 minutes of meditation, speaking gravely, in a voice 
 which held no suggestion of that flashing humor 
 which had a month before enchanted the young ofii- 
 cers at Wargla. "I have begim on mine. I will 
 tell you everything. Trust my discretion, however, 
 and do not insist upon certain events of my private 
 life. If, four years ago, at the close of these events, 
 I resolved to enter a monastery, it does not concern 
 you to know my reasons, I can marvel at it myself, 
 that the passage in my life of a being absolutely de-
 
 64 ATLANTIDA 
 
 void of interest should have sufficed to change the 
 current of that life. I can marvel that a creature 
 whose sole merit was her beauty should have been 
 permitted by the Creator to swing my destiny to such 
 an unforeseen direction. The monastery at whose 
 doors I knocked had the most valid reasons for 
 doubting the stability of my vocation. What the 
 world loses in such fashion it often calls back as 
 readily. In short, I cannot blame the Father Abbot 
 for having forbidden me to apply for my army dis- 
 charge. By his instructions, I asked for, and ob- 
 tained, permission to be placed on the inactive list 
 for three years. At the end of those three years 
 of consecration it would be sedn whether the world 
 was definitely dead to your servant. 
 
 "The first day of my arrival at the cloister I was 
 assigned to Dom Granger, and placed by him at 
 work on the Atlas of Christianity. A brief exami- 
 nation decided him as to what kind of service I was 
 best fitted to render. This is how I came to enter 
 the studio devoted to the 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 Faculte des Lettres, a course with Berlioux, — a 
 very erudite geographer no doubt, but obsessed by 
 one idea, the influence the Greek and Roman civili- 
 zations had exercised on Africa. This detail of my 
 life was enough for Dom Granger. He provided me 
 straightway with Berber vocabularies by Venture,
 
 TOWARDS L A T I T U D 1 ! 2 5 65 
 
 by Dclaporte, by Brossclard; with the Grammallcal 
 Sketch of the Temahaq by Stanley Flccman, and 
 the Essai de Grammaire dc la langiie Tcmachck 
 by Major Hanoteau. At the end of three months 
 I was able to decipher any inscriptions in Tifinar. 
 You know that Tifinar is the national writing of the 
 Tuareg, the expression of this Terachek language 
 which seems to us the most curious protest 
 of the Targui race against its Mohammedan 
 enemies. 
 
 "Dom Granger, in fact, believed that the Tuareg 
 are Christians, dating from a period which it was 
 necessary to ascertain, but which coincided no doubt 
 with the splendor of the church of Hippon. Even 
 better than I, you know that the cross is with them 
 the symbol of fate in decoration. Duveyrier has 
 claimed that it figures in their alphabet, on their 
 arms, among the designs of their clothes. The only 
 tattooing that they wear on the forehead, on the back 
 of the hand, is a cross with four equal branches; 
 the pummels of their saddles, the handles of their 
 sabres, of their poignards, are cross-shaped. And 
 is it necessary to remind you that, although Islam 
 forbids bells as a sign of Christianity, the harness 
 of Tuareg camels are trimmed with bells? 
 
 "Neither Dom Granger nor I attach an exagger- 
 ated importance to such proofs, which resemble too 
 much those which make such a display in the Gcmiis 
 of Christianity. But it is indeed impossible to refuse
 
 66 ATLANTIDA 
 
 all credence to certain theological arguments. Ama- 
 nai, the God of the Tuareg, unquestionably the 
 Adonai of the Bible, is unique. They have a hell, 
 'Timsi-tan-elekhaft,' the last fire, where reigns Iblis, 
 our Lucifer. Their Paradise, where they are re- 
 warded for good deeds, Is inhabited by 'andjelou- 
 sen,' our angels. And do not urge the resemblance 
 of this theology to the Koran, for I will meet you 
 with historic arguments and remind you that the 
 Tuareg have struggled all through the ages at the 
 cost of partial extermination, to maintain their faith 
 against the encroachments of Mohammedan fanati- 
 cism. 
 
 "Many times I have studied with Dom Granger 
 that formidable epoch when the aborigines opposed 
 the conquering Arabs. With him I have seen how 
 the army of SIdl-Okba, one of the companions of the 
 Prophet, invaded this desert to reduce the Tuareg 
 tribes and impose on them Musselman rules. These 
 tribes were then rich and prosperous. They were 
 the Ihbggaren, the Imededren, the Ouadelen, the 
 Kel-Gueress, the Kel-AIr. But internal quarrels 
 sapped their strength. Still, it was not until after a 
 long and cruel war that the Arabians succeeded in 
 getting possession of the capital of the Berbers, 
 which had proved such a redoubtable stronghold. 
 They destroyed it after they had massacred the in- 
 habitants. On the ruins Okba constructed a new 
 city. This city is Es-Souk. The one that Sidl-Okba
 
 TOWARDS LATITUDh: 25 67 
 
 destroyed was the Berber Tadmekka. What Dom 
 Granger asked of me was precisely that I should try 
 to exhume from the ruins of the Musselman Es-Souk 
 the ruins of Tadmekka, which was Berber, and per- 
 haps Christian, 
 
 "I understand," I murmured. 
 
 "So far, so good," said Morhange. "But what 
 you must grasp now is the practical sense of these re- 
 ligious men, my masters. You remember that, even 
 after three years of monastic life, they preserved 
 their doubts as to the stability of my vocation. They 
 found at the same time means of testing it once for 
 all, and of adapting official facilities to their particu- 
 lar purposes. One morning I was called before the 
 Father Abbot, and this is what he said to me, in the 
 presence of Dom Granger, who expressed silent ap- 
 proval. 
 
 " 'Your term of inactive service expires in fifteen 
 days. You will return to Paris, and apply at the 
 Ministry to be reinstated. With what you have 
 learned here, and the relationships we have been 
 able to maintain at Headquarters, you will have no 
 difficulty in being attached to the Geographical Staff 
 of the army. When you reach the rue de Grenelle 
 you will receive our instructions.' 
 
 "I was astonished at their confidence in my knowl- 
 edge. When T was reestablished as Captain again 
 in the Geographical Service I understood. At the 
 monastery, the daily association with Dom Granger
 
 68 ATLANTIDA 
 
 and his pupils had kept me constantly con- 
 vinced of the inferiority of my knowledge. When 
 I came in contact with my military brethren I real- 
 ized the superiority of the instruction I had received. 
 I did not have to concern myself with the details of 
 my mission. The Ministries invited me to under- 
 take it. My initiative asserted itself on only one oc- 
 casion. When I learned that you were going to 
 leave Wargla on the present expedition, having 
 reason to distrust my practical qualifications as an 
 explorer, I did my best to retard your departure, 
 so that I might join you. I hope that you have for- 
 given me by now." 
 
 The light in the west was fading, where the sun 
 had already sunk into a matfchless luxury of violet 
 draperies. We were alone in this immensity, at the 
 feet of the rigid black rocks. Nothing but ourselves. 
 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 
 thousand kilometers which separate me from the in- 
 stant when, my task accomplished, I shall at last 
 find oblivion in the cloister for the things for which 
 I was not made, let me tell you this; — the several 
 hundred kilometers which still separate us from 
 Shikh-Salah seem to me infinitely short to traverse 
 in your company."
 
 TOWARDS L A T I T U D F 2 5 69 
 
 On the pale water of the little pool, motionless and 
 fixed like a silver 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.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE INSCRIPTION 
 
 With a blow of the tip of his cane Morhange 
 knocked a fragment of rock from 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 admit that I am otherwise preoccu- 
 pied." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Look this way a bit," I said, showing towards 
 the west, on the horizon, a black spot across the 
 white plain. 
 
 It was six o'clock in the morning. The sun had 
 
 risen. But it could not be found in the surprisingly 
 
 polished air. And not a breath of air, not a breath. 
 
 Suddenly one of the camels called. An enormous 
 
 antelope had just come in sight, and had stopped In 
 
 its flight, terrified, facing the wall of rock. It stayed 
 
 there at a little distance from us, dazed, trembling 
 
 on its slender legs. 
 
 70
 
 THE INSCRIPTION 71 
 
 Bou-Djema had rejoined us. 
 
 "When the legs of the mohor tremble it is because 
 the firmament is shaken," he muttered. 
 
 "A storm?" 
 
 *'Yes, a storm." 
 
 "And you find that alarming?" 
 
 I did not answer immediately. T was exchanging 
 several brief words with Bou-Djema, who was oc- 
 cupied in soothing the camels which were giving 
 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. But I 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 few grains of sand had begun to whirl 
 round and round, with a speed which increased to 
 dizziness, giving us in advance the spectacle in minia- 
 ture of what would soon be breaking upon us. 
 
 With harsh cries a flock of wild geese appeared, 
 flying low. They came out of the west. 
 
 "They are fleeing towards the Sebkha d'Amang- 
 hor," 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
 
 72 ATLANTIDA 
 
 completely demoralized, and hurry to find shelter 
 in some high places. Take account of our situation. 
 It is easy to follow the bed of a stream. But with- 
 in a quarter of an hour perhaps the storm will 
 have burst. Within a half hour a perfect torrent 
 will be rushing here. On this soil, which is almost 
 impermeable, rain will roll like a pail of water 
 thrown on a bituminous pavement. No depth, all 
 height. Look at this." 
 
 And I showed him, a dozen meters high, long 
 hollow gouges, marks of former erosians on the 
 rocky wall. 
 
 "In an hour the waters will reach that height. 
 Those are the marks of the last Inundation. Let us 
 get started. There Is not an Instant to lose." 
 
 "All right," Morhange replied tranquilly. 
 
 We had the greatest difficulty to make the camels 
 kneel. When we had thrown ourselves Into the sad- 
 dle they started off at a pace which their terror ren- 
 dered more and more disorderly. 
 
 Of a sudden the wind began, a formidable wind, 
 and almost at the same time the light was eclipsed 
 In the ravine. Above our heads the sky had become, 
 in the flash of an eye, darker than the walls of the 
 canyon which we were descending at a breathless 
 pace. 
 
 "A path, a stairway in the wall," I screamed 
 against the wind to my companions. "If we don't 
 find one In a minute we are lost."
 
 THE I N S C R I P r I O N 73 
 
 They did not hear me, but, turning in my saddle, 
 I saw that they had lost no distance, Morhangc fol- 
 lowing me, and Bou-Djema in the rear driving 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 immediately great tepid drops 
 began to fall. In an instant, our burnouses, which 
 had 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. It was the almost perpendicular 
 bed of a stream, an affluent of the one we had had 
 the unfortunate idea of following that morning. Al- 
 ready a veritable torrent was gushing over It with 
 a fine uproar. 
 
 I have never better appreciated the Incomparable 
 surefootedness of camels in the most precipitate 
 places. Bracing themselves, stretching out their 
 great legs, balancing themselves among the rocks 
 that were beginning to be swept loose, our camels 
 accomplished at that moment what the mules of the 
 Pyrannees might have failed In. 
 
 After several moments of superhuman effort we 
 found ourselves at last out of danger, on a kind of 
 basaltic terrace, elevated some fifty meters above the 
 channel of the stream we had just left. Luck was
 
 74 ATLANTIDA 
 
 with us; a little grotto opened out behind. Bou- 
 Djema succeeded in sheltering the camels there. 
 From its threshold we had leisure to contemplate 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 Marne effervesces 
 like the inkwells at school, when we used to throw 
 a piece of calcium carbonate into them. Well, it was 
 almost like that, but in the midst of the desert, in 
 the midst of obscurity. The white waters rushed 
 into the depths of the black hole, and rose and rose 
 towards the pedestal on which we stood. And there 
 was the uninterrupted noise of thunder, and still 
 louder, the sound of whole walls of rock, under- » 
 mined by the flood, collapsing in a heap and dissolv- 
 ing in a few seconds of time lu the midst of the ris- 
 ing water. 
 
 All the time that this deluge lasted, one hour, per- 
 haps two, Morhange and I stayed bending over this 
 fantastic foaming vat; anxious to see, to see every- 
 thing, to see in spite of everything; rejoicing with a 
 kind of ineffable horror when we felt the shelf of 
 basalt on which we had taken refuge swaying be- 
 neath us from the battering impact of the water. I 
 believe that never for an instant did we think, so 
 beautiful it was, of wishing for the end of that gi- 
 gantic nightmare.
 
 THE I NSC RUCTION i^ 
 
 Finally a ray of the sun shone through. Only 
 then did we look at each other. 
 
 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 been pretentious and ridiculous. You 
 have saved us, thanks to your power of decision, 
 from this ver)' paradoxical end." 
 
 Ah, that he had been thrown by a misstep of his 
 camel and rolled to his death in the midst of the 
 flood! Then what followed would never have hap- 
 pened. That is the thought that comes to me in 
 hours of weakness. But I have told you that I pull 
 myself out of it quickly. No, no, I do not 
 regret It, 1 cannot regret It, that what happened did 
 happen. 
 
 Morhange left me to go into the little grotto, 
 where Bou-Djema's camels were now resting com- 
 fortably. I stayed alone, watching the torrent which 
 was continuously rising with the impetuous Inrush of 
 its unbridled tributaries. It had stopped raining. 
 TTie sun shone from a sky that had renewed its blue- 
 ness. I could feel the clothes that had a moment 
 before been drenching, drying upon me Incredibly 
 fast. 
 
 A hand was placed on my shoulder. Morhange 
 was again beside me.
 
 ^6 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "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 fairly light. 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, with some disappointment. "But I 
 thought I had told you that I read Tifinar writing 
 very badly. Are these writings more interesting 
 than the others we have come upon before?" 
 
 "Look at this one," said Morhange. There was 
 such an accent of triumph in his tone that this time I 
 concentrated my attention. 
 
 I looked again. 
 
 The characters of the inscription were arranged 
 in the form of a cross. It plays such an important 
 part in this adventure that I cannot forego retrac- 
 ing it for you. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 + 
 
 • • • • ^ —y"
 
 THE I iN S C K 1 P r I O N 77 
 
 It was designed with great regularity, and the 
 characters were cut deep into the rock. Although 
 T knew so little of rock inscriptions at that time I 
 had no difficulty In recognizing the antiquity of this 
 one, 
 
 Morhange became more and more radiant as he 
 regarded it. 
 
 I looked at him questloningly. 
 
 "Well, what have you to say now?" he asked. 
 
 "What do you want me to say? I tell you that 
 I can barely read TIfinar." 
 
 "Shall I help you?" he suggested. 
 
 This course in Berber writing, after the emotions 
 through which we had just passed, seemed to me a 
 little inopportune. But Morhange was so visibly 
 delighted that I could not dash his joy. 
 
 "Very well then," began my companion, as much 
 at his ease as If he had been before a blackboard, 
 "what will strike you first about this Inscription Is 
 its repetition in the form of a cross. That Is to say 
 that 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, ^ , comes natur- 
 ally In the middle. This arrangement which Is unique 
 in Tifinar writing. Is already remarkable enough. 
 But there is better still. Now we will read it." 
 
 Getting it wrong three times out of seven I finally 
 succeeded, with Morhange's help, in spelling the 
 word.
 
 78 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "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 satis- 
 faction was without bounds. 
 
 "You have said it. That is why the discovery is 
 unique." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "There is really nothing, either in Berber or in 
 Arabian, analogous to this 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 Tifinar alphabet. It has here been replaced 
 by the phonetic sign which is nearest to it, — h. Re- 
 store e to the place which belongs to it in the word, 
 and you have " 
 
 "Antinea." 
 
 " 'Antinea,' precisely. We find ourselves before a 
 Greek vocable reproduced in Tifinar. And I think 
 that now you will agree with me that my find has a 
 certain interest." 
 
 That day we had no more conferences upon
 
 Tin: INSCRIPTION 79 
 
 texts. A loud cry, anguished, terrifying, rung out. 
 
 We rushed out to find a strange spectacle await- 
 ing us. 
 
 Although the sky had cleared again, the torrent of 
 yellow water was still foaming and no one could pre- 
 dict when it would fall. In mid-stream, struggling 
 desperately in the current, was an extraordinary 
 mass, gray and soft and swaying. 
 
 But what at the first glance overwhelmed us with 
 astonishment was to see Bou-Djema, usually so calm, 
 at this moment apparently beside himself with 
 frenzy, bounding through the gullies and over 
 the rocks of the ledge, in full pursuit of the ship- 
 wreck. 
 
 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 a beast in de- 
 spair. 
 
 "The fool," I cried, "he has let one of our beasts 
 get loose, and the stream 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 anguish 
 we just heard, that was not Bou-Djema either. Bou- 
 Djema Is a brave Chaamba who has at this 
 moment only one idea, to appropriate the Intes- 
 tate capital represented by this camel In the 
 stream." 
 
 "Who gave that cry, then?"
 
 8o ATLANTIDA 
 
 "Let us try, If you like, to explore up this stream 
 that our guide is descending at such a rate." 
 
 And without waiting for my answer he had al- 
 ready set out through the recently washed gullies of 
 the rocky bank. 
 
 At that moment it can be truly said that Mor- 
 hange went to meet his destiny. 
 
 I followed him. We had the greatest difficulty in 
 proceeding two or three hundred meters. Finally we 
 saw at our feet a little rushing brook 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 long dark blue robes of the 
 Tuareg. 
 
 "Give me your hand," said Morhange, "and brace 
 yourself against a rock, 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 satisfac- 
 tion. "Now it is a question of getting him to the 
 grotto. This is no place to resuscitate a 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
 
 rili: INSCRIPTION 8i 
 
 the man's cotton clothes were almost dry. But the 
 dye had run plentifully, and it was an indigo man 
 that Morhange was trying to recall to life. 
 
 When I had made him swallow a quart of loim 
 he opened his eyes, looked at the two of us with 
 surprise, then, closing them again, murmured almost 
 unintelligibly a phrase, the sense of which we did 
 not get until 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 had better open some preserved 
 food. With fellows of this build you don't have to 
 observe the precautions prescribed for drowned 
 Europeans." 
 
 It was indeed a species of giant, whose life we 
 had just saved. His face, although very thin, was 
 regular, almost beautiful. He had a clear skin and 
 little beard. His hair, already white, showed him 
 to be a man of sixty years. 
 
 When I placed a tin of corned-beef before him a 
 light of voracious joy came 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 our questions without scruple." 
 
 Already the Targa had placed over his forehead 
 and face the blue veil prescribed by the ritual. He
 
 82 ATLANTIDA 
 
 must have been completely famished not to have per- 
 formed this indispensable formality sooner. There 
 was nothing visible now but the eyes, watching us 
 with a light that grew steadily more sombre. 
 
 "French officers," he murmured at last. 
 
 x'\nd 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 his beast. He in turn told us how it 
 had stumbled, and fallen into tke current, and he 
 himself, in trying to save it, had been knocked over. 
 His forehead had struck a rock. He had cried out. 
 After that he remembered 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-Rhela, the great nobles of Hoggar?" 
 
 "Yes," he answered, casting a side glance in my 
 direction. It seemed that such precise questions on 
 the affairs of Ahygar were not to his liking. 
 
 "The Kel-Tahats, if I am not mistaken, are es- 
 tablished on the southwest flank of Atakor.^ What 
 
 1 Another name, in the Temahaq language, for Ahaggar. 
 (Note by M. Leroux.)
 
 T H K I N S C R I I' T i O N 83 
 
 v.cre you doing, so far from your home territory' 
 when we saved your life?" 
 
 "I was going, by way of Tit, to Tn-Saleh," he said. 
 
 "What were you going to do at In-Saleh?" 
 
 He was about to reply. But suddenly we saw him 
 tremble. His eyes were fixed on a point of the cav- 
 ern. We looked to see what it was. He had just 
 seen the rock inscription which had so delighted 
 Morhange an hour before. 
 
 "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 strange feeling of rage sweeping over 
 me. 
 
 The Targui looked at me. I thought that he was 
 going to speak. But his eyes became suddenly hard. 
 Under the lustrous veil I saw his features stiffening. 
 
 Morhange and I turned around. 
 
 On the threshold of the cavern, breathless, dis- 
 comfited, harassed by an hour of vain pursuit, Bou- 
 Djema had returned to us.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE DISASTER OF THE LETTUCE 
 
 As Eg-Anteouen and Bou-Djema came face to 
 face, I fancied that both the Targa and the Cham- 
 baa gave a sudden start which each immediately 
 repressed. It was nothing more than a fleeting im- 
 pression. Nevertheless, it was enough to make me 
 resolve that as soon as I was alone with our guide, 
 I would question him closely concerning our new 
 companion. 
 
 The beginning of the day had been wearisome 
 enough. We decided, therefore, to spend the rest 
 of it there, and even to pass the night in 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 somewhat restrained. 
 
 "In three days, we shall be at Shikh-Salah," I said 
 to him. ''Perhaps by the evening of the second day, 
 badly as the camels go." 
 
 "Perhaps we shall separate before then," he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 84
 
 THE DISASTER OF THE LETTUCE 85 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "You sec, I have changed my itinerary a Httlc. I 
 have given up the idea of going straight to Timissao. 
 First I should hke to make a httle 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 in conversation with Morhange the pre- 
 vious evening and several minutes before. He was 
 quietly mending one of his sandals with a waxed 
 thread supplied by Bou-Djema. He did not raise 
 his head. 
 
 "It is simply," explained Morhange, less and less 
 at his ease, "that this man tells me there are similar 
 inscriptions in several caverns in western Ahaggar. 
 These caves are near the road that he has to take 
 returning home. He must pass by Tit. Now, from 
 Tit, by way of Silet, is hardly two hundred kilo- 
 meters. It Is a quasi-classic route ^ as short again 
 as the one that I shall have to take alone, after I 
 leave you, from Shikh-Salah to Timissao. That is 
 in part, you see, the reason which has made me de- 
 cide to . . ." 
 
 "In part? In very small part," I replied. "But 
 is your mind absolutely made up?" 
 
 ^ The route and the stages from Tit to Timissao were actually 
 plotted out, as early as 1888, by Captain Bissuel. Lrs Tuareg 
 de I'Ouest, itineraries i and 10. (Note by M. Leroux.)
 
 86 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "It Is," he answered me. 
 
 "When do you expect to leave me?" 
 
 "To-day. The road which Eg-Anteouen proposes 
 to take into Ahaggar crosses this one about four 
 leagues from here. I have a favor to ask of you In 
 this connection." 
 
 "Please tell me." 
 
 "It is to let me take one of the two baggage 
 camels, since my Targa has lost his." 
 
 "The camel which carries your baggage belongs 
 to you as much as does your own mehari," I answered 
 coldly. 
 
 We stood there several minutes without speaking. 
 Morhange maintained an uneasy silence; I was ex- 
 amining my map. All over it in greater or less de- 
 gree, but particularly towards the south, the unex- 
 plored portions of Ahaggar stood out as far too 
 numerous white patches in the tan 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, oi 
 course, that my company is not unwelcome to you — 
 I will go with you. Either way, I shall have two 
 hundred kilometers to go. I shall strike for Shikh-
 
 THE DISASTER OF THE LETTUCE 87 
 
 Salah from the south, Instead of from the west — 
 that Is the only difference." 
 
 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 addressed Morhange in this familiar 
 way), "my dear fellow, I have a sense which becomes 
 marvellously acute in the desert, the sense of danger. 
 I gave you a slight proof of it yesterday morning, at 
 the coming of the storm. With all your knowledge 
 of rock inscriptions, you seem to me to have no very 
 exact idea of what kind of place Ahaggar is, nor what 
 may be in store for you there. On that account, I 
 should be just as well pleased not to let you run 
 sure risks alone." 
 
 "I have a guide," he said with his adorable nai- 
 vete. 
 
 Eg-Anteouen, in the same squatting position, kept 
 on patching his old slipper. 
 
 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 must bring 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 the Targa coldly. "The grottos with 
 the inscriptions are three-days' march southward in 
 the mountains. At first, the road is rather rough.
 
 88 ATLANTIDA 
 
 But farther on, it turns, and you gain Timissao very 
 easily. There are good 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 scorn- 
 ful 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 had a clear intuition of the 
 folly we were committing in risking ourselves so un- 
 concernedly in that least known and most dangerous 
 part of the Sahara. Every blow which had been 
 struck in the last twenty years to undermine 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 mad scheme. No need of 
 going ov^er it again. What was the use of spoiling 
 my action by a continual exhibition of disapproval ? 
 And, furthermore, I may as well admit that I rather 
 liked the turn that our trip was beginning to take. 
 I had, at that instant, the sensation of journeying 
 toward something incredible, toward some tremend- 
 ous adventure. You do not live with Impunity for 
 months and years as the guest of the desert. Sooner 
 or later, it has its way with you, annihilates the good 
 officer, the timid executive, overthrows his solicitude 
 for his responsibilities. What is there behind those
 
 THE DISASTER OF THE LETTUCE 89 
 
 mysterious rocks, those dim solitudes, which have 
 held at bay the most illustrious pursuers of mys- 
 tery? You follow, I tell you, you follow. 
 
 "Are you sure at least that this inscription is in- 
 teresting enough to justify us in our undertaking?" 
 I asked Morhange. 
 
 My companion started with pleasure. Ever since 
 we began our journey I had realized his fear that 
 I was coming along half-heartedly. As soon as I 
 offered him a chance to convince me, his scruples 
 vanished, and his triumph seemed assured to him. 
 
 "Never," he answered, in a voice that he tried 
 to control, but through which the enthusiasm rang 
 out, "never has a Greek inscription been found so 
 far south. The farthest points where they have been 
 reported are in the south of Algeria and Cyrene. 
 But in Ahaggar! Think of it! It is true that this 
 one is translated into Tifinar. But this peculiarity 
 does not diminish the interest of the coincidence : it 
 increases it." 
 
 "What do you take to be the meaning of this 
 word?" 
 
 "Antinea can only be a proper name," said Mor- 
 hange. "To whom does it refer? I admit I don't 
 know, and if at this very moment I am marching 
 toward the south, dragging you along with me, it is 
 because I count on learning more about It. Its ety- 
 molog)'? It hasn't one definitely, but there are thirty
 
 90 ATLANTIDA 
 
 possibilities. Bear in mind that the Tifinar alphabet 
 is far from tallying with the Greek alphabet, which 
 increases the number of hypotheses. Shall I suggest 
 several?" 
 
 "I was just about to ask you to." 
 
 "To begin with, there is avn and vav<; the 
 woman who is placed opposite a vessel, an explana- 
 tion which would have been pleasing to Gaffarel and 
 to my venerated master Berlioux. That would apply 
 well enough to the figure-heads of ships. There is 
 a technical term that I cannot recall at this moment, 
 not if you beat me a hundred times over.^ 
 
 "Then there is avrivrja, that you must relate 
 to avTi and vaoq, she who holds herself before 
 the vao$, the va6<; of the temple, she who is 
 opposite the sanctuary, therefore priestess. An in- 
 terpretation which would enchant Girard and Renan. 
 
 "Next we have avTtvi, from avri and 
 vio^, new, which can mean two things: either she 
 who is the contrary of young, which is to say old; 
 or she who is the enemy of novelty or the enemy of 
 youth. 
 
 There Is still another sense of Vart, in ex- 
 change for, which Is capable of complicating all the 
 others I have mentioned; likewise there are four 
 meanings for the verb vio) , which means in turn 
 
 1 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.)
 
 THi: DISAS'l'EK OF THE LETTUCE 91 
 
 to yo, to flozv, to thread or iveavr, to heap, 'ihere 
 is more still. . . . And notice, please, that I have 
 not at rny disposition on the otherwise commodious 
 hump of this mehari, cither tlie great dictionary of 
 Estienne or the lexicons of Passow, of Pape, or of 
 Liddel-Scott. This is only to show you, my dear 
 friend, that epigraphy is hut a relative science, al- 
 ways dependent on the discovery of a new text which 
 contradicts the previous findings, when it is not 
 merely at the mercy of the humors of the epigraph- 
 ists and their pet conceptions of the universe.^ 
 
 "That was rather my view of it," I said. "But 
 I must admit my astonishment to find that, with such 
 a sceptical opinion of the goal, you still do not hesi- 
 tate to take risks which may be quite considerable." 
 
 Morhange smiled wanly. 
 
 "I do not interpret, my friend; I collect. From 
 v/hat I will take back to him, Dom Granger has the 
 ability to draw conclusions which are beyond my 
 slight knowledge. I was amusing myself a little. 
 Pardon me." 
 
 Just then the girth of one of the baggage camels, 
 evidently not well fastened, came loose. Part of the 
 load slipped and fell to the ground. 
 
 ^ Captain Morhange seems to have forgotten in this enumera- 
 tion, in places fanciful, the etymology of avOivia, a Doric dia- 
 lect form of avOivrj, from dvOog , a flower, and which would 
 mean which is in flozcer. (Note by M. Leroux.)
 
 92 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Eg-Anteouen descended instantly from his beast 
 and helped Bou-Djema repair the damage. 
 
 When they had finished, I made my mehari walk 
 beside Bon-Djema's. 
 
 "It will be better to resaddle the camels at the 
 next stop. They will have to climb the mountain." 
 
 The guide looked at me with amazement. Up to 
 that time I had thought it unnecessary to acquaint 
 him with our new projects. But I supposed Eg- 
 Anteouen would have told him. 
 
 "Lieutenant, the road across the white plain 
 to Shikh-Salah is not mountainous," said the 
 Chaamba. 
 
 "We are not keeping to the road across the white 
 plain. We are going south, 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 eyes were 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 with Morhange's. The two men 
 were talking. I realized that Morhange must be 
 conversing with Eg-Anteouen about the famous in- 
 scriptions. But we were not so far behind that they 
 could not have overheard our words.
 
 THE DISASTER OF THE LETTUCE 93 
 
 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 to pray, when the sun goes down. 
 Then, call me to you. I will tell you. . . . 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 as to make him overtake Mor- 
 hange. 
 
 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 trom his 
 camel. 
 
 It was a beautiful and sinister place. To our 
 left a fantastic wall of granite outlined its gray ribs 
 against the sky. This wall was pierced, from top 
 to bottom, by a winding corridor about a thousand 
 feet high and scarcely wide enough In places to allow 
 three camels to walk abreast. 
 
 "Here It is," repeated the Targa. 
 
 To the west, straight behind us, the track that we 
 were leaving unrolled like a pale ribbon. The white 
 plain, the road to Shikh-Salah, the established halts, 
 the well-known wells. . . . And, on the other side,
 
 94 ; A T L A N T I D A 
 
 this black wall against the mauve sky, this dark pas- 
 sage. 
 
 I looked at Morhange. 
 
 "We had better stop here," he said simply. "Eg- 
 Anteouen advises us to take as much water here as 
 we can carry." 
 
 With one accord we decided to spend the night 
 there, before undertaking the mountain. 
 
 There was a spring, in a dark basin, from which 
 fell a little cascade; there were a few shrubs, a fevv' 
 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 a great flat stone. An opened 
 tin of meat lay beside a plate of lettuce which he had 
 just gathered from the moist earth around the 
 spring. I could tell from the distracted manner in 
 which he placed these objects upon the rock how 
 deep was his anxiety. 
 
 As he was bending toward me to hand me a plate, 
 he pointed to the gloomy 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 Arabs call Ahaggar." 
 
 Bou-Djema went a little distance off and sat down,
 
 TlIK DISASTER OF TIIF I.KTTUCK 95 
 
 leaving us to our dinner. Squatting; on his heels, he 
 began to eat a few lettuce leaves that 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 red brand. We saw Eg-An- 
 teouen approach the fountain, spread his blue burn- 
 ous on the ground and kneel upon it. 
 
 "T did not suppose that the Tuareg were so ob- 
 servant of Mussulman tradition," said Morhange. 
 
 "Nor I," I replied thoughtfully. 
 
 But I had something to do at that moment besides 
 making such speculations. 
 
 "Bou-Djema," I called. 
 
 At the same time, I looked at Eg-Anteouen. Ab- 
 sorbed In his prayer, bowed toward the west, appar- 
 ently he was paying no attention to me. As he pros- 
 trated himself, I called ae^ain. 
 
 "Bou-Djema, come with me to my mehari: I want 
 to get something out of the saddle bags." 
 
 Still kneeling, Eg-Anteouen vras 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-Anteouen reached him as soon as we did. 
 
 With his eyes closed and his limbs already cold, 
 the Chaamba breathed a death rattle in Morhange's 
 arms. I had seized one of his hands. Eg-Anteouen
 
 96 ATLANTIDA 
 
 took the other. Each, In his own way, was trying 
 to divine, to understand. . . . 
 
 Suddenly Eg-Anteouen leapt to his feet. He had 
 just seen the poor embossed bowl which the Arab 
 had held an instant before between his knees, and 
 which now lay overturned upon the ground. 
 
 He picked it up, looked quickly at one after an- 
 other of the leaves of lettuce 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 the rock where our dinner was 
 set, a second later, he was again beside us, hold- 
 ing 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 and held 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 had killed a part of the Flat- 
 ters mission more quickly and surely than Tuareg 
 arms. 
 
 Eg-Anteouen stood up. His tall silhouette was 
 outlined blackly against the sky which suddenly had 
 turned pale lilac. He was watching us. 
 
 We bent again over the unfortunate guide.
 
 TII[<: DISASTKR OF Till- I.I:TTUCE 97 
 
 "Afahlehlc," the Targa repeated, and shook his 
 head. 
 
 Bou-Djerna died in the middle of the night with- 
 out having regained consciousness.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE COUNTRY OF FEAR 
 
 "It is curious," said Morhange, "to see how our 
 expedition, uneventful since we left Ouargla, is now 
 becoming exciting," 
 
 He said this after kneeling for a moment in 
 prayer before the painfully dug grave in which we 
 had lain the guide. 
 
 I do not believe in God. But if anything can in- 
 fluence whatever powers there may be, whether of 
 good or of evil, of light or of darkness, It is the 
 prayer of such a man. 
 
 For two days we picked our way through a gi- 
 gantic chaos of black rock in what might have been 
 the country of the moon, so barren was it. No 
 sound but that of stones rolling under the feet of 
 the camels and striking like gimshots 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 soon upset; 
 doubtless a mistake due to the swaying motion of 
 
 98
 
 thj: couNi kv i)i i'i:ak v9 
 
 the camel. I put the compass back in one of my 
 saddle-bags. From that time on, Kg-Antcouen was 
 our master. We could only trust ourselves to him. 
 
 He went first; Morhange followed him, and I 
 brought up the rear. We passed at every step most 
 curious specimens of volcanic rock. But I did not 
 examine them. I was no longer interested in such 
 things. Another kind of curiosity had taken pos- 
 session of me. I had come to share Morhange's 
 madness. If my companion had said to me: "We 
 are doing a very rash thing. Let us go back to the 
 known trails," I should have 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 a black mountain whose 
 jagged ramparts towered in profile seven thousand 
 feet above our heads. It was an enormous shadowy 
 fortress, like the outline of a feudal stronghold sil- 
 houetted with incredible sharpness against the 
 orange sky. 
 
 There was a well, with several trees, the first 
 we had seen since cutting into Ahaggar. 
 
 A group of men were standing about it. Their 
 camels, tethered close by, 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."
 
 loo ATLANTIDA 
 
 We went toward them. 
 
 They were handsome men, those Eggali, the larg- 
 est Tuareg whom I ever have seen. With unex- 
 pected swiftness they drew aside from the well, leav- 
 ing it to us. Eg-Anteouen spoke a few words to 
 them. They looked at Morhange and me with a 
 curiosity bordering on fear, but at any rate, with 
 respect. 
 
 I drew several little presents from my saddlebags 
 and was astonished at the reserve of the chief, who 
 refused them. He seemed afraid even of my 
 glance. 
 
 When they had gone, I expressed my astonish- 
 ment at this shyness for which my previous experi- 
 ences with the tribes of the Sahara had not pre- 
 pared me. 
 
 "They spoke with respect, even with fear," I said 
 to Eg-Anteouen. "And yet the tribe of the Eggali 
 is noble. And that of the Kel-Tahats, to which 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 the Mountain of the Evil 
 Spirits." 
 
 With a gesture, he indicated the black mountain. 
 
 "They are afraid. All the Tuareg of Ahaggar 
 are afraid of the Mountain of the Evil Spirits. You
 
 THE COUNTRY OF FEAR loi 
 
 saw how they were up and off at the very mention 
 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 in- 
 scriptions are that I told you about." 
 
 "You did not mention that detail to us." 
 
 "Why should I? The Tuareg are afraid of the 
 ilhinen, spirits with horns and tails, covered with 
 hair, who make the cattle sicken and die and cast 
 spells over men. But I know well that the Chris- 
 tians are not afraid 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 a chain of white seeds. 
 
 "I have my amulet," he replied gravely, "blessed 
 by the venerable Sidi-Moussa himself. And then I 
 am with you. You saved my life. You have de- 
 sired to see the inscriptions. The will of Allah be 
 done!" 
 
 As he finished speaking, he squatted on his heels, 
 drew out his long reed pipe and began to smoke 
 gravely. 
 
 "All this is beginning to seem very strange," said 
 Morhange, coming over to me. 
 
 "You can say that without exaggeration." I re- 
 plied. "You remember as well as I the passage fn
 
 102 ATLANTIDA 
 
 which Barth tells of his expedition to the Idinen, 
 the Mountain of the Evil Spirits of the Azdjer 
 Tuareg. The region had so evil a reputation that 
 no Targa would go with him. But he got back." 
 
 "Yes, he got back," replied my comrade, "but 
 only after he had been lost. Without water or food, 
 he came so near dying of hunger and thirst that he 
 had to open a vein and drink his own blood. The 
 prospect is not particularly attractive." 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders. After all, it was not my 
 fault that we were there. 
 
 Morhange understood my gesture and thought it 
 necessary to make excuses. 
 
 **I should be curious," he went on with rather 
 forced gaiety, "to meet these spirits and substantiate 
 the facts of Pomponius Mela who knew them and 
 locates them, in fact, in the mountain of the Tuareg. 
 He calls them Egipans, Blemyens, Gamphasantes, 
 Satyrs. . . . 'The Gamphasantes,' he says, 'are 
 naked. The Blemyens have no head: their faces 
 are placed on their chests; the Satyrs have nothing 
 like men except faces. The Egipans are made as Is 
 commonly described.' . . . Satyrs, Egipans . . . 
 isn't it very strange to find Greek names given to 
 the barbarian spirits of this region? Believe me, 
 we are on a curious trail; I am sure that Antinea 
 will be our key to remarkable discoveries." 
 
 "Listen," I said, laying a linger on my lips. 
 
 Strange sounds rose from about us as the evening
 
 T I { K C O U X r R Y O F F i: A R 1 03 
 
 advanced with great strides. A kind of crackling, 
 followed by long rending shrieks, echoed and re- 
 echoed to infinity in the neighboring ravines. It 
 seemed to me that the whole black mountain sud- 
 denly had begun to moan. 
 
 We looked at Eg-Anteouen. He was smoking on, 
 without twitching a muscle. 
 
 "The ilhincn are waking up," he said sim- 
 ply. 
 
 Morhange listened v/ithout saying a word. 
 Doubtless he understood as I did: the overheated 
 rocks, the crackling of the stone, a whole series of 
 physical phenomena, the example of the singing sta- 
 tue of Memnon. . . . But, for all that, this unex- 
 pected concert reacted no less painfully on our over- 
 strained 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 ap- 
 peared in the sky. With deep emotion we watched 
 the tiny bluish flames appear, one after another. 
 At that portentous moment they seemed to span the 
 distance between us, isolated, condemned, lost, and 
 our brothers of higher latitudes, who at that hour 
 were rushing about their poor pleasures with de-
 
 I04 ATLANTIDA 
 
 lirious frenzy in cities where the whiteness of elec- 
 tric lamps came on in a burst. 
 
 Chet-Ahadh essa hettsenet 
 Mdteredjre d'Erredjaot, 
 Mdtesekek d-Essekdot, 
 Mdtelahrlahr d'Ellerhdot, 
 Ettas djenen, bardd tit-ennit abdtet. 
 
 Eg-Anteouen's voice raised'itself in slow guttural 
 tones. It resounded with sad, grave majesty in the 
 silence now complete. 
 
 I touched the Targa's arm. With a movement 
 of his head, he pointed to a constellation glittering 
 in the firmament. 
 
 "The Pleiades," I murmured to Morhange, show- 
 ing him the seven pale stars, while Eg-Anteouen 
 took up his mournful song in the same monotone: 
 
 "The Daughters of the Night are seven: 
 Materedjre and Erredjeaot, 
 Matesekek and Essekaot, 
 Matelahrlahr and Ellerhaot, 
 
 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 was starting to intone his refrain 
 for the third time.
 
 THJ-: COUXTRY OV FEAR loq 
 
 "When will we reach this cave with the inscrip- 
 tions?" I asked hrusqucly. 
 
 He looked at me and replied with his usual calm : 
 
 "We are there." 
 
 "We arc there? Then why don't you sliow it to 
 us r 
 
 "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 see nothing. And perhaps it is 
 still some way off." 
 
 "It is hardly five hundred paces," Eg-Anteouen re- 
 plied. "The cave is full of dead underbrush. We 
 will set it on fire and the Captain will see as in full 
 daylight." 
 
 "Come," my comrade repeated. 
 
 "And the camels?" I hazarded. 
 
 "They are tethered," said Eg-Anteouen, "and we 
 shall not be gone long." 
 
 He had started toward the black mountain. Mor- 
 hange, trembling with excitement, followed. I fol- 
 lowed, too, the victim of profound uneasiness. My 
 pulses throbbed. "I am not afraid," I kept re- 
 peating to myself. "I swear that this is not fear."
 
 io6 ATLANTIDA 
 
 And really it was not fear. Yet, what a strange 
 dizziness! There was a mist 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, repeated that sinister last line to infinity: 
 
 "And the seventh is a boy, one of whose eyes has 
 fiown away." 
 
 "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 a pile of brush near the surface. At 
 first we could see nothing. The smoke blinded us. 
 
 Eg-Anteouen stayed at one side of the opening 
 of the cave. He was seated and, more inscrutible 
 than ever, had begun again to blow great puffs of 
 gray smoke from his pipe. 
 
 The burning brush cast a flickering light. I caught 
 a glim.pse of Morhange. He seemed very pale. 
 With both hands braced against the wall, he was 
 working to decipher a mass of signs which I could 
 scarcely distinguish.
 
 THE COUNTRY OF FEAR 
 
 lO' 
 
 Nevertheless, I tliou^hr I could see his haiuis 
 trembling. 
 
 " The devil," I thout^ht, finding it more and more 
 difficult to co-ordinate my thoughts, "he seems to 
 be as unstrung as T." 
 
 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 even sounds were confused in the 
 smoke. 
 
 "Antinea. ... At last \ntinea. But not 
 
 cut in the rock . . . the marks 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 and astonishment. 
 
 "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, over- 
 come, on a rock opposite me. Eg-Anteouen was still 
 smoking placidly at the mouth of the cave. We
 
 io8 ATLANTIDA 
 
 could see the red circle of his pipe glowing in the 
 darkness. 
 
 "Madman! Madman!" repeated Morhange. 
 His voice seemed to stick in his throat. 
 
 Suddenly he bent over the brush which was giving 
 its last darts of flame, high and clear. He picked 
 out a branch which had not yet caught. I saw him 
 examine it carefully, then throw it back in the fire 
 with 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 his inscrutable face and flickered in his ter- 
 rible 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 gave him 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.
 
 THE COUNTRY OF F i : A K 109 
 
 "Captain Masson," I repeated in concert with 
 Morhange. 
 
 We laughed again. 
 
 "Ha! Ha! Ha! Captain Masson. . . . Colo- 
 nel Flatters. . . . The well of (iarama. They 
 killed him to take his pipe . . . that pipe. It was 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh who killed Captain Masson." 
 
 "It was Cegheir-ben-Cheikh," repeated the Targa 
 with imperturbable calm. 
 
 "Captain Masson and Colonel Flatters had left 
 the convoy to look for the well," said Morhange, 
 laughing. 
 
 "It was then that the Tuareg attacked them," I 
 finished, laughing as hard as I could. 
 
 "A Targa of Ahaggar seized the bridle of Cap- 
 tain Masson's horse," said Morhange. 
 
 "Cegheir-ben-Cheikh had hold of Colonel Flat- 
 ters' bridle," put in Eg-Anteouen. 
 
 "The Colonel puts his foot in the stirrup and re- 
 ceives a cut from Cegheir-ben-Cheikh's saber," I 
 said. 
 
 "Captain Masson draws his revolver and fires on 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh, shooting off three fingers of his 
 left hand," said Morhange. 
 
 "But," finished Eg-Anteouen imperturbably, "but 
 Cegheir-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 up his face. We saw the gleaming
 
 no ATLANTIDA 
 
 black stem of his pipe. He held it in his left hand. 
 One finger, no, two fingers only on that hand. 
 Hello I I had 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 pipe from him. Bravo, Cegheir-ben- 
 Cheikh !" 
 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh does not reply, but I can see 
 how satisfied with himself he is. He keeps on smok- 
 ing. I can hardly see his features now. The fire- 
 light pales, dies. I have never laughed so much as 
 this evening. I am sure Morhange never has, either. 
 Perhaps he will forget the cloister. And all because 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh stole Captain Masson's pipe. . . . 
 
 Again that accursed song. "The seventh is a boy, 
 one of whose eyes has flown away." One cannot 
 imagine more senseless words. It is very strange, 
 really: there seem to be four of us in this cave now. 
 Four, I say, five, six, seven, eight. . . . Make your- 
 selves at home, my friends. What! there are no 
 more of you? ... I am going to find out at last 
 how the spirits of this region are made, the Gam- 
 phasantes, the Blemyens. . . . Morhange says that 
 the Blemye?is have their faces on the middle of their 
 chests. Surely this one who is seizing me in his arms 
 is not a Blemyen! Now he is carrying me outside. 
 And Morhange ... I do not want them to forget 
 Morhange. . . ,
 
 THE COUNTRY' OF F FAR 1 1 1 
 
 They did not forget him; I see him perched on a 
 CJimel in front of that one to which I am fastened. 
 They did well to fasten me, for otherwise I surely 
 would tumble off. These spirits certainly are not 
 bad fellows. But what a long way it is ! T want to 
 stretch out. To sleep. A while ago we surely were 
 following a long passage, then we were in the open 
 air. Now we are again in an endless stifling corri- 
 dor. Here are the stars again. ... Is this ridicu- 
 lous course going to keep on? . . . 
 
 Hello, lights! Stars, perhaps. No, lights, I say. 
 A stairway, on my word; of rocks, to be sure, but 
 still, a stairv^'ay. How can the camels . . . ? But 
 it is no longer a camel; this is a man carrying me. 
 A man dressed in white, not a Gamphasante nor a 
 Blemyen. Morhange must be giving himself airs 
 with his historical reasoning, all false, I repeat, all 
 false. Good Morhange. Provided that his Gam- 
 phasante does not let him fall on this unending stair- 
 way. Something glitters on the ceiling. Yes, it is a 
 lamp, a copper lamp, as at Tunis, at Barbouchy's. 
 Good, here again you cannot see anything. But I 
 am making a fool of myself; I am lying down; now 
 I can go to sleep. What a silly day! . . . Gentle- 
 men, I assure you that it is unnecessary to bind me: 
 I do 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
 
 112 ATLANTIDA 
 
 me. What are they saying? . . . No, it is impos- 
 sible. That metallic ring, that voice. Do you know 
 what it is calling, that voice, do you know what it is 
 calling in the tones of someone used to the phrase? 
 Well, it is calling: 
 
 "Play your cards, gentlemen, play your cards. 
 There are ten thousand loiiis in the bank. Play your 
 cards, gentlemen." 
 
 In the name of God, am I or am I not at Ahaggar?
 
 CHAPTER VTII 
 
 AWAKENING AT AHAGGAR 
 
 It was broad daylight when I opened my eyes. T 
 thought at once of Morhange. I could not see him, 
 but I heard him, close by, giving little grunts of sur- 
 prise. 
 
 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 get free." 
 
 "You might have untied me, too," I remarked 
 crossly. 
 
 "What good would it have done? I should only 
 have waked you up. And I thought 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 been In a worse state," he said. 
 "Anyhow, that Eg-Anteouen with his hasheesh is a 
 fine rascal." 
 
 "Cegheir-ben-Cheikh," I corrected. 
 
 113
 
 114 ATLANTIDA 
 
 I rubbed my hand over my forehead. 
 
 "Where are we?" 
 
 "My dear boy," Morhange replied, "since I awak- 
 ened from the extraordinary nightmare which is 
 mixed up with the smoky cave and the lamp-lit stair- 
 way of the Arabian Nights, I have been going from 
 surprise to surprise, from confusion to confusion. 
 Just look around you." 
 
 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 about the same height, lighted 
 by a great window opening on a sky of intense 
 blue. 
 
 Swallows flew back and forth, outside, giving 
 quick, joyous cries. 
 
 The floor, the incurving walls and the ceiling were 
 of a kind of veined marble like porphyry, panelled 
 with a strange metal, paler than gold, darker than 
 silver, clouded just then by the early morning mist 
 that came in through the window in great puffs. 
 
 I staggered toward this window, drawn J3y the 
 freshness of the breeze and the sunlight which was 
 chasing away my dreams, and I leaned my elbows 
 on the balustrade, 
 
 I could not restrain a cry of delight. 
 
 I was standing on a kind of balcony, cut into the
 
 AWAKENING AT AHAGGAR 115 
 
 flank of a mountain, overhanging an abyss. Above 
 me, blue sky; below appeared a veritable earthly 
 paradise hemmed in on all sides by mountains that 
 formed a continuous and impassable wall about it. 
 A garden lay spread out down there. The palm 
 trees gently swayed their great fronds. At their feet 
 was a tangle of the smaller trees which grow in an 
 oasis under their protection: almonds, lemons, 
 oranges, and many others which I could not dis- 
 tinguish from that height. A broad blue stream, fed 
 by a waterfall, emptied into a charming lake, the 
 waters of which had the marvellous transparency 
 which comes in high altitudes. Great birds flew in 
 circles over this green hollow; I could see in the 
 lake the red flash of a flamingo. 
 
 The peaks of the mountains which towered on all 
 sides were completely covered 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 an impression 
 of beauty, of purity, that my poor human strength 
 could no longer stand the sight of it. I laid my fore- 
 head on the balustrade, which, too, was covered 
 with that heavenly snow, and began to cry like a 
 baby. 
 
 Morhange was behaving like another child. But 
 he had awakened before I had, and doubtless had 
 had time to grasp, one by one, all these details whose 
 fantastic ensemble staggered me.
 
 ii6 ATLANTIDA 
 
 He laid his hand on my shoulder and gently pulled 
 me back into the room. 
 
 "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 fur- 
 nished — God forgive me — in the European fashion. 
 There were indeed, here and there, round leather 
 Tuareg cushions, brightly colored blankets from 
 Gafsa, rugs from Kairouan, and Caramani hangings 
 which, at that moment, I should have dreaded to 
 draw aside. But a \half-open panel in thd "wall 
 showed a bookcase crowded with books. A whole 
 row of photographs of masterpieces of ancient art 
 were hung on the walls. Finally there was a table 
 almost hidden under its heap of papers, pamphlets, 
 books. I thought 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 laugh seized us and doubled us 
 up for a good minute. 
 
 "I do not know," Morhange finally managed to 
 say, "whether or not we shall regret some day our 
 little excursion into Ahaggar. But admit, in the 
 meantime, that it promises to be rich in unexpected 
 adventures. That unforgettable guide who puts us 
 to sleep just to distract us from the unpleasantness of
 
 AWAKENING AT AIIAGGAR 117 
 
 caravan life and who lets mc experience, in the best 
 of good faith, the far-famed delights of hasheesh: 
 that fantastic night ride, and, to cap the climax, this 
 cave of a Nureddin who must have received the edu- 
 cation of the Athenian Bersot at the French Ecole 
 Normale — all this is enough, on my word, to upset 
 the wits of the best balanced." 
 
 "What do I think, my poor friend? Why, just 
 what you yourself think. I don't understand it at 
 all, not at all. What you politely call my learning 
 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 in caves, seven days' 
 march southwest of the country of the Amantes, and 
 twelve days to the westward of the great Syrte. 
 Herodotus says also that the Garamentes used to 
 go out in their chariots to hunt the cave-dwelling 
 Ethiopians. But here we are in Ahaggar, in the 
 midst of the Targa country, and the best authorities 
 tell us that the Tuareg never have been willing to 
 live in caves. Duveyrier is precise on that point. 
 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 the walls? I tell you that 
 it is enough to drive you mad." 
 
 And Morhange threw himself on a couch and 
 began to roar with laughter again. 
 
 "See,'* I said, "this is Latin." 
 
 I had picked up several scattered papers from the
 
 ii8 ATLANTIDA 
 
 work-table in the middle of the room. Morhangc 
 took them from my hands and devoured them greed- 
 ily. His face expressed unbounded stupefaction. 
 
 "Stranger and stranger, my boy. Someone here 
 Is composing, with much citation of texts, a disser- 
 tation on the Gorgon Islands : de Gorgoniim insidis. 
 Medusa, according to him, was a Libyan savage who 
 lived near Lake Triton, our present Chott Melhrir, 
 and it is there that Perseus . . . Ah!" 
 
 Morhange's words choked in his throat. A sharp, 
 shrill voice pierced the 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 unexpected of persons came in. Re- 
 signed as we were to unexpected events, the improb- 
 ability of this sight exceeded anything our Imagina- 
 tions could have devised. 
 
 On the threshold stood a little bald-headed man 
 with a pointed sallow face half hidden by an enor- 
 mous pair of green spectacles and a pepper and salt 
 beard. No shirt was visible, but an impressive broad 
 red cravat. He wore white trousers. Red leather 
 slippers furnished the only Oriental suggestion of 
 his costume. 
 
 He wore, not without pride, the rosette of an 
 officer of the Department of Education. 
 
 He collected the papers which Morhangc had 
 dropped in his amazement, counted them, arranged
 
 AWAKENING AT AHAGGAR 119 
 
 them; then, casting a peevish glance at u», he struck 
 a copper gong. 
 
 The portiere was raised again. A huge white 
 Targa entered. I seemed to recognize him as one 
 of the genii of the ca\e.^ 
 
 "Ferradji," angrily demanded the little officer of 
 the Department of Education, "why were these gen- 
 tlemen brought into the library?" 
 
 The Targa bowed respectfully. 
 
 "Cegheir-bcn-Cheikh came back sooner than we 
 expected," he replied, "and last night the embalmers 
 had not yet finished. They brought them here 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 and spoke 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 the papers feverishly. 
 
 I do not know why, but a mad feeling of exasper- 
 ation seized me. I walked toward him. 
 
 "Sir," I said, "my friend and I do not know where 
 we are nor who you are. We can see only that you 
 
 1 The negro serfs among the Tuareg arc generallj' called 
 "white Tuareg." While the nobles are clad in blue cotton robes, 
 the serfs wear white robe?, hence their name of "white Tuareg." 
 See, in this connection, Duveyrier: Ics Tuareg du Nord. page 
 292. (Note by M. Leroux.)
 
 I20 ATLANTIDA 
 
 are French, since you are wearing one of the highest 
 honorary decorations of our country. You may have 
 made the same observation on your part," I added, 
 indicating the slender red ribbon 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 of Cegheir-ben-Cheikh, the name of a bri- 
 gand, a bandit, one of the assassins of Colonel Flat- 
 ters. 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 to Morhange, "I call you to witness the 
 strange manners of your companion. I am here in 
 my own house and I do not allow . . ." 
 
 "You must excuse my comrade, sir," said Mor- 
 hange, stepping forward. "He is not a man of 
 letters, as you are. These young lieutenants are 
 hot-headed, you know. And besides, you can under- 
 stand why both of us are not as calm as might be 
 desired." 
 
 I was furious and on the point of disavowing these 
 strangely humble words of Morhange. But a glance
 
 AWAKENING AT AIIAGGAR i2r 
 
 showed me that there was as much Irony as surprise 
 in his expression. 
 
 "I know indeed that most officers are brutes," 
 grumbled the little old man. "But that is no rea- 
 son . . . 
 
 "I am only an officer myself," Morhange went on, 
 In an even humbler tone, "and if ever I have been 
 sensible to the intellectual inferiority of that class, 1 
 assure you that it was just now in glancing — I beg 
 your pardon for having taken the liberty to do so — 
 in glancing over the learned pages which you devote 
 to the passionate story of Medusa, 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," Mor- 
 hange continued imperturbably, "that we are not in 
 possession of the curious dissertation devoted to this 
 burning question by Statius Sebosus, a work which 
 we know only through Pliny and which . . ." 
 
 "You know Statius Sebosus?" 
 
 "And which my master, the geographer Ber- 
 
 lOUX . . . 
 
 "You knew Berlioux — you were his pupil?" stam- 
 mered the little man with the decoration. 
 
 "I have had that honor," replied Morhange, very 
 coldly. 
 
 "But, but, sir, then you have heard mentioned, you
 
 122 ATLANTIDA 
 
 are familiar with the question, the problem of At- 
 lantis?" 
 
 "Indeed I am not unacquainted with the works of 
 Lagneau, Ploix, Arbois de Jubainville," said Mor- 
 hange frigidly. 
 
 "My God!" The little man was going through 
 extraordinary contortions. "Sir — Captain, how 
 happy I am, how many excuses. . . ." 
 
 Just then, the portiere was raised. Ferradji ap- 
 peared again. 
 
 "Sir, they want me to tell you that unless you 
 come, they will begin without 5'^ou." 
 
 "I am coming, I am coming. Say, Ferradji, that 
 we will be there in a moment. Why, sir, if I had 
 foreseen ... It is extraordinary ... to find an 
 officer who knows Procles of Carthage and Arbois 
 de Jubainville, Again . . . But I must introduce 
 myself. 1 am Etienne Le Mesge, Fellow of the Uni- 
 versity." 
 
 "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 to confuse Arbois of Carthage with 
 Procles de Jubainville. Later, I shall have to see 
 about filling up those gaps. But just now, I should 
 like to know where we are, if we are free, and if 
 not, what occult power holds us. You have the ap- 
 pearance, sir, of being sufficiently at home in this 
 house to be able to enlighten us upon this point.
 
 AWAKENING AT AHAGGAK 123 
 
 which I must confess, I weakly consider of the first 
 importance." 
 
 M. Le Mesge looked at me. A rather malevolent 
 smile twitched the corners of his mouth. He opened 
 his lips. . . . 
 
 A gong sounded impatiently. 
 
 "In good time, gentlemen, I will tell you. I will 
 explain everything. . . . But now you see that we 
 must hurry. It is time for lunch and our fellow din- 
 ers will get tired of waiting." 
 
 "Our fellow diners?" 
 
 "There are two of them," M. Le Mesge ex- 
 plained. "We three constitute the European per- 
 sonnel of the house, that is, the fixed personnel," he 
 seemed to feel obliged to add, with his disquieting 
 smile. "Two strange fellows, gentlemen, with 
 whom, doubtless, you will care to have 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, an old 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. He teaches them every game imag- 
 inable. There, that is he who is striking the gong 
 to hurry us up. It is half past nine, and the Salle 
 de Trente et Qiiarante opens at ten o'clock. Let us
 
 124 ATLANTIDA 
 
 hurry. I suppose that anyway you will not be averse 
 to a little refreshment." 
 
 "Indeed we shall not refuse," Morhangc replied. 
 
 We followed M. Le Mesge along a long winding 
 corridor with frequent steps. The passage was 
 dark. But at intervals rose-colored night lights and 
 incense burners were placed in niches cut into the 
 solid rock. The passionate Oriental scents perfumed 
 the darkness and contrasted strangely with the cold 
 air of the snowy peaks. 
 
 From time to time, a white Targa, mute and ex- 
 pressionless as a phantom, would pass us and we 
 would hear the clatter of his slippers die away be- 
 hind us. 
 
 M. Le Mesge stopped before a heavy door cov- 
 ered with the same pale metal which I had noticed 
 on the walls of the library. He opened it and stood 
 aside to let us pass. 
 
 Although the dining room which we entered had 
 little in common with European dining rooms, I have 
 known many which might have envied its comfort. 
 Like the library, it was lighted by a great window. 
 But I noticed that it had an outside exposure, while 
 that of the library overlooked the garden In the 
 center of the crown of mountains. 
 
 No center table and none of those barbaric pieces 
 of furniture that we call chairs. But a great number 
 of buffet tables of gilded wood, like those of Venice, 
 heavy hangings of dull and subdued colors, and cush-
 
 AWAKENING AT AlIAGGAR 125 
 
 ions, Tuareg or Tunisian. In the center was a huge 
 mat on which a feast was placed in finely woven 
 baskets among silver pitchers and copper basins filled 
 with perfumed water. The sight of it filled me with 
 childish satisfaction. 
 
 M. Le Mesge stepped forward and introduced 
 us to the two persons who already had taken their 
 places on the mat. 
 
 "Mr. Spardek," he said ; and by that simple phrase 
 I understood how far our host placed himself above 
 vain human titles. 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Spardek, of Manchester, 
 bowed reservedly and asked our permission to keep 
 on his tall, widebrimmed hat. He was a dry, cold 
 man, tall and tiin. He ate in pious sadness, enor- 
 mously. 
 
 "Monsieur Bielowsky," said M. Le Mesge, intro- 
 ducing us CO the second guest. 
 
 "Coun: Casimir Bielowsky, Hetman of Jitomir," 
 the latter corrected with perfect good humor as he 
 stood up to shake hands. 
 
 I fet at once a certain liking for the Hetman of 
 Jitomi* vvho was a perfect example of an old beau. 
 His ciocolate-coloured hair was parted in the center 
 (lat-r I found out that the Hetman dyed it with a 
 corcoction of khol) . He had magnificent whiskers, 
 a^o chocolate-coloured, in the style of the Em- 
 >eror Francis Joseph. His nose was undeniably a 
 little red, but so fine, so aristocratic. His hands were
 
 126 ATLANTIDA 
 
 marvelous. It took some thought to place the date 
 of the style of the count's costume, bottle green with 
 yellow facings, ornamented with a huge seal of sil- 
 ver and enamel. The recollection of a portrait of 
 the Duke de Morny made me decide on i860 or 
 1862; and the 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 was to demand if I ever cut fives.^ 
 "That depends on how I feel," 1 replied. 
 "Well said, I have not done so since 1866. I 
 swore off. A row. The devil of a party. One day 
 at Walewski's. I cut fives. Naturally I wasn't 
 worrying any. The other had a fou*-. 'Idiot !' cried 
 the little Baron de Chaux Gisseux who was laying 
 staggering sums on my table. I huiled a bottle of 
 champagne at his head. He ducked. It was Mar- 
 shal Baillant who got the bottle. A scene! The 
 matter was fixed up because we were ooth Free 
 Masons. The Emperor made me promise not to cut 
 fives again. I have kept my promise. Bit 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 "-hese 
 people in the uses of the juice of the vine. The 
 vine of the palm trees is very good when it is prep, 
 erly fermented, but it gets insipid in the long run!* 
 
 1 Tirer a cinq, a card game played only for very high stakes.
 
 AWAKENING AT AHAGGAR 127 
 
 It was powerful, that Ahaggar 1880. We sipped 
 It from large silver goblets. It was fresh as Rhine 
 wine, dry as the wine of the Hermitage. And then, 
 suddenly, it brought back recollections of the burn- 
 ing wines of 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 of cakes, pancakes 
 served with honey, fragrant fritters, cheese-cakes of 
 sour milk and dates. And everywhere, in great 
 enamel platters or wicker jars, fruit, masses of fruit, 
 figs, dates, pistachios, jujubes, pomegranates, apri- 
 cots, huge bunches of grapes, larger than those which 
 bent the shoulders of the Hebrews in the land of 
 Canaan, heavy watermelons cut in two, showing their 
 moist, red pulp and their rows of black seeds. 
 
 I had scarcely finished one of these beautiful 
 iced fruits, when M. Le Mesge rose. 
 
 "Gentlemen, If you are ready," he said to Mor- 
 hange and me. 
 
 "Get away from that old dotard as soon as you 
 can," whispered the Hetman of Jitomir to me. 
 "The party of Trente et Ouarantc will begin soon. 
 You shall see. You shall see. We go it even harder 
 than at Cora Pearl's." 
 
 "Gentlemen," repeated M. Lc Mc«gc in his dry 
 tone.
 
 128 ATLANTIDA 
 
 We followed him. When the three of us were 
 back again in the library, he said, addressing mc : 
 
 "You, sir, asked a little while ago what occult 
 power holds you here. Your manner was threaten- 
 ing, and I should have refused to comply had it not 
 been for your friend, whose knowledge enables him 
 to appreciate better than you the value of the reve- 
 lations I am about to make to you." 
 
 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 a woman. This woman, the sultan- 
 ess, the queen, the absolute sovereign of Ahaggar, 
 is called Antinea. Don't start, M. Morhange, you 
 will soon understand." 
 
 He opened the book and read this sentence: 
 
 " 'I must warn you before I take up the subject 
 matter: do not be surprised to hear me call the bar- 
 barians by Greek names,' 
 
 'What is that book?" stammered Morhange, 
 whose pallor terrified me. 
 
 "This book," M. Le Mesge replied very slowly, 
 weighing his words, with an extraordinary expres- 
 sion of triumph, "is the greatest, the most beautiful, 
 the most secret, of the dialogues of Plato; it is the 
 Critias of Atlantis." 
 
 "The Critias? But it is unfinished," murmured 
 Morhange.
 
 AWAKENING AT AHAGGAR 129 
 
 "It is unlinished in I'Vance, in Europe, everywhere 
 else," said M. Le Mesge, ''but it is finished here. 
 Look for yourself at this copy." 
 
 "But what connection," repeated Morhangc, while 
 his eyes traveled avidly over the pages, "what con- 
 nection can there be between this dialogue, complete, 
 — yes, it seems to me complete — what connection 
 with this woman, Antinea? Why should it be in her 
 possession?" 
 
 "Because," replied the little man imperturbably, 
 "this book is her patent of nobility, her Almanack 
 de Gotha, in a sense, do you understand? Because 
 it established her prodigious genealogy: because she 
 is . . ." 
 
 "Because she is?" repeated Morhange. 
 
 "Because she is the grand daughter of Neptune, 
 the last descendant of the Atlantides."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ATLANTIS 
 
 M. Le Mesge looked at Morhange triumphantly. 
 It was evident that he addressed himself exclusively 
 to Morhange, considering him alone worthy of his 
 confidences. 
 
 "There have been many, sir," he said, "both 
 French and foreign officers who have been brought 
 here at the caprice of our sovereign, Antinea. You 
 are the first to be honored by my disclosures. But 
 you were the pupil of Berlioux, and I owe so much 
 to the memory of that great man that it seems to me 
 I may do him homage by imparting to one of 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." 
 
 130
 
 ATLANTIS 131 
 
 I have always had a horror of that pale tobacco 
 which gives a barber of the Rue de la Michodiere 
 the illusion of oriental voluptuousness. But, in their 
 way, these musk-sccnted cigarettes were not bad, and 
 it was a long time since I had used up my stock of 
 Caporal. 
 
 "Here are the back numbers of Le Vie Par'ts- 
 ienne," said M. Le Mesge to me. "Amuse yourself 
 with them, if you like, while I talk to your friend." 
 
 "Sir," I replied brusquely, "it is true that I never 
 studied with Berlioux. Nevertheless, you must al- 
 low me to listen to your conversation: 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 the desk, shot his cuffs, and com- 
 menced as follows : 
 
 "However much, gentlemen, I prize complete ob- 
 jectivity in matters of erudition, I cannot utterly de- 
 tach my own history from that of the last descend- 
 ant of Clito and Neptune. 
 
 "I am the creation of my own efforts. From my 
 childhood, the prodigious impulse given to the science 
 of history by the nineteenth century has affected me. 
 I saw w^here my way led. I have followed it, in 
 spite of everything. 
 
 "In spite of everything, everything — I mean it 
 literally. With no other resources than my own 
 work and merit, T was received as Fellow of History
 
 132 ATLANTIDA 
 
 and Geography at the examination of 1880. A 
 great examination! Among the thirteen who were 
 accepted there were names which have since become 
 illustrious: Julian, Bourgeois, Auerbach. . . .- I do 
 not envy my colleagues on the summits of their of- 
 ficial honors; I read their works with commiseration; 
 and the pitiful errors to which they are condemned 
 by the insufficiency of their documents would amply 
 counterbalance my chagrin and fill me with ironic 
 joy, had I not been raised long since above the satis- 
 faction of self-love. 
 
 "When I was Professor at the Lycee du Pare at 
 Lyons. I knew Berlloux and followed eagerly his 
 works on African History. I had, at that time, a 
 very original idea for my doctor's thesis. I was go- 
 ing to establish a parallel between the Berber heroine 
 of the seventh century, who struggled against the 
 Arab invader, Kahena, and the French heroine, Joan 
 of Arc, who struggled against the English invader. 
 I proposed to the Faculte des Lettres at Paris this 
 title for my thesis : Joan of Arc and the Tuareg. 
 This simple announcement gave rise to a perfect out- 
 cry in learned circles, a furor of ridicule. My friends 
 warned me discreetly. I refused to believe them. 
 Finally I was forced to believe when my rector sum- 
 moned me before him and, after manifesting an as- 
 tonishing interest in my health, asked whether I 
 should object to taking two years' leave on half pay. 
 I refused Indignantly. The rector did not insist;
 
 ATLANTIS 131 
 
 but fifteen days later, a ministerial decree, with no 
 other legal procedure, assigned me to one of the 
 most insignificant and remote Lycees of France, at 
 Mont-de-Marsan. 
 
 "Realize my exasperation and you will exxuse the 
 excesses to which I delivered myself in that strange 
 country. What is there to do in Landes, if you 
 neither eat nor drink? I did both violently. My 
 pay melted away in fois gras, in woodcocks. In fine 
 wines. The result came quickly enough : in less than 
 a year my joints began to crack like the over-oiled 
 axle of a bicycle that has gone a long way upon a 
 dusty track. A sharp attack of gout nailed me to 
 my bed. Fortunately, in that blessed country, the 
 cure is In reach of the suffering. So I departed to 
 Dax, at vacation time, to try the waters. 
 
 "I rented a room on the bank of the Adour, over- 
 looking the Promenade des Baignots. A charwoman 
 took care of it for me. She worked also for an old 
 gentleman, a retired Examining Magistrate, Presi- 
 dent of the Roger-Ducos Society, which was a vague 
 scientific backwater, In which the scholars of the 
 neighborhood applied themselves with prodigious 
 incompetence to the most whimsical subjects. One 
 afternoon I stayed In my room on account of a 
 very heavy rain. The good woman was energetic- 
 ally polishing the copper latch of my door. She 
 used a paste called Tripoli, which she spread upon 
 a paper and rubbed and rubbed. . . . The peculiar
 
 134 ATLANTIDA 
 
 appearance of the paper made me curious. I glanced 
 at it. 'Great heavens ! Where did you get this 
 paper?' She was perturbed. *At my master's; he 
 has lots of it. I tore this out of a notebook.' 'Here 
 are ten francs. Go and get me the notebook.' 
 
 "A quarter of an hour later, she was back with it. 
 By good luck it lacked only one page, the one with 
 which she had been polishing my door. This manu- 
 script, 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 often heard Berlioux de- 
 plore.^ 
 
 "This inestimable document contained numerous 
 quotations from the Critias, It gave an abstract of 
 the illustrious dialogue, the sole existing copy of 
 which you held in your hands a little while ago. It 
 established past controversy the location of the 
 stronghold of the Atlantides, and demonstrated that 
 this site, which is denied by science, was not sub- 
 merged by the waves, as is supposed by the rare and 
 timorous defenders of the Atlantide hypothesis. He 
 called it the 'central Mazycian range.' You know 
 there is no longer any doubt as to the identification 
 
 1 How did the Voyage to Atlantis arrive at Dax? I have 
 
 found, so far, only one credible hypothesis : it might have been 
 
 discovered in Africa by the traveller, de Behagle, a member of 
 
 the Roger-Ducos Society, who studied at the college of Dax, 
 
 and later, on several occasions, visited the town. (Note by 
 M. Leroux.)
 
 ATLANTIS 135 
 
 of the Mazyces of Herodotus with the people of 
 Imoschaoch, the Tuareg. But the manuscript of 
 Denys unquestionably identifies the historical Mazy- 
 ces with the Atlantides of the supposed legend. 
 
 "I learned, therefore, from Denys, not only that 
 the central part of Atlantis, the cradle and home of 
 the dynasty of Neptune, had not sunk in the disaster 
 described by Plato as engulfing the rest of the At- 
 lantide isle, but also that it corresponded to the 
 Tuareg Ahaggar, and that, in this Ahaggar, at least 
 in his time, the noble dynasty of Neptime was sup- 
 posed to be still existent. 
 
 "The historians of Atlantis put the date of the 
 cataclysm which destroyed all or part of that fam- 
 ous country at nine thousand years before Christ. 
 If Denis de Milet, who wrote scarcely three thousand 
 years ago, believed that in his time, the dynastic 
 issue of Neptune was still ruling its dominion, you 
 will understand that I thought immediately — what 
 has lasted nine thousand years may last eleven thou- 
 sand. From that instant I had only one aim : to find 
 the possible descendants of the Atlantides, and, since 
 I had many reasons for supposing 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 to my superiors at the University. 
 To solicit their approval or e\'en their permission, 
 considering the attitude they had taken toward me,
 
 136 ATLANTIDA 
 
 would have been almost certainly to invite confine- 
 ment in a cell. So I raised what I could on my own 
 account, and departed without trumpet or drum for 
 Oran. On the first of October I reached In-Salah. 
 Stretched at my ease beneath a palm tree, at the 
 oasis, I took infinite pleasure in considering how, 
 that very day, the principal of Mont-de-Marsan, be- 
 side himself, struggling to control twenty horrible 
 urchins howling before the door of an empty class 
 room, would be telegraphing wildly in 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 had steadily assumed of talking only 
 to Morhange. 
 
 "You will pardon me, sir, if your discourse inter- 
 ests me more than I had anticipated. But you know 
 very well that I lack the fundamental instruction 
 necessary to understand you. You speak of the 
 dynasty of Neptune, What is this dynasty, from 
 which, I believe, you trace the descent of Antinea? 
 What is her role in the story of Atlantis?" 
 
 M. Le Mesge smiled with condescension, mean- 
 time winking at Morhange with the eye nearest to 
 him. Morhange was listening without expression, 
 without a word, chin in hand, elbow on knee. 
 
 "Plato will answer for me, sir," said the Pro- 
 fessor.
 
 ATLANTIS 137 
 
 And he added, with an accent of inexpressible pity : 
 
 "Is it really possible tbat you have never made 
 the acquaintance of the introduction to the Critias?" 
 
 He placed on the table the book by which Mor- 
 hange had been so strangely moved. He adjusted 
 his spectacles and began to read. It seemed as if 
 the magic of Plato vibrated through and transfig- 
 ured this ridiculous little old man. 
 
 " 'Having drawn by lot the different parts of the 
 earth, the gods obtained, some a larger, and some, 
 a smaller share. It was thus that Neptune, having 
 received in the division the isle of Atlantis, came to 
 place 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 the isle, the most beautiful, 
 and, they say, the most fertile of plains. About fifty 
 stades from that plain, in the middle of the isle, was 
 a mountain. There dwelt one of those men who, in 
 the very beginning, was born of the Earth, Evenor, 
 with his wife, Leucippo. They had only one daugh- 
 ter, Clito. She was marriageable when her mother 
 and father died, and Neptune, being enamored of 
 her, married her. Neptune fortified the mountain 
 where she dwelt by isolating it. He made alternate 
 girdles of sea and land, the one smaller, the others 
 greater, two of earth and three of water, and cen- 
 tered them round the isle in such a manner that they 
 were at all parts equally distant! . . ." 
 
 M, le Mesge broke oft his reading.
 
 138 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "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 arriving 
 at this mountain? . . . The girdles of earth and of 
 water? . . . Two tunnels, two enclosures of earth?" 
 
 "Ha ! Ha !" chuckled M. Le Mesge. 
 
 He smiled as he looked at me. I understood that 
 this smile meant: "Can he 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 of water. . . . But then, you are 
 supposing, sir, — an explanation the ingeniousness of 
 which I do not contest — you are supposing the exact 
 hypothesis of the Saharan sea !" 
 
 "I suppose it, and I can prove it," replied the iras- 
 cible little old chap, banging his fist on the table. 
 "I know well enough what Schirmer and the rest 
 have advanced against it. I know it better than 
 you do. I know all about it, sir. I can present all 
 the proofs for your consideration. And in the mean- 
 time, this evening at dinner, you will no doubt en- 
 joy some excellent fish. And you will tell me if these 
 fish, caught in the lake that you can see from this 
 window, seem to you fresh water fish. 
 
 "You must realize," he continued more calmly,
 
 ATLANTIS 139 
 
 *the mistake of those who, believing In Atlantis, 
 have sought to explain the cataclysm in which they 
 suppose the whole Island to have sunk. Without 
 exception, tliey have thought that it was swallowed 
 up. Actually, there has not been an immersion. 
 There has been an emersion. New lands ha\e 
 emerged from the Atlantic wave. The desert has 
 replaced the sea, the sebkhas, the salt lakes, the 
 Triton lakes, the sandy Syrtes are the desolate ves- 
 tiges of the free sea water over which, In former 
 days, the fleets swept with a fair wind towards the 
 conquest of Attica. Sand swallows up civilization 
 better than water. To-day there remains nothing of 
 the beautiful isle that the sea and winds kept gay and 
 verdant but this chalky mass. Nothing has endured 
 in this rocky basin, cut off forever from the living 
 world, but the marvelous oasis that you have at your 
 feet, these red fruits, this cascade, this blue lake, 
 sacred witnesses to the golden age that Is gone. Last 
 evening. In coming here, you had to cross the five 
 enclosures: the three belts of water, dry forever; 
 the two girdles of earth through which are hollowed 
 the passages you traversed on camel back, where, 
 formerly, the triremes floated. The only thing that, 
 In this Immense catastrophe, has preserved Its like- 
 ness to its former state. Is this mountain, the moun- 
 tain where Neptune shut up his well-beloved Clito, 
 the daughter of Evenor and Leucippe, the mother 
 of Atlas, and the ancestress of Antinea, the sover-
 
 I40 ATLANTIDA 
 
 eign under whose dominion you are about to enter 
 forever." 
 
 "Sir," said Morhange with the most exquisite 
 courtesy, "it would be only a natural anxiety which 
 would urge us to inquire the reasons and the end of 
 this dominion. But behold to what extent your reve- 
 lation interests me; I defer this question of private 
 interest. Of late, in two caverns, it has been my 
 fortune to discover Tifinar inscriptions of this name, 
 Antinea. My comrade is witness that I took it for 
 a Greek name. I understand now, thanks to you and 
 the divine Plato, that I need no longer feel sur- 
 prised to hear a barbarian called by a Greek name. 
 But I am no less perplexed as to the etymology of 
 the word. Can you enlighten me?" 
 
 "I shall certainly not fail you there, sir," said M. 
 Le Mesge. "I may tell you, too, that you are not the 
 first to put to me that question. Most of the explor- 
 ers that I have seen enter here in the past ten years 
 have been attracted in the same way, intrigued by 
 this Greek work reproduced in Tifinar. I have even 
 arranged a fairly exact catalogue of these inscrip- 
 tions and the caverns where they are to be met with. 
 All, or almost all, are accompanied by this legend: 
 Antinea. Here commences her domain. I myself 
 have had repainted with ochre such as were begin- 
 ning to be effaced. But, to return to what I was 
 telling you before, none of the Europeans who have 
 followed this epigraphic mystery here, have kept
 
 ATLANTIS 141 
 
 their anxiety to solve this etymology once they found 
 themselves in Antinca's palace. They all become 
 otherwise preoccupied. I might make many dis- 
 closures as to the little real importance which purely 
 scientific interests possess even for scholars, and the 
 quickness with which they sacrifice them to the most 
 mundane considerations, — their own lives, for in- 
 stance." 
 
 "Let us take that up another time, sir, if it is sat- 
 isfactory to you," said Morhange, always admirably 
 polite. 
 
 "This digression had only one point, sir: to show 
 you that I do not count you among these unworthy 
 scholars. You are really eager to know the origin 
 of this name, Antinea, and that before knowing what 
 kind of woman it belongs to and her motives for 
 holding you and this gentleman as her prisoners." 
 
 I stared hard at the little old man. But he spoke 
 with profound seriousness. 
 
 "So much the better for you, my boy," I thought. 
 "Otherwise It wouldn't have taken me long to send 
 you through the window to air your ironies at your 
 case. The law of gravity ought not to be topsy- 
 turvy here at Ahaggar." 
 
 "You, no doubt, formulated several hypotheses 
 when you first encountered the name, Antinea," con- 
 tinued M. Le Mesge, imperturbable under my fixed 
 gaze, addressing himself to Morhange. "Would 
 you object to repeating them to me?"
 
 142 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "Not at all, sir," said Morhange. 
 
 And, very composedly, he enumerated the ety- 
 mological suggestions I have given previously. 
 
 The little man with the cherry-colored shirt front 
 rubbed his hands. 
 
 "Ver}^ good," he admitted with an accent of intense 
 jubilation. "Amazingly good, at least for one with 
 only the modicum of Greek that you 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, Antlnea, is composed as 
 follows: ti is nothing but a Tlfinar addition to an 
 essentially Greek name. Ti is the Berber feminine 
 article. We have several examples of this combina- 
 tion. Take Tipasa, the North African town. The 
 name means the whole, from ti and from vaTr, 
 So, tinea signifies the new, from ti and from ea." 
 
 "And the prefix anT* queried Morhange. 
 
 "Is it possible, sir, that I have put myself to the 
 trouble of talking to you for a solid hour about the 
 Critias with such trifling effect? It is certain that 
 the prefix an, alone, has no meaning. You will 
 understand that it has one, when I tell you that we 
 have here a very curious case of apocope. You must 
 not read an; you must read atlan. Atl has been lost, 
 by apocope; an has survived. To sum up, Antinea 
 is composed in the following manner: I ri-vea —
 
 ATLANTIS 143 
 
 oltX *Au. And its meaning, the new Atlantis, 
 is dazzlingly apparent from this demonstration." 
 
 I looked at Morhange. Mis astonishment was 
 without bonnds. The Berber prefix // had literally 
 stunned him. 
 
 "Have you had occasion, sir, to verify this very 
 ingenious et)anology?" he was finally able to gasp 
 out. 
 
 "You have only to glance over these few books," 
 said M. Le Mesge disdainfully. 
 
 He opened successively five, ten, twenty cup- 
 boards. An enormous library was spread out to our 
 view. 
 
 "Everything, everything — it is all here," mur- 
 mured Morhange, with an astonishing 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 deplores to-day." 
 
 "And how has it happened?" 
 
 "Sir, you distress me. I thought you familiar with 
 certain events. You are forgetting, then, the passage 
 where Pliny the Elder speaks of the library of Carth- 
 age and the treasures which were accumulated there? 
 In 146, when that city fell under the blows of the 
 knave, Scipio, the incredible collection of illiterates 
 who bore the nam.e of the Roman Senate had only 
 the profoundest contempt for these riches. They 
 presented them to the native kings. This is how
 
 144 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Mantabal received this priceless heritage; It was 
 transmitted to his son and grandson, Hiempsal, Juba 
 I, Juba II, the husband of the admirable Cleopatra 
 Selene, the daughter of the great Cleopatra and 
 Mark Antony. Cleopatra Selene had a daughter 
 who married an Atlantide king. This is how An- 
 tinea, the daughter of Neptune, counts among her 
 ancestors the immortal queen of Egypt. That is 
 how, by following the laws of Inheritance, the re- 
 mains of the library of Carthage, enriched by the 
 remnants of the librar)'- of Alexandria, are actually 
 before your eyes. 
 
 "Science fled from man. While he was building 
 those monstrous Babels of pseudo-science in Berlin, 
 London, Paris, Science was taking refuge in this 
 desert corner of Ahaggar. They may well forge 
 their hypotheses back 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 traditions which inspired Solon, Herodotus 
 and Plato. Here, the Greek mythologists, the ma- 
 gicians of Roman Africa, the Indian mystics, all the 
 treasures, in a word, for the lack of which contem- 
 porary dissertations are poor laughable things. Be- 
 lieve me, he is well avenged, the little unlversitarian 
 whom they took for a madman, whom they defied. 
 I have lived, I live, I shall live in a perpetual burst 
 of laughter at their false and garbled erudition.
 
 ATLANTIS 145 
 
 And when I shall be dead, Error, — thanks to the 
 jealous precaution of Neptune taken to isolate his 
 well-beloved Clito from the rest of the world, — 
 Error, I say, will continue to reign as sovereign mis- 
 tress over their pitiful compositions." 
 
 "Sir," said Morhange in a grave voice, "you have 
 just affirmed the influence of Egypt on the civiliza- 
 tions of the people here. P'or reasons which some 
 day, perhaps, I shall have occasion to explain to you, 
 I would like to have proof of that relationship." 
 
 "We need not wait for that, sir," said M. Lc 
 Mesge. Then, in my turn, I advanced. 
 
 "Two words, if you please, sir," I said brutally. 
 "I will not hide from you that these historical dis- 
 cussions seem to me absolutely out of place. It is 
 not my fault if you have had trouble with the Uni- 
 versity, and if you are not to-day at the College of 
 France or elsewhere. For the moment, just one thing 
 concerns me : to know just what this lady, Antinea, 
 wants with us. My comrade would like to know her 
 relation with ancient Egypt: very well. For my 
 part, I desire above everything to know her rela- 
 tions with the government of Algeria and the 
 Arabian Bureau." 
 
 M. Le Mesge gave a strident laugh. 
 
 "I am going to give you an answer that will sat- 
 isfy you both," he replied. 
 
 And he added: 
 
 "Follow me. It is time that you should learn."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE RED MARBLE HALL 
 
 We passed through an interminable series of 
 stairs and corridors following M. Le Mesge. 
 
 "You lose all sense of direction in this labyrinth," 
 I muttered to Morhange. 
 
 • "Worse still, you will lose your head," answered 
 my companion sotto voce. "This old fool is cer- 
 tainly very learned; but God knows what he is driv- 
 ing at. However, he has promised that we are soon 
 to know." 
 
 M. Le Mesge had stopped before a heavy dark 
 door, all incrusted with strange 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 were entering 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 copper lamps, placed 
 column-like upon the ground and burning with bril- 
 liant red flames. As we entered, the wind from the 
 
 146
 
 THE RED MARBLE HALE 147 
 
 corridor made the flames flicker, momentarily cast- 
 ing about us our own enlarged and misshapen shad- 
 ows. 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 arranged in a kind of crown, the diam- 
 eter of which must have been about fifty feet. In 
 the center of this circle wis a dark mass, all streaked 
 with trembling red reflections. When I drew nearer, 
 I saw it was a bubbling fountain. It was the fresh- 
 ness of this water which had maintained the tem- 
 perature of which I have spoken. 
 
 Eluge seats were cut in the central rock from which 
 gushed the murmuring, shadowy fountain. They 
 were heaped with silky cushions. Twelve incense 
 burners, within the circle of red lamps, formed a 
 second crown, half as large in diameter. Their 
 smoke mounted toward the vault, invisible in the 
 darkness, but their perfume, combined with the cool- 
 ness and sound of the water, banished from the soul 
 all other desire than to remain there forever. 
 
 M. Le Mesge made us sit down in the center of 
 the hall, on the Cyclopean seats. He seated himself 
 between us. 
 
 "In a few minutes," he said, "your eyes will grow 
 accustomed to the obscurity." 
 
 I noticed that he spoke in a hushed voice, as if he 
 were in church.
 
 148 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Little by little, our eyes did indeed grow used to 
 the red light. Only the lower part of the great hall 
 was illuminated. The whole vault was drowned 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 no means of 
 judging the length of the chain by which it hung 
 from the dark ceiling. 
 
 The marble of the pavement was of so high a 
 polish, that the great torches were reflected even 
 there. 
 
 This room, I repeat, was round a perfect cir- 
 cle of which the fountain at our backs was the 
 center. 
 
 We sat facing the curving walls. Before long, 
 we began to be able to see them. They were of 
 peculiar construction, divided into a series of niches, 
 broken, ahead of us, by the door which had just 
 opened to give us passage, behind us, by a second 
 door, a still darker hole which I divined in the dark- 
 ness when I turned around. From one door to the 
 other, I counted sixty niches, making, in all, one 
 hundred and twenty. Each was about ten feet high. 
 Each contained a kind of case, larger above than be- 
 low, closed only at the lower end. In all these cases, 
 except two just opposite me, I thought I could dis- 
 cern a brilliant shape, a human shape certainly, some- 
 thing like a statue of very pale bronze. In the arc
 
 THE RED M A R B L E 1 1 A L L 149 
 
 of the circle before me, I counted clearly 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 becoming more 
 and more distinct. 
 
 It opened quietly to admit three Tuareg slaves. 
 Two of them were carrying a long package on their 
 shoulders; the third seemed to be their chief. 
 
 At a sign from him, they placed the package on 
 the ground and drew out from one of the niches the 
 case which it contained. 
 
 "You may approach, gentlemen," said M. Le 
 Mesge. 
 
 He motioned the three Tuareg to withdraw sev- 
 eral paces. 
 
 "You asked me, not long since, for some proof 
 of the Egyptian influence on this country," said M. 
 Le Mesge. "What do you say to that case, to be- 
 gin with?" 
 
 As he spoke, he pointed to the case that the ser- 
 vants had deposited upon the ground after they took 
 it from its niche. 
 
 Morhange uttered a thick cry.
 
 150 ATLANTIDA 
 
 We had before us one of those cases designed 
 for the preservation of mummies. The same shiny 
 wood, the same bright decorations, the only differ- 
 ence being that here Tifinar writing replaced the 
 hieroglyphics. The form, narrow at the base, 
 broader above, ought to have been enough to en- 
 lighten us. 
 
 I have already said that the lower half of this 
 large case was closed, giving the whole structure the 
 appearance of a rectangular wooden shoe. 
 
 M. Le Mesge knelt and fastened on the lower 
 part of the case, a square of white cardboard, a 
 large label, that he had picked up from his desk, 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 scarcely sufficient to read the label where, 
 none the less, I recognized the Professor's hand- 
 writing. 
 
 It bore these few words, In a large round hand: 
 
 "Number 53. Major Sir Archibald Russell. 
 Born at Richmond, July 5, i860. 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 loud here." 
 
 "The Major Russell," I repeated, obeying his in-
 
 THE RED MARBLE HALL 151 
 
 junction as if in spite of 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 ap- 
 proached. 
 
 A poignant silence reigned in the mysterious hall, 
 broken only by the fresh splashing of the fountain. 
 
 The three negroes were occupied In undoln^; the 
 package that they had put down near the painted 
 case. Weighed down with wordless horror, Mor- 
 hange and I stood watching. 
 
 Soon, a rigid form, a human foiTn, appeared. A 
 red gleam played over it. We had before us, 
 stretched out upon the ground, a statue of pale 
 bronze, wrapped In a kind of white veil, a statue like 
 those all around us, upright in their niches. It 
 seemed to fix us with an impenetrable gaze. 
 
 "Sir Archibald Russell," murmured M. Le Mesge 
 slowly. 
 
 Morhange approached, speechless, but strong 
 enough to lift up the white veil. For a long, long 
 time he gazed at the sad bronze statue. 
 
 "A mummy, a mummy?" he said finally. "You 
 deceive yourself, sir, this Is no mummy." 
 
 "Accurately speaking, no," replied M. Le Mesge. 
 "This is not a mummy. None the less, you have be- 
 fore you the mortal remains of Sir Archibald Rus-
 
 152 ATLANTIDA 
 
 sell. I must point out to you, here, my dear sir, that 
 the processes of embalming used by Antinea differ 
 from the processes employed in ancient Egypt. 
 Here, there is no natron, nor bands, nor spices. The 
 industry of Ahaggar, in a single effort, has achieved 
 a result obtained by European science only after long 
 experiments. Imagine my surprise, when I arrived 
 here and found that they were employing a method 
 I supposed known only to the civilized world." 
 
 M. Le Mesge struck a light tap with his finger 
 on the forehead of Sir Archibald 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. Bronze is darker, sir. This is the great 
 unknown metal of which Plato speaks in the Critias, 
 and which is something between gold and silver : it 
 is the special metal of the mountains of the Atlan- 
 tides. It is orichalch." 
 
 Bending again, I satisfied myself that this metal 
 was the same as that with which the walls of the li- 
 brary were overcast. 
 
 "It is orichalch," continued M. Le Mesge. "You 
 look as if you had no idea how a human body can 
 look like a statue of orichalch. Come, Captain Mor- 
 hange, you whom I gave credit for a certain amount 
 of knowledge, have you never heard of the method
 
 THE RED MARBLE HALL 153 
 
 of Dr. Variot, by which a human body can be pre- 
 served without embalming? Have you never read 
 the book of that practitioner?^ He explains a 
 method called electro-plating. The skin is coated 
 with a very thin layer of silver salts, 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 of this estimable English major 
 has been metalized in the same manner, except that 
 a solution of orichalch sulphate, a very rare sub- 
 stance, has been substituted for that of copper sul- 
 phate. Thus, instead of the statue of a poor slave, 
 a copper statue, you have before you a statue of 
 metal more precious than silver or gold, in a word, 
 a statue worthy of the granddaughter of Neptune." 
 
 M. Le Mesge waved his arm. The black slaves 
 seized the body. In a few seconds, they slid the ori- 
 chalch ghost into Its painted wooden sheath. That 
 was set on end and slid into its niche, beside the niche 
 where an exactly similar sheath was labelled "Num- 
 ber 52." 
 
 Upon finishing their task, they retired without a 
 word. A draught of cold air from the door again 
 made the flames of the copper torches flicker and 
 threw great shadows about us. 
 
 Morhange and I remained as motionless as the 
 pale metal specters which surrounded us. Suddenly 
 
 ^Variot: L'anthropohgie gah'aniquc. Paris, l8cx). (Note by 
 M. Leroux.)
 
 154 ' ATLANTIDA 
 
 I pulled myself together and staggered forward to 
 the niche beside that in which they just had laid the 
 remains of the 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 Morhahge. "He 
 left Colomb-Bechar in 1895 for 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 von Wittman, born at Jena in 1855. 
 Died at Ahaggar, May I, 1896. . . . Colonel Witt- 
 man, the explorer of Kanem, who disappeared off 
 Agades." 
 
 "Exactly," said M. Le Mesge again. 
 
 "Number 50," I read in my turn, steadying my- 
 self against the wall, so as not to fall. "Marquis 
 Alonzo d'Oliveira, born at Cadiz, February 21, 
 1868. Died at Ahaggar, February i, 1896. Oliv- 
 eira, who was going to Araouan." 
 
 "Exactly," said M. Le Mesge again. "That Span- 
 iard was one of the best educated. I used to have 
 interesting discussions with him on the exact geo- 
 graphical position of the kingdom of Antee."
 
 THE RED MARBLE HALL 155 
 
 "Number 49," said Morhanpe in a tone scarcely 
 more than a whisper. "Lieutenant Woodhouse. 
 born at Liverpool, September 16, 1870. Died at 
 Ahaggar, October 4, 1895." 
 
 "Hardly more than a child," said M. Le Mesgc. 
 
 "Number 48," I said. "Lieutenant Louis de 
 Maillefeu, born at Provins, the . . ." 
 
 I did not finish. My voice choked. 
 
 Louis de ALiillefeu, my best friend, the friend of 
 my childhood and of Saint-Cyr. ... I looked at 
 him and recognized him under the metallic coating. 
 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 to 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 Lieutenant Woodhouse, like Captain Deligne, 
 like Major Russell, like Colonel van Wittman, like 
 the forty-seven of yesterday and all those of to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 "Of what did they die?" Morhange demanded 
 imperatively In his turn.
 
 156 ATLANTIDA 
 
 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, Morhange 
 and I found ourselves again seated, or rather sunk 
 among the cushions in the center of the room. The 
 invisible fountain murmured its plaint at our feet. 
 
 Le Mesge sat between us. 
 
 "Now you know," he repeated. "You know, but 
 you do not yet understand." 
 
 Then, very slowly, he said: 
 
 "You are, as they hav^e been, the prisoners of 
 Antinea. And vengeance is due Antinea." 
 
 "Vengeance?" said Morhange, who had regained 
 his self-possession. "For what, 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 replied gravely. "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 mat- 
 ter lies there." 
 
 "Really, sir, I do not see . . . we do not see."
 
 THE RED M A R B L E H ALL 157 
 
 "You are going to understand. Have you really 
 forgotten to what an extent the beautiful queens of 
 antiquity had just cause to complain of the strangers 
 whom fortune brought to their borders? The poet, 
 Victor Hugo, pictured their detestable acts well 
 enough in his colonial poem called la Fillc d'0-Taiti. 
 Wherever we look, we see similar examples of 
 fraud and ingratitude. These gentlemen made free 
 use of the beauty and the riches of the lady. Then, 
 one fine morning, they disappeared. She was in- 
 deed lucky if her lover, having observed the position 
 carefully, 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 cavalier fashion in which Ulysses 
 treated Calypso, Diomedes Callirhoe. What should 
 I say of Theseus and Ariadne? Jason treated 
 Medea with inconceivable lightness. The Romans 
 continued the tradition with still greater brutality. 
 Aenaeus, who has many characteristics in common 
 with the Reverend Spardek, treated Dido in a most 
 undeserved fashion. Caesar was a laurel-crowned 
 blackguard in his relations with the divine Cleo- 
 patra. Titus, that hypocrite Titus, after having 
 lived a whole year in Idummea at the expense of the 
 plaintive Berenice, took her back to Rome only to 
 make game of her. It is time that the sons of Japhet
 
 158 ATLANTIDA 
 
 paid this formidable reckoning of injuries to the 
 daughters of Shem. 
 
 "A woman has taken it upon herself to re-estab- 
 lish the great Hegelian law of equilibrium for the 
 benefit of her sex. Separated from the Aryan world 
 by the formidable precautions of Neptune, she 
 draws the youngest and bravest to her. Her body 
 is condescending, while her spirit is inexorable. She 
 takes what these bold young men can give her. She 
 lends them her body, while her soul dominates them. 
 She is the first sovereign who has never been made 
 the slave of passion, even for a moment. She has 
 never been obliged to regain her self-mastery, for 
 she never ihas lost it. She is the only woman who 
 has been able to disassociate 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 burn- 
 ing when she knew them. Then, after dreaming 
 before the empty niche where the next victim soon 
 will sleep his eternal sleep in a cold case of orichalch, 
 she returns nonchalantly where he is waiting for 
 her." 
 
 The Professor stopped speaking. The fountain 
 again made itself heard in the midst of the shadow. 
 My pulses beat, my head seemed on fire. A fever 
 was consuming me.
 
 THE RED M A R B L E H A L L 1 59 
 
 "And all of them," I cried, regardless of the 
 place, "all of them complied! They submitted! 
 Well, she has only to come and she will see what 
 will happen." 
 
 Morhange was silent. 
 
 "My dear sir," said M. Le Mesge in a very gentle 
 voice, "you are speaking like a child. You do not 
 know. You ha\'e not seen Antinea. Let me tell 
 you one thing: that among those" — and with a 
 sweeping gesture he Indicated the silent circle of 
 statues — "there were men as courageous as you and 
 perhaps less excitable. I remember one of them 
 especially well, a phlegmatic Englishman who now 
 Is resting under Number 32. When he first ap- 
 peared before Antinea, he was smoking a cigar. 
 And, like all the rest, he bent before the gaze of his 
 sovereign. 
 
 "Do not speak until you have seen her. A uni- 
 versity training hardly fits one to discourse upon 
 matters of passion, and I feel scarcely qualified, my- 
 self, 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 re- 
 nounce 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.
 
 i6o ATLANTIDA 
 
 "In any case, you will see." 
 
 The door opened. A tall white Targa, the tallest 
 we had yet seen in this remarkable abode, entered 
 and came toward us. 
 
 He bowed and touched me lightly on the shoulder. 
 
 'Tollow him," said M. Le Mesge. 
 
 Without a word, I obeyed.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 ANTINEA 
 
 My guide and I passed along another long cor- 
 ridor. My excitement increased. I was impatient 
 for one thing only, to come face to face with that 
 woman, to tell her ... So far as anything else 
 was concerned, I already was done for. 
 
 I was mistaken in hoping that the adventure would 
 take an heroic turn at once. In real life, these con- 
 trasts never are definitely marked out. I should 
 have remembered from many past incidents that the 
 burlesque was regularly mixed with the tragic in my 
 life. 
 
 We reached a little transparent door. My guide 
 stood aside to let me pass. 
 
 I found myself in the most luxurious of dressing- 
 rooms. A ground glass ceiling diffused a gay rosy 
 light over the marble floor. The first thing I no- 
 ticed was a clock, fastened to the wall. In place of 
 the figures for the hours, were the signs of the 
 Zodiac. The small hand had not yet reached the 
 sign of Capricorn. 
 
 i6i
 
 i62 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Only three oVlcick ! 
 
 The day seemed to have lasted a century al- 
 ready. . . . And only a little more 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 into it, I realized that in all 
 decency there was nothing exaggerated in the de- 
 mand. 
 
 My untrimmed beard, the frightful layer of dirt 
 which lay about my eyes and furrowed my cheeks, 
 my clothing, spotted by all the clay of the Sahara 
 and torn by all the thorns of Ahaggar — all this made 
 me appear a pitiable enough suitor. 
 
 I lost no time in undressing and plunging into 
 the porphry bath in the center of the room. A de- 
 licious drowsiness came over me in that perfumed 
 water. A thousand little jars, spread on a costly 
 carved wood dressing-table, danced before my eyes. 
 They were of all sizes and colors, carved in a very 
 transparent kind of jade. The warm humidity of 
 the atmosphere hastened my relaxation. 
 
 I still had strength to think, "The devil take At- 
 lantis and the vault and Le Mesge." 
 
 Then I fell asleep in the bath. 
 
 When I opened my eyes again, the little hand of
 
 ANTINEA 163 
 
 the clock had almost reached the sign of Taurus. 
 Before me, his black hands braced on the edge of the 
 bath, stood a huge negro, bare-faced and bare- 
 armed, his forehead 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 a feather out of the per- 
 fumed water, now of a color on which I shall not 
 dwell. 
 
 In no time at all, I was stretched out on an in- 
 clined 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 a Targa." 
 
 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 agree- 
 able than Le Mesge with his nightmarish erudition. 
 But, on my word, what a recruit he would be for 
 Hamman on the rue des Mathurins!" 
 "Cigarette, sidi?" 
 Without awaiting my reply, he placed a cigarette
 
 i64 ATLAxNTIDA 
 
 between my lips and lighted 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 Im- 
 mensely. He showed his pleasure by giving me 
 great slaps. 
 
 When he had dressed me down sufficiently, he took 
 a little jar from the 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 disap- 
 peared. A stunted old negress entered, dressed in 
 the most tawdry tinsel. She was talkative as a mag- 
 pie, but at first I did not understand a word In the 
 interminable string she unwound, while she took first 
 my hands, then my feet, and polished the nails with 
 determined grimaces. 
 
 Another stroke on the gong. TTie old woman 
 gave place to another negro, grave, this time, and 
 dressed all in white with a knitted skull cap on his 
 oblong head. It was the barber, and a remarkably 
 dexterous one. He quickly trimmed my hair, and, 
 on my word, it was well done. Then, without ask- 
 ing me what style I preferred, he shaved me clean. 
 
 I looked with pleasure at my face, once more 
 visible. 
 
 "Antlnea must like the American type," I thought.
 
 ANTTXTA 165 
 
 "What an affront to the memory of her worthy 
 p;randfather, Neptune!" 
 
 The gay negro entered and i)Iaced a package on 
 the divan. The barber disappeared. I was some- 
 what astonished to obser\e that the package, which 
 my new valet opened carefully, contained a suit of 
 white flannels exactly like those French officers wear 
 in Algeria in summer. 
 
 The wide trousers seemed made to m.y measure. 
 The tunic fitted without a wrinkle, and my aston- 
 ishment was unbounded at observing that it even had 
 two gilt (jcdons, the insignia of my rank, braided on 
 the cuffs. For shoes, there were slippers of red 
 Morocco leather, with gold ornaments. The under- 
 wear, all of silk, seemed to have come straight from 
 the rue de la Paix. 
 
 "Dinner was excellent," I murmured, looking at 
 myself in the mirror with satisfaction. "The apart- 
 ment Is perfectly arranged. Yes, but . . ." 
 
 I could not repress a shudder when I suddenly re- 
 called that room of red marble. 
 
 The clock struck half past four. 
 
 Someone rapped gently on the door. The tall 
 white Targa, who had brought 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
 
 i66 ATLANTIDA 
 
 disturbed, but the warm water had given me a cer- 
 tain feeling of detachment. x\nd above all, more 
 than I wished to admit, I had a growing sense of 
 lively curiosity. If, at that moment, someone had 
 offered to lead me back to the route across the white 
 plain near Shikh-Salah, would I have accepted? 
 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 red marble hall." 
 
 I had no time to linger over this reminiscence. I 
 was suddenly bowled" over, thrown to the ground, 
 as if by a sort of meteor. The corridor was 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 devil- 
 tries are beginning." 
 
 We continued on our way. A glow different from 
 that of the rose night lights soon began to light up 
 the corridor. 
 
 We reached a high bronze door. In which a strange 
 lacy design had been cut in filigree. A clear gong 
 sounded, and the double doors opened part way. 
 The Targa remained in the corridor, closing the 
 doors after me. 
 
 I took a few steps forward mechanically, then 
 paused, rooted to the spot, and rubbed my eyes.
 
 ANTINEA 167 
 
 I was dazzled by the sight of the sky. 
 
 Sev*eral hours of shaded hght had unaccustomed 
 me to daylight. It poured in through one whole side 
 of the huge room. 
 
 The room was in the lower part of this mountain, 
 which was more honeycombed with corridors and 
 passages than an Eg)'ptian pyramid. It was on a 
 level with the garden which I had seen in the morn- 
 ing from the balcony, and seemed to be a continua- 
 tion of it; the carpet extended out under the great 
 palm trees and the birds flew about the forest of 
 pillars in the room. 
 
 By contrast, the half of the room untouched by 
 direct light from the oasis seemed dark. The sun, 
 setting behind the mountain, painted the garden 
 paths with rose and flamed with red upon the tra- 
 ditional flamingo which stood with one foot raised 
 at the edge of the sapphire lake. 
 
 Suddenly I was bowled over a second time. 
 
 I felt a warm, silky touch, a burning breath on my 
 neck. Again the mocking growl which had so dis- 
 turbed me in the corridor. 
 
 With a wrench, I pulled myself free and sent a 
 chance blow at my assailant. The cry, this time of 
 pain and rage, broke out again. 
 
 It was echoed by a long peal of laughter. Furi- 
 ous, I turned to look for the insolent onlooker, think- 
 ing to speak my mind. And then my glance stood 
 still.
 
 i68 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Antinea was before me. 
 
 In the dimmest part of the room, under a kind of 
 arch lit by the mauve rays from a dozen incense- 
 lamps, four women lay on a heap of many-colored 
 cushions and rare white Persian rugs. 
 
 I recognized the first three as Tuareg women, of 
 a splendid regular beauty, dressed in magnificent 
 robes of white silk, embroidered in gold. The fourth, 
 very dark skinned, almost negroid, seemed younger. 
 A tunic of red silk enhanced the dusk of her face, 
 her arms and her bare 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 one el- 
 bow, lay Antinea. 
 
 Antinea ! Whenever I saw her after that, I won- 
 dered if I had really looked at her before, so much 
 more beautiful did I find her. More beautiful? In- 
 adequate word. Inadequate language ! But is it 
 really the fault of the language or of those who abuse 
 the word? 
 
 One could not stand before her without recalling 
 the woman for whom Ephractoeus overcame Atlas, 
 of her for whom Sapor usurped the scepter of Ozy- 
 mandias, for whom Mamylos subjugated Susa and 
 Tentyris, for whom Antony fled. . . . 
 
 O tremblant coeur hiimain, si jamais tii vibras 
 C'est dans I'etreinte altiere el chatide de ses bras.
 
 A\ 1 1 N 1:A 169 
 
 An Egyptian klaft fell over her abundant blue- 
 black curls. Its two points of heavy, gold-embroid- 
 ered cloth extended to her slim hips. The golden 
 serpent, cmerald-cycti, was clasped about her little 
 round, determined forehead, darting its double 
 tongue of rubies over her head. 
 
 She wore a tunic of black chiffon shot with gold, 
 very light, very full, slightly gathered in by 
 a white muslin scarf embroidered with iris in 
 black pearls. 
 
 That was Antinea's costume. But what was she 
 beneath all this? A slim young girl, with long green 
 eyes and the slender profile of a hawk. A more in- 
 tense Adonis. A child queen of Sheba, but with a 
 look, a smile, such as no Oriental ever had. A mir- 
 acle of irony and freedom. 
 
 I did not see her body. Indeed I should not have 
 thought of looking at it, had I had the strength. 
 And that, perhaps, was the most extraordinary thing 
 about that first impression. In that unforgettable 
 moment nothing would have seemed to me more hor- 
 ribly sacrilegious than to think of the fifty victims in 
 the red marble hall, of the fifty young 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, a splendid leopard was crouched.
 
 I70 ATLANTIDA 
 
 He still looked surly from the blow I had dealt 
 
 him. 
 
 "King Hiram," Antinea repeated. "Come here." 
 The beast relaxed like a spring released. He 
 fawned at his mistress's feet. 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 muzzle puckered about his black mous- 
 tache. 
 
 "Fftt," he grumbled like a great cat. 
 
 "Go," Antinea ordered imperiously. 
 
 The beast crawled reluctantly toward me. He 
 laid his head humbly between his paws and waited. 
 
 I stroked his beautiful spotted forehead. 
 
 "You must not be vexed," said Antinea. "He is 
 always that way with strangers." 
 
 "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 give twenty-five pounds in gold to Cegheir- 
 ben-Cheikh." 
 
 "You are a lieutenant?" she asked, after a pause. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Where do you come from?" 
 
 "From France."
 
 ANTINEA 171 
 
 **I might have guessed that," she said ironically. 
 *'but from what part of I'rance?" 
 
 "From what wc call the Lot-ct-Garonne." 
 
 "FVom what town?" 
 
 ''From Duras." 
 
 She reflected a moment. 
 
 "Duras! There is a little river there, tlie Dropt, 
 and a fine old chateau." 
 
 "You know Duras?" I murmured, amazed. 
 
 "You go there from Bordeaux by a little branch 
 railway," she went on. "It is a shut-in road, with 
 vine-covered hills crowned by the feudal ruins. The 
 villages have beautiful names: Monsegur, Sauve- 
 terre-de-Guyenne, la Tresne, Creon, . . . Creon, as 
 in Antigone." 
 
 "You have been there?'* 
 
 She looked at me. 
 
 "Don't speak so coldly," she said. "Sooner or 
 later we will be intimate, and you may as well lay 
 aside formality now." 
 
 This threatening promise suddenly filled me with 
 great happiness. I thought of Le Mesge's words: 
 "Don't talk until you have seen her. When you 
 have seen her, you will renounce everything for 
 her." 
 
 "Have I been in Duras?" she went on with a 
 burst of laughter. "You are joking. Imagine Nep- 
 tune's granddaughter in the first-class compartment 
 of a local train!"
 
 172 ATLANTIDA 
 
 She pointed to an enormous white rock which tow- 
 ered above the palm trees of the garden. 
 
 "That is my horizon," she said gravely. 
 
 She picked up one of several books which lay 
 scattered about her on the lion's skin. 
 
 "The time table of the Chemin de Fer de I'Ouest," 
 she said, "Admirable reading for one who never 
 budges! Here it is half-past five in the afternoon. 
 A train, a local, arrived three minutes ago at Sur- 
 geres in the Charente-Inferieure. It will start on in 
 six minutes. In two hours It will reach La Rochelle. 
 How strange it seems to think of 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. My way of living has made 
 me a great polyglot. But I prefer French, even 
 to Tuareg and Arabian. It seems as if I had 
 always known it. And I am not saying that to 
 please you." 
 
 There was a pause. I thought of her grand- 
 mother, of whom Plutarch said: "There were few 
 races with which she needed an interpreter. Cleo- 
 patra spoke their own language to the Ethiopians, 
 to the Troglodytes, the Hebrews, the Arabs, the 
 Medes and the Persians." 
 
 "Do not stand rooted in the middle of the room.
 
 ANTINEA 173 
 
 You worry mc. Come sit 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 ring of orichalch and slipped it on 
 my left ring-finger. I saw that she wore one like it. 
 
 "Tanit-Zerga, give Monsieur de Saint-Avit a rose 
 sherbet." 
 
 The dark girl in red silk obeyed. 
 
 "My private secretary," said Antlnea, introduc- 
 ing her. "Mademoiselle Tanit-Zerga, of Gao, 
 on the Niger, licr family is almost as ancient 
 as mine." 
 
 As she spoke, she looked at me. Her green eyes 
 seemed to be appraising me. 
 
 "And your comrade, the Captain?" she asked in 
 a dreamy tone. "I have not yet seen him. What is 
 he like? Does he resemble you?" 
 
 For the first time since I had entered, I thought 
 of Morhange. I did not answer.. 
 
 Antinea smiled. 
 
 She stretched herself out full length on the lion 
 skin. Her bare right knee slipped out from under 
 her tunic. 
 
 "It is time to go find him," she said languidly. 
 "You will soon receive my orders. Tanit-Zerga, 
 show him the way. First take him to his room. He 
 cannot have seen it." 
 
 I rose and lifted her hand to my lips. She struck
 
 174 ATLANTIDA 
 
 me with it so sharply 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 tunic walked ahead of me. 
 
 "Here is your room," she said. "If you wish, I 
 will take you to the dining-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 not hungry. 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 of need. 
 
 "I remember your name, Tanit-Zerga, because it 
 Is beautiful."^ 
 
 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 same time vexed. I felt a great 
 need of withdrawing into myself. 
 
 "My room is above yours," she said. "There is 
 a copper gong on the table here. You have only to 
 strike if you want anything. A white Targa will 
 
 answer." 
 
 For a second, these instructions amused me. I 
 was in a hotel in the midst of the Sahara. I had 
 only to ring for service. 
 
 iln Berber, Tanit means a spring; zerga is the feminine of 
 the adjective azreg, blue. (Note by M. Leroux.)
 
 ANTTNFA 175 
 
 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 cov- 
 ered by a matting shade. 
 
 I went to the window and raised the shade. The 
 light of the setting sun entered. 
 
 I leaned my elbows on the rocky sill. Inexpres- 
 sible emotion filled my heart. The window faced 
 south. It was about two hundred feet above the 
 ground. The black, polished volcanic wall yawned 
 dizzily below me. 
 
 In front of me, perhaps a mile and a half away, 
 was another wall, the first enclosure mentioned in 
 the Critias. And beyond it in the distance, I saw 
 the limitless red desert.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MORHANGE DISAPPEARS 
 
 My fatigue was so great that I lay as If un- 
 conscious until the next day. I awoke about three 
 o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 I thought at once of the events of the previous 
 day; they seemed amazing. 
 
 "Let me see," I said to myself. "Let us work 
 this out. I must begin by consulting Morhange." 
 
 I was ravenously hungry. 
 
 The gong which Tanit-Zerga had pointed out lay 
 within arm's reach. I struck 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 and corridors I realized that I 
 could never have found my way without his help. 
 
 Morhange was in the library, intently reading a 
 manuscript. 
 
 "A lost treatise of Saint Optat," he said. "Oh, 
 
 if only Dom Granger were here. See, it is written 
 
 in semi-uncial characters." 
 
 176
 
 M O R tl A N G E D I S A P P J^ A K S 177 
 
 I did not reply. My eyes were fixed on an object 
 which lay on the table beside the manuscript. It was 
 an orichalch ring, exactly like that which Antinea 
 had given me the previous day and the one which she 
 herself 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 com- 
 rade answered. "I even believe that I can say that 
 she is as intelligent as she Is beautiful." 
 
 There was a pause. Morhange was calmly fin- 
 gering the orichalch ring. 
 
 "You know what our fate is to be?" 
 
 "I know. Le Mesge explained it to us yesterday 
 in polite mythological terms. 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 feature is that since last evening you 
 seem to have been bearing your lot very easily." 
 
 Where had Morhange learned this insight into 
 the human heart? I did not reply, thus giving him 
 the best of proofs that he had judged correctly. 
 
 "What do you think of doing?" I finally mur- 
 mured.
 
 178 ATLANTIDA 
 
 He rolled up the manuscript, leaned back com- 
 fortably in his armchair and lit a cigar. 
 
 "I have thought it over carefully. With the aid 
 of my conscience I have marked out a line of con- 
 duct. The matter is clear and admits no dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 "The question is not quite the same for me as for 
 you, because of my semi-religious character, which, 
 I admit, has set out on a rather doubtful adventure. 
 To be sure, I have not taken holy orders, but, even 
 aside from the fact that the ninth commandment it- 
 self forbids my having relations with a woman not 
 my wife, I admit that I have no taste for the kind 
 of forced servitude for which the excellent Cegheir- 
 ben-Cheikh has so kindly recruited us. 
 
 "That granted, the fact remains that my life is 
 not my own with the right to dispose of it as might 
 a private explorer travelling at his own expenses and 
 for his own ends. I have a mission to accomplish, 
 results to obtain. If I could regain my liberty by 
 paying the singular ransom which this country ex- 
 acts, I should consent to give satisfaction to Antinea 
 according to my ability. I know the tolerance of 
 the Church, and especially that of the order to which 
 I aspire: such a procedure would be ratified im- 
 mediately and, who knows, perhaps even approved? 
 Saint Mary the Egyptian, gave her body to boat- 
 men under similar circumstances. She received only 
 glorification for it. In so doing she had the cer-
 
 M O R H A N G E D I S A IMM : A K S 179 
 
 talnty of attaining her goal, which was holy. The 
 end justified the means. 
 
 "But my case is quite different. If I give in to 
 the absurd caprices of this woman, that will not keep 
 me from being catalogued down in the red mar- 
 ble hall, as Number 54, or as Number 55, If 
 she prefers to take you first. Under those con- 
 ditions ..." 
 
 "Under those conditions?" 
 
 "Under those conditions, It would be unpardonable 
 for me to acquiesce." 
 
 "Then what do you intend to do?" 
 
 "What do I Intend to do?" Morhange leaned 
 back in the armchair and smilingly launched a puff 
 of smoke toward the ceiling. 
 
 "Nothing," he said. "And that is all that is neces- 
 sary. Man has this superiority over woman. He 
 is so constructed that he can refuse advances." 
 
 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 was breath wasted. 'But,' I said 
 at the end of my arguments, 'why not Le Mesge?' 
 She began to laugh. 'Why not the Reverend Spar- 
 dek?' she replied. 'Le Mesge and Spardek are sa- 
 vants whom I respect. But
 
 i8o ATLANTIDA 
 
 Maudit soit a jamais le reveur inutile, 
 Qui voulut, le premier, dans sa stupidite, 
 S'eprenant d'un probleme insoluble et sterile, 
 Aux choses de V amour meler Vhonnetete. 
 
 " 'Besides,' she added with that really very charm- 
 ing smile of hers, 'probably you have not looked 
 carefully at either of them.' There followed sev- 
 eral compliments on my figure, to which I found 
 nothing to reply, so completely had she disarmed me 
 by those four lines from Baudelaire. 
 
 "She condescended to explain further: 'Le Mesge 
 is a learned gentleman whom I find useful. He 
 knows Spanish and Italian, keeps my papers in order, 
 and is busy working out my genealogy. The Rev- 
 erend Spardek knows English and German. Count 
 BieJowsky is thoroughly conversant with the Slavic 
 languages. Besides, I love him like a father. He 
 knew me as a child when I had not dreamed such 
 stupid things as you know of me. They are indis- 
 pensable to me in my relations with visitors of dif- 
 ferent races, although I am beginning to get along 
 well enough in the languages v/hich I need. . . . But 
 I am talking a great deal, and this is the first time 
 that I have ever explained my conduct. Your friend 
 is not so curious.' With that, she dismissed me. A 
 strange woman indeed. I think there is a bit of 
 Renan in her, but she is cleverer than that master of 
 sensualism."
 
 MORII.WGF. DISAIMM' ARS i8i 
 
 "Gentlemen," said I.c Mesge, sudJcnly entering 
 the room, "why are you so late? They arc waiting 
 dinner for you." 
 
 The little Professor was in a particularly good 
 humor that evening. He wore 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 Hetman of Jito- 
 mir already had begun eating when we arrived. The 
 setting sun threw raspberry lights on the cream-col- 
 ored mat. 
 
 "Be seated, gentlemen," said Le Mesge noisily. 
 "Lieutenant de Saint-Avit, you were not with us last 
 evening. You are about to taste the cooking of 
 Koukou, our Bambara chef, for the first time. You 
 must give me your opinion of it." 
 
 A negro waiter set before me a superb fish cov- 
 ered with a pimento sauce 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," ^^^ Hetman of Jitomlr 
 breathed in my ear as he filled my goblet with a clear 
 topaz liquid. "I developed it myself: rien pour la 
 tefe, tout pour les jainbes." 
 
 I emptied the goblet at a gulp. The company be- 
 gan to seem charming. 
 
 "Well, Captain Morhange," Le Mesge called out
 
 i82 ATLANTIDA 
 
 to my comrade who had taken 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 admit the 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 talk- 
 ing. 
 
 The veiled man walked slowly toward Morhange 
 and touched his right arm. 
 
 "Very well," said Morhange. 
 
 He got up and followed the messenger. 
 
 The pitcher of Ahaggar, 1879, stood between me 
 and Count Bielowsky. I filled 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 has respect 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 head of the Fellow in His- 
 tory. But what of it? I filled it and emptied it 
 again. 
 
 "Morhange will miss this delicious roast of mut- 
 ton," said the Professor, more and more hilarious, 
 as he awarded himself a thick slice of meat. 
 
 "He won't regret it," said the Hetman crossly.
 
 M O R H A N G E D I S A F P I-: A R S 1 83 
 
 "This Is not roast; it is 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. "I have told him often enough to 
 hunt other proselytes and leave our cook alone." 
 
 "Professor," Spardek began with dignity. 
 
 "I maintain my contention," cried Le Mesge, who 
 seemed to me to be getting a bit overloaded. "I 
 call the gentleman to witness," he went on, turning 
 to me. "He has just come. He is unbiased. 
 Therefore I ask him: has one the right to spoil a 
 Bambara cook by addling his head with theological 
 discussions for which he has no predisposition?" 
 
 "Alas!" the pastor replied sadly. "You are mis- 
 taken. He has only too strong a propensity to con- 
 troversy." 
 
 "Koukou is a good-for-nothing who uses Colas' 
 cow as an excuse for doing 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 with great dignity. "Do you know 
 what he has come to? He denies transubstantlation. 
 He Is within an Inch of the heresy of Zwingli 
 and Oecolampades. Koukou denies transubstan- 
 tlation." 
 
 "Sir," said Le Mesge, very much excited, "cooks 
 should be left in peace. Jesus, whom I consider as
 
 i84 ATLANTIDA 
 
 good a theologian as you, understood that, and it 
 never occurred to him to call Martha away from 
 her oven to 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, Cotes Roties, wine from the Cote-Rotie!" 
 he murmured to me as he finally succeeded. "Touch 
 glasses," 
 
 "Koukou denies transubstantiation," the pastor 
 continued, sadly emptying his glass. 
 
 "Eh !" said the Hetman of Jitomir in my ear, "let 
 them talk on. Don't you see that they are quite 
 drunk?" 
 
 His own voice was thick. He had the greatest 
 difficulty in the world in filling my goblet to the 
 brim. 
 
 I wanted to push the pitcher away. Then an Idea 
 came to me: 
 
 "At this very moment, Morhange . . . What- 
 ever he may say . . . She is so beautiful." 
 
 I reached out for the glass and emptied it once 
 more. 
 
 Le Mesge and the pastor were now engaged in the 
 most extraordinary religious controversy, throwing 
 at each other's heads the Book of Common Prayer, 
 The Declaration of the Rights of Man, and the 
 Unigenitus. Little by little, the Hetman began to 
 show that ascendancy over them, which is the char-
 
 M O R H A N G I- D I S A P P E A R S 1 85 
 
 acteristic of a man of the world even when he i<? 
 thoroughly drunk; the superiority of education over 
 insti"uction. 
 
 Count Bielowsky had drunk five times as much as 
 the Professor or the pastor. 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 to present 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 level with the floor and sur- 
 rounded with cushions on which a dozen natives 
 were lying, was the chief article of furniture. Two 
 engravings on the wall gave evidence of the hap- 
 piest broadmindedness in taste; one of da Vinci's 
 St. John the Baptist, and the Maison des Dernieres 
 Cartouches of Alphonse de Neuville. 
 
 On the table were earthenware goblets. A heavy 
 jar held palm liqueur. 
 
 I recognized acquaintances among those present; 
 my masseur, the manicure, the barber, and two or
 
 i86 ATLANTIDA 
 
 three Tuareg who had lowered their veils and were 
 gravely smoking long pipes. While waiting for 
 something better, all were plunged in the delights of 
 a card game that looked like "rams." Two of An- 
 tinea's beautiful ladies in waiting, Aguida and Sydia, 
 were among the number. Their smooth bistre skins 
 gleamed beneath veils shot with silver. I was sorry 
 not to see the red silk tunic of Tanit-Zerga. Again, 
 I thought of Morhange, but only for an Instant. 
 
 "The chips, Koukou," demanded the Hetman. 
 "We are not here to amuse ourselves." 
 
 The Zwinglian cook placed a box of many-colored 
 chips in front of him. Count Bielowsky set about 
 counting them and arranging them in little piles with 
 infinite care. 
 
 "The white are worth a louts'* he explained to 
 me. "The red, a hundred 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 the count's knee and began to ar- 
 range her chips lovingly in little piles. 
 
 "Fourteen," I said. 
 
 "Fifteen," said the sharp voice of Roslta, the old 
 
 manicure 
 
 Seventeen," proclaimed the Hetman.
 
 M O R H A N G E DISAPPEARS 187 
 
 "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 will have to play carefully, 
 Lieutenant." 
 
 Koukou had taken his place at the end of the table. 
 He threw down the cards with an air v.hich abashed 
 me. 
 
 "I told you so; the way it was at Anna Deslions'," 
 the Hetman murmured proudly. 
 
 "Make your bets, gentlemen," yelped the negro. 
 "Make your bets." 
 
 "Wait, you beast," called Bielowsky. "Don't you 
 see that the glasses are empty? Here, Cacambo." 
 
 The goblets were filled immediately by the jolly 
 masseur. 
 
 "Cut," said Koukou, addressing Sydya, the beau- 
 tiful Targa who sat at his 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 he had encircled with the most 
 aristocratic freedom, Cacambo, a Tuareg woman.
 
 i88 ATLANTIDA 
 
 then two veiled negroes who were watching the game 
 intently. At the right, Sydya, myself, the old mani- 
 cure, Rosita, Barouf, the barber, 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 added coldly. 
 
 "I double," said the Hetman. 
 
 Cacambo and Aguida followed his example. On 
 our side, we were more careful. The manicure espe- 
 cially would not risk more than twenty francs at a 
 time. 
 
 "I demand that the cards be evened up," said 
 Koukou imperturbably. 
 
 "This fellow is unbearable," grumbled the count. 
 "There, are you satisfied?" 
 
 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 cards out of my hands. 
 
 I watched Sydya at my right. Her heavy black 
 hair covered her shoulders. She was really very
 
 i\I O K H A N G E D I S A V V V A R S 189 
 
 beautiful, though a bit tipsy, as were all that fan- 
 tastic company. She looked at me, too, but 
 with lowered eyelids, like a timid little wild 
 animal. 
 
 "Oh," I thought. "She may well be afraid. I am 
 labelled 'No trespassing.' " 
 
 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 a five. If only I had never prom- 
 ised his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon III never 
 to cut fives ! There are times when it is hard, very 
 hard. And look at that beast of a negro who plays 
 Charlemagne." 
 
 It was true. Koukou swept in three-quarters of 
 the chips, rose with dignity, and bowed to the com- 
 pany. 
 
 "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. The ceiling of the room was lost 
 in the gray smoke.
 
 I90 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "What time is it?" I asked. 
 
 "After midnight. But you are not going to leave 
 me like this, my dear boy? I am heavy-hearted." 
 
 He wept bitterly. The tail of his coat spread out 
 on the divan behind him like the apple-green wings of 
 a beetle. 
 
 "Isn't Aguida a beauty?" he went on, still weep- 
 ing. "She makes me think of the Countess de Te- 
 ruel, though she is a little darker. You know the 
 Countess de Tereul, Mercedes, who went in bath- 
 ing nude at Biarritz, in front of the rock of the 
 Virgin, one day when Prince Bismarck 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 generation and 
 to be reduced to playing cards with savages. ... I 
 must tell you . . ." 
 
 I stood up and pushed him off. 
 
 "Stay, stay," he implored. "I will tell you every- 
 thing you want to know, how I came here, things I 
 have never told anyone. Stay, I must unbosom my- 
 self to a true friend. I will tell you everything, I 
 repeat. I trust you. You are a Frenchman, a gen- 
 tleman. I know that you will repeat nothing to her." 
 
 "That I will repeat nothing to her? . . . To 
 whom ?"
 
 MORHANGE DISAPPFARS 191 
 
 His voice stuck in his throat. I thought I saw a 
 shudder of fear pass over him. 
 
 "To her ... to Antinea," he murmured. 
 I sat down again.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE HETMAN OF JITOMIR's STORY 
 
 Count Casimir had reached that stage where 
 drunkenness takes on a kind of gravity, of regret- 
 fulness. 
 
 He thought a little, then began his story. I re- 
 gret that I cannot reproduce more perfectly its 
 archaic flavor. 
 
 "When the grapes begin to color in Antinea's 
 garden, I shall be sixty-eight. It is very sad, my dear 
 boy, to have sowed all your wild oats. It isn't true 
 that life is always beginning over again. How 
 bitter, to have known the Tuileries in i860, 
 and to have reached the point where I am 
 now! 
 
 "One evening, just before the war (I remember 
 that Victor Black was still living), some charming 
 women whose names I need not disclose (I read the 
 names of their sons from time to time in the society 
 news of the Gaulois) expressed to me their desire 
 to rub elbows with some real demi-mondaines of the 
 artist quarter. I took them to a ball at the Grande 
 
 192
 
 THE HITMAN OF JITOMIR'S STORY 193 
 
 Chduviierc. There was a crowd of young painters, 
 models, students. In the midst of the uproar, sev- 
 eral couples danced the cancan til! the chandeliers 
 shook with it. We noticed especially a little, dark 
 man, dressed in a miserable top-coat and checked 
 trousers which assuredly knew the support of no 
 suspenders. He was cross-eyed, with a wretched 
 beard and hair as greasy as could be. He bounded 
 and kicked extravagantly. The ladies called him 
 Leon Gambetta. 
 
 "What an annoyance, when I realize that I need 
 only have felled this wretched lawyer with one pistol 
 shot to have guaranteed perfect happiness to myself 
 and to my adopted country, for, my dear fellow, I 
 am French at heart, if not by birth. 
 
 "I was born in 1829, at Warsaw, of a Polish 
 father and a Russian mother. It is from her that I 
 hold my title of Hetman of Jitomir. It was re- 
 stored to me by Czar Alexander II on a request 
 made to him on his visit to Paris, by my august mas- 
 ter, the Emperor Napoleon III. 
 
 "For political reasons, which I cannot describe 
 without retelling the history of unfortunate Poland, 
 my father. Count Blelowsky, left W^arsaw in 1830, 
 and went to live in London. After the death of my 
 mother, he began to squander his immense fortune 
 — from sorrow, he said. When, in his time, he died 
 at the period of the Prichard affair, he left me barely 
 a thousand pounds sterling of income, plus two or
 
 194 ATLANTIDA 
 
 three systems of gaming, the impracticability of 
 which I learned later. 
 
 "I will never be able to think of my nineteenth 
 and twentieth years without emotion, for I then com- 
 pletely liquidated this small inheritance. London 
 was indeed an adorable spot In those days. I had a 
 jolly bachelor's apartment In Piccadilly. 
 
 (( ( 
 
 Piccadilly! 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 of Drury Lane, this 
 took all my time. All? I am unjust. There was 
 also gaming, and a sentiment of filial piety forced 
 me to verify the systems of the late Count, my father. 
 It was gaming which was the cause of the event I 
 must describe to you, by which my life was to be so 
 strangely changed. 
 
 "My friend. Lord Malmesbury, had said to me a 
 hundred times, 'I must take you to see an exquisite 
 creature who lives in Oxford Street, number 277, 
 Miss Howard.' One evening I went with him. It 
 was the twenty-second of February, 1848. The mis- 
 tress of the house was really marvelously beautiful, 
 and the guests were charming. Besides Malmes- 
 bury, I observed several acquaintances: Lord Cieb- 
 den, Lord Chesterfield, Sir Francis Mountjoye,
 
 THE HITMAN Ol jri"(JMIK'S STOKV 195 
 
 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 they discussed endlessly the 
 consequences of the revolt that had broken out in 
 Paris that same morning, in consequence of the inter- 
 diction of the banquet in the 12th arrondissement, 
 of which word had just been received by telegram. 
 Up to that time, I had never bothered myself with 
 public affairs. So I don't know what moved me to 
 affirm with the impetuosity of my nineteen years that 
 the news from FVance meant the Republic next day 
 and the Empire the day after. . . . 
 
 "The company received my sally with a discreet 
 laugh, and their looks were centered on a guest who 
 made the fifth at a boiiillotte table where they had 
 just stopped playing. 
 
 "The guest smiled, too. He rose and came to- 
 wards me. I observed that he was of middle height, 
 perhaps even shorter, buttoned tightly into a blue 
 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 gentle voice. 
 
 " 'Count Bielowsky,' I answered coolly to show 
 him that the difference in our ages was not sufficient 
 to justify the interrogation.
 
 196 ATLANTIDA 
 
 " 'Well, my dear Count, may your prediction in- 
 deed be realized; and I hope that you will not 
 neglect the Tuileries,' said the guest in the blue coat, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "And he added, finally consenting to present him- 
 self: 
 
 'Prince Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte.' 
 
 <( (1 
 
 "I played no active role in the coup d'etat, and I 
 do not regret it. It is a principle with me that a 
 stranger should not meddle with the internal affairs 
 of a country. The prince understood this discretion, 
 and did not forget the young man who had been of 
 such good omen to him. 
 
 "I was one of the first whom he called to the 
 Elysee. My fortune was definitely established by a 
 defamatory note on 'Napoleon the little.' The next 
 year, when Mgr. Sibour was out of the way, I was 
 made Gentleman of the Chamber, and the Emperor 
 was even so kind as to have me marry the daughter 
 of the Marshal Repeto, Duke of Mondovi. 
 
 "I have no scruple in announcing that this union 
 was not what it should have been. The Countess, 
 who was ten years older than I, was crabbed and 
 not particularly pretty. Moreover, her family had 
 insisted resolutely on a marriage portion. Now I 
 had nothing at this time except the twenty-five thou- 
 sand pounds for my appointment as Gentleman of the 
 Chamber. A sad lot for anyone on intimate terms
 
 THE HITMAN OF JITOMIR'S STORY 197 
 
 with the Count d'Orsay and the Duke of Gramont- 
 Caderousse I Without the kindness of the 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 Tuilerles at four 
 o'clock; a letter from Clementine, informing me that 
 she expected me at five o'clock at her house. Clem- 
 entine was the beautiful one for whom, just then, 
 I was ready to commit any folly. I was so proud 
 of her that, one evening at the Maison Doree, I 
 flaunted her before Prince Metternich, who was 
 tremendously taken with her. All the court envied 
 me that conquest; and I was morally obliged to con- 
 tinue to assume its expenses. And then Clementine 
 was so pretty! The Emperor himself . . . The 
 other letters, good lord, the other letters were the 
 bills of the dressmakers of that young person, who, 
 in spite of my discreet remonstrances, insisted on 
 having them sent to my conjugal dwelling. 
 
 "There were bills for something over forty thou- 
 sand francs: gowns and ball dresses from Gagelin- 
 Opigez, 23 Rue de Richelieu; hats and bonnets from 
 Madame Alexandrine, 14 Rue d'Antin; lingerie and 
 many petticoats from Madame Pauline, 100 Rue 
 de Clery; dress trimmings and gloves from the Fille 
 de Lyon, 6 Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin; foulards 
 from the MaUe des hides; handkerchiefs from the
 
 198 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Compagnie Irlanda'tse; laces from Ferguson; cos- 
 metics from Candes. . . . This whitening cream of 
 Candes, in particular, overwhelmed me with stupe- 
 faction. The bill showed fifty-one flasks. Six hun- 
 dred and twenty-seven francs and fifty centimes' 
 worth of whitening cream from Candes. . . . 
 Enough to soften the skin of a squadron of a hun- 
 dred guards ! 
 
 " '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 his room. He has given orders 
 to have you admitted as soon as you arrive. 
 Come.' 
 
 "His Majesty, dressed in a braided vest and Cos- 
 sack trousers, was meditating before a window. The 
 pale green of the Tuileries showed luminously under 
 a gentle warm shower. 
 
 " 'Ah ! Here he Is,' said Napoleon. 'Here, have 
 a cigarette. It seems that you had great doings, 
 you and Gramont-Caderousse, last evening, at the 
 Chateau des Fleurs/ 
 
 "I smiled with satisfaction. 
 
 "'So Your Majesty knows already . . .* 
 'I know, I know vaguely.' 
 
 " n
 
 
 THE HITMAN OK JITOMIR'S STORY 199 
 
 '* 'Do you know Gramont-Caderousse's last 
 mot r 
 
 'No, but you are going to tell it to nie.' 
 'Here goes, then. We were five or six: myself, 
 Viel-Castel, Gramont, Persigny . . .' 
 
 " 'Persigny!' said the Emperor. 'He has no right 
 to associate with Gramont, after all that Paris says 
 about his wife.' 
 
 " 'Just so. Sire. Well, Persigny was excited, no 
 doubt about it. He began telling us how troubled 
 he was because of the Duchess's conduct.' 
 
 " 'This Fialin isn't over tactful,' murmured the 
 Emperor. 
 
 " 'Just so, Sire. Then, does Your Majesty know 
 what Gramont hurled at him?' 
 
 "'What?' 
 
 " 'He said to him, "Monsieur le Due, 1 forbid you 
 to speak ill of my mistress before me." 
 
 " 'Gramont goes too far,' said Napoleon with a 
 dreamy smile. 
 
 " 'That is what we all thought, including Viel- 
 Castel, who was nevertheless delighted.' 
 
 " 'Apropos of this,' said Napoleon after a silence, 
 'I have forgotten to ask you for news of the Countess 
 Bielowsky.' 
 
 " 'She is very well, Sire, I thank Your Ma- 
 jesty.' 
 
 " 'And Clementine? Still the same dear child?' 
 
 " 'Always, Sire. But . . .'
 
 
 200 ATLANTIDA 
 
 " 'It seems that M. Baroche is madly in love with 
 her.' 
 
 " 'I am very much honored, Sire. But this honor 
 becomes too burdensome.' 
 
 "I had drawn from my pocket that morning's bills 
 and I spread them out under the eyes of the Em- 
 peror. 
 
 "He looked at them with his distant smile. 
 
 " 'Come, come. If that is all, I can fix that, since 
 I have a favor to ask 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 ex- 
 plain the affair to you.' 
 
 "The Emperor's private secretary entered. 
 
 " 'Here is Bielowsky, Mocquard,' said Napoleon. 
 'You know what I want him to do. Explain it to 
 him.' 
 
 "And he began to tap on the window-panes against 
 which the rain was beating furiously. 
 
 " 'My dear Count,' said Mocquard, taking a chair, 
 'it is very simple. You have doubtless heard of a 
 young explorer of promise, M. Henry Duveyrier.' 
 
 "I shook my head as a sign of negation, very much 
 surprised at this beginning. 
 
 " 'M. Duveyrier,' continued Mocquard, 'has re- 
 turned to Paris after a particularly daring trip to 
 South Africa and the Sahara. M. Vivien de Saint
 
 THE HriWfAX ()!■ JIIOMIR'S STORY 201 
 
 Martin, whom I have seen recently has assured me 
 that the Geographical Society intends to confer its 
 great gold medal upon him, in recognition of these 
 exploits. In the course of his trip, M. Duvreyrier 
 has entered into negotiations with the chiefs of the 
 people who always have been so rebellious to His 
 Majesty's armies, the Tuareg.' 
 
 "I looked at the Emperor. My bewilderment was 
 such that he began to laugh. 
 
 " 'Listen,' he said. 
 
 *' 'M. Duveyrier,' continued Mocquard, 'was able 
 to arrange to have a delegation of these chiefs come 
 to Paris to present their respects to His Majesty. 
 Very important results may arise from this visit, and 
 His Excellency the Colonial Minister, does not de- 
 spair of obtaining the signature of a treaty of com- 
 merce, reserving special advantages to our fellow 
 countrymen. These chiefs, five of them, among them 
 Sheik Otham, Amenokol or Sultan of the Confedera- 
 tion of Adzger, arrive to-morrow morning at the 
 Gare de Lyon. M. Duveyrier will meet them. But 
 the Emperor has thought that besides . . .* 
 
 *' 'I thought,' said Napoleon III, delighted by my 
 bewilderment, 'I thought that it was correct to have 
 some one of the Gentlemen of my Chamber wait 
 upon the arrival of these Mussulman dignitaries. 
 That is why you are here, my poor Bielowsky. 
 Don't be frightened,' he added, laughing harder. 
 'You will have M. Duveyrier with you. You are
 
 202 ATLANTIDA 
 
 charged only with the special part of the reception: 
 to accompany these princes to the lunch that I am 
 giving them to-morrow at the Tuileries; then, in the 
 evening, discreetly on account of their religious 
 scruples, to succeed in giving them a very high idea 
 of Parisian civilization, with nothing exaggerated: 
 do not forget that in the Sahara they are very high 
 religious dignitaries. In that respect, I have con- 
 iidence in your tact and give you carte blanche. . . . 
 Mocquard!' 
 
 "'Sire?' 
 
 " 'You will apportion on the budget, half to For- 
 eign Affairs, half to the Colonies, the funds Count 
 Bielowsky will need for the reception of the 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 exceed that figure.' 
 
 "Clementine lived on the Rue Boccador, in a little 
 Moorish pavillion that I had bought for her from 
 M, de Lesseps. I found her in bed. When she 
 saw me, she burst into tears. 
 
 " 'Great fools that we are!' she murmured amidst 
 her sobs, 'what have we done !' 
 
 " 'Clementine, tell me!' 
 
 " 'What have we done, what have we done!' she 
 repeated, and I felt against me, her floods of black 
 hair, her warm cheek which was fragrant with eau 
 de Nation.
 
 THE HITMAN OF JITOMIR'S STORY 203 
 
 " 'What is it? What can it be?' 
 
 " *It is . . .' and she murmured something in my 
 car. 
 
 "'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, I assure you.' 
 
 " Prove it to me: let us spend the day together 
 
 to-morrow.' 
 
 "'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 Clementine. 
 
 " 'I admit that nothing so much resembles a lie as 
 the truth.' 
 
 "I retold Mocquard's story to Clementine, as well 
 as I could. She listened to me with an expression 
 that said: 'you can't fool me that way.' 
 
 "Finally, furious, I burst out: 
 
 " 'You can see for yourself. I am dining with 
 them, to-morrow; and I invite you.' 
 
 " 'I shall be very pleased to come,' said Clemen- 
 tine with great dignity. 
 
 ''I admit that I lacked self-control at that minute. 
 But think what a day it had been! Forty thousand 
 f-rnncs o^ bills as soon as I woke up. The ordeal of
 
 204 ATLANTIDA 
 
 escorting the savages around Paris all the next day. 
 And, quite unexpectedly, the announcement of an 
 approaching irregular paternity. . . . 
 
 " 'After all,' I thought, as I returned to my house, 
 'these are the Emperor's orders. He has com- 
 manded me to give the Tuareg an Idea of Parisian 
 civilization. Clementine comports herself very well 
 in society and just now it would not do to aggravate 
 her. I will engage a room for to-morrow at the 
 Cafe de Paris, and tell Gramont-Caderousse and 
 VIel-Castel to bring their silly mistresses. It will 
 be very French to enjoy the attitude of these chil- 
 dren of the desert in the midst of this little party.' 
 
 "The train from Marseilles arrived at 10:20. 
 On the platform I found M. Duveyrler, a young man 
 of twenty-three with blue eyes and a little blond 
 beard. The Tuareg fell into his arms as they de- 
 scended from the train. He had lived with them for 
 two years, in their tents, the devil knows where. He 
 presented me to their chief. Sheik Otham, and to 
 four others, splendid fellows In their blue cotton 
 draperies and their amulets of red leather. For- 
 tunately, they all spoke a kind of sahir * which helped 
 things along. 
 
 "I only mention in passing the lunch at the Tuil- 
 erles, the visits in the evening to the Museum, to the 
 Hotel de Fille, to the Imperial Printing Press. Each 
 
 1 Dialect spoken in Algeria and the Levant — a mixture of 
 Arabian, French, Italian and Spanish.
 
 THE HITMAN OF JITUMIK'S STORY 205 
 
 time, the Tuareg Inscribed their names in the regis- 
 try of the place they were visiting. It was Intermin- 
 able. To give you an idea, here is the complete 
 name of Sheik. Otham alone: Otham-ben-el-Hadj-el- 
 Bekrl-ben-el-Hadj-el-Faqqi-bcn-Mohammad - Bouya- 
 ben-sI-Ahmed-es-Souki-ben-Mahmoud.^ 
 
 "And there were five of them like that! 
 
 "I maintained my good humor, however, because 
 on the boulevards, everywhere, our success was co- 
 lossal. At the Cafe de Paris, at six-thirty, it 
 amounted to frenzy. The delegation, a little drunk, 
 embraced me: 'Bono, Napoleon; bono, Eugenic; 
 bono, Casimir; bono, Christians.' Gramont-Cade- 
 rousse and Viel Castel were already in booth num- 
 ber eight, with Anna Grimaldi, of the Folies Dra- 
 matiques, and Hortense Schneider, both beautiful 
 enough to strike terror to the heart. But the palm 
 was for my dear Clementine, when she entered. I 
 must tell you how she was dressed: a gown of white 
 tulle, over China blue tarletan, with pleatings, and 
 ruffles of tulle over the pleatings. The tulle skirt 
 was caught up on each side by garlands of green 
 leaves mingled with rose clusters. Thus it formed 
 a valence which allowed the tarletan skirt to show 
 in front and on the sides. The garlands were caught 
 
 ^ I have succeeded in finding on the registrj' of the Imperial 
 Printing Press the names of the Tuareg chiefs and those who 
 accompanied them on their visit, M. Henrj' Duvej-rior and the 
 Count Bielowsky. (Note by M. Leroux.)
 
 2o6 ATLANTIDA 
 
 up to the belt and, in the space between their 
 branches, were knots of rose satin with long ends. 
 The pointed bodice was draped with tulle, the bil- 
 lowy bertha of tulle was edged with lace. By way 
 of head-dress, she had placed upon her black locks 
 a diadem crown of the same flowers. Two long 
 leafy tendrils were twined in her hair and fell on her 
 neck. As cloak, she had a kind of scarf of blue 
 cashmere embroidered in gold and lined with blue 
 satin. 
 
 "So much beauty and splendor immediately moved 
 the Tuareg and, especially, Clementine's right-hand 
 neighbor, El-Hadj-ben-Guemama, brother of Sheik 
 Otham and Sultan of Ahaggar. By the time the 
 soup arrived, a bouillon of wild game, seasoned with 
 Tokay, he was already much smitten. When they 
 served the compote of fruits Martinique a la liqueur 
 de Mme. Amphoux, he showed every indication of 
 illimitable passion. The Cyprian wine de la Com- 
 manderie made him quite sure of his sentiments. 
 Hortense kicked my foot under the table. Gramont, 
 intending to do the same to Anna, made a mistake 
 and aroused the indignant protests of one of the 
 Tuareg. I can safely say that when the time came 
 to go to Mabille, we were enlightened as to the man- 
 ner in which our visitors respected the prohibition 
 decreed by the Prophet in respect to wine. 
 
 "At Mabille, while Clementine, Hortense, Anna, 
 Ludovic and the three Tuareg gave themselves over
 
 THE HITMAN OF JITOMIR'S STORY 207 
 
 to the wildest gallops, Shclk Otham took nic aside 
 and confided to me, with visible emotion, a certain 
 commission with which he had just been charged 
 by his brother. Sheik Ahmed. 
 
 "The next day, very early, I reached Clementine'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 gentle- 
 man who was so taken with you last night?' 
 
 " 'Why, well enough,' she said, blusFilng. 
 
 " 'Do you know that in his country, he is the sov- 
 ereign prince and reigns over territories five or six 
 times greater than those of our august master, the 
 Emperor Napoleon III?' 
 
 " 'He murmured something of that kind to me,' 
 she said, becoming Interested. 
 
 " 'Well, would it please you to mount on a throne, 
 like our august sovereign, the Empress Eugenie?' 
 
 "Clementine looked startled. 
 
 " 'His own brother, Sheik Otham, has charged 
 me In his name to make this offer.' 
 
 "Clementine, dumb with amazement, dia not re- 
 ply. 
 
 'I, Empress!' she finally stammered. 
 
 'The decision rests with you. They must have 
 
 "']
 
 2o8 ATLANTIDA 
 
 your answer before midday. If it is 'yes,' we lunch 
 together at Voisin's, and the bargain is made.' 
 
 "I saw that she had ah-eady made up her mind, 
 but she thought it well to 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 perhaps that T am ruined. Yes, com- 
 pletely: I don't even know how I am going to pay 
 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 nave to put it 
 down to profit and loss. I am even convinced that 
 Sheik Ahmed will find that it resembles him,' 
 
 " 'You can turn everything into a joke,' she said 
 between laughing and crying. 
 
 "The next morning, at the same hour, the Mar- 
 seilles express carried away the five Tuareg and 
 Clementine. The young woman, radiant, was lean- 
 ing 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* 
 
 t( i\
 
 THE HITMAN OF JITOMIR'S STORY 209 
 
 "At the last moment, Clementine had a pang of 
 emotion. 
 
 *' 'Listen, Casimir, you have always been kind to 
 me. I am going to be a queen. If you weary of it 
 here, promise me, swear to me . . .' 
 
 "The Sheik had understood. He took a ring from 
 his finger and slipped it onto mine. 
 
 " 'Sidi Casimir, comrade,' he affirmed. 'You come 
 — find us. Take Sidi Ahmed's ring and show it. 
 Everybody at Ahaggar comrades. Bono Ahaggar, 
 bono.' 
 
 "When I came out of the Gare dc Lyou, I had the 
 feeling of having perpetrated an excellent joke." 
 
 The Hetman of Jitomir was completely drunk. I 
 had had the utmost difficulty in understanding the 
 end of his story, because he interjected, every other 
 moment, couplets from Jacques Offenbach's best 
 score. 
 
 Dans un bois passait tin jeune homme, 
 Un jeune hoinme frais et beau, 
 Sa main tenait line 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 of September, and 
 not the first sou, no, not the first sou. I take my hat
 
 2IO ATLANTIDA 
 
 and my courage and go to the Tulleries. No more 
 Emperor there, no ! But the Empress was so kind. 
 I found her alone — ah, people scatter quickly under 
 such circumstances! — alone with a senator, M. 
 Merimee, the only literary man I have ever known 
 who was at the same time a man of the world. 
 '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 al- 
 ways will know where her true friends are.' 
 
 "And I kissed her hand. 
 
 "Evohe, que les deesses 
 Ont de droles de fagons 
 Pour enjoler, pour enjoler, pour enjoler les gadar- 
 gonsf 
 
 "I returned to my home in the Rue de Lille. On 
 the way I encountered the rabble going from the 
 Corps IJgislatif to the Hotel de Ville. My mind 
 was made up. 
 
 " 'Madame,' I said to my wife, 'my pistols.' 
 '"What is the matter?' she asked, fright- 
 ened. 
 
 " 'All is lost. But there is still a chance to pre- 
 serve my honor. I am going to be killed on the bar- 
 ricades.' 
 
 •"Ahl Casimir,' she sobbed, falling into my
 
 me 
 
 THE HITMAN OF JITOMIR'S STORY 211 
 
 arms. 'I have misjudged you. Will you forgive 
 
 ?' 
 
 I forgive you, Aurelie,' I said with dignified 
 emotion. 'I have not always been right myself.' 
 
 "I tore myself away from this mad scene. It was 
 six o'clock. On the Rue de Bac, I hailed a cab on its 
 mad career. 
 
 " 'Twenty francs tip,' I said to the coachman, 'if 
 you get to the Gare de Lyon in time for the Mar- 
 seilles train, six thirty-seven.' " 
 
 The Hetman of Jitomir could say no more. He 
 had rolled over on the cushions and slept with 
 clenched fists. 
 
 I walked unsteadily to the great window. 
 
 The sun was rising, pale yellow, behind the sharp 
 blue mountains.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 HOURS OF WAITING 
 
 It was at night that Saint-Avit liked to tell me a 
 little of his enthralling history. He ga\x it to me in 
 short instalments, exact and chronological, never an- 
 ticipating the episodes of a drama whose tragic out- 
 come I knew already. Not that he Avished to obtain 
 more effect that way — I felt that he was far re- 
 moved from any calculation of that sort! Simply 
 from the extraordinary nervousness Into which he 
 was thrown by recalling such memories. 
 
 One evening, the mail from France had just ar- 
 rived. The letters that Chatelain had handed 
 us lay upon the little table, not yet opened. By the 
 light of the lamp, a pale halo In the midst of the 
 great black desert, we were able to recognize the 
 writing of the addresses. Oh! the victorious smile 
 of Salnt-Avit when, pushing aside all those letters, I 
 said to him In a trembling voice : 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 He acquiesced without further words. 
 
 WXT 
 
 Nothing can give you any idea of the fever I 
 
 212
 
 HOURS OF WAirix(, 213 
 
 was in from the day when the Ilctman of Jitomir 
 told mc of his adventures to the day when I found 
 myself in the presence of Antinca. The strangest 
 part was that the thought that I was, in a way, con- 
 demned to death, did not enter into this fever. On 
 the contrar)% it was stimulated by my desire for the 
 event which would be the signal of my downfall, the 
 summons from Antinea. But this summons was not 
 speedy in coming. And from this delay, arose my 
 unhealthy exasperation. 
 
 Did I have any lucid moments in the course of 
 these hours? I do not think so. I do not recall 
 having even said to myself, "What, aren't you 
 ashamed? Captive in an unheard of situation, you 
 not only are not trying to escape, but you even bless 
 your servitude and look forward to your ruin." I 
 did not even color my desire to remain there, to en- 
 joy the next step in the adventure, by the pretext 
 I might have given — unwillingness to escape without 
 Morhange. If I felt a vague uneasiness at not see- 
 ing him again, it was not because of a desire to know 
 that he was well and safe. 
 
 Well and safe, I knew him to be, moreover. The 
 Tuareg slaves of Antinea's household were certainly 
 not very communicative. The women were hardly 
 more loquacious. I heard, it is tnie, from Sydya 
 and Aguida, that my companion liked pomegranates 
 or that he could not endure koiiskous of bananas. 
 But if I asked for a different kind of information,
 
 214 ATLANTIDA 
 
 they fled, in fright, clown the long corridors. With 
 Tanit-Zerga, It was different. This child seemed to 
 have a distaste for mentioning before me anything 
 bearing in any way upon Antinea. Nevertheless, I 
 knew that she was devoted to her mistress with a 
 doglike fidelity. But she maintained an obstinate 
 silence if I pronounced her name or, persisting, the 
 name of Morhange. 
 
 As for the Europeans, I did not care to question 
 these sinister puppets. Besides, all three were diffi- 
 cult of approach. The Hetman of Jitomir was sink- 
 ing deeper and deeper into alcohol. What intelli- 
 gence remained to him, he seemed to have dissolved 
 the evening when he had invoked his youth for me. 
 I met him from time to time in the corridors that 
 had become all at once too narrow for him, hum- 
 ming in a thick voice a couplet from the music of 
 La Reine Hortense, 
 
 De ma fille Isabelle 
 Sots I'epoux a I'instant, 
 Car elle est la plus belle 
 Et tot, le plus vaillant. 
 
 As for Pastor Spardek, I would cheerfully have 
 killed the old skinflint. And the hideous little man 
 with the decorations, the placid printer of labels for 
 the red marble hall, — how could I meet him without 
 wanting to cry out in his face: "Eh! eh! Sir Pro- 
 fessor, a very curious case of apocope : * A.T\avriv€a.
 
 HOURS OF WAIl'ING 215 
 
 Suppression of alpha, of tau and of lambda! I 
 would like to direct your attention to another case 
 as curious : KXrjfMrjuTLuea, Clementine. Apocope of 
 kappa, of lamba, of epsilon and of mu. If Mor- 
 hange were with us, he would tell you many charm- 
 ing erudite things about it. But, alas! Morhange 
 does not deign to come among us any more. We 
 never see Morhange." 
 
 My fever for information found a little more fav- 
 orable reception from Rosita, the old negress mani- 
 cure. Never have I had my nails polished so often 
 as during those days of waiting! Now — after six 
 years — she must be dead. I shall not wrong her 
 memory by recording that she was very partial to 
 the bottle. The poor old soul was defenseless against 
 those that I brought her and that I emptied with her, 
 through politeness. 
 
 Unlike the other slaves, who are brought from 
 the South toward Turkey by the merchants of Rhat, 
 she was born in Constantinople and had been brought 
 into Africa by her master when he became ka'imakam 
 of Rhadames. . . . But don't let me complicate this 
 already wandering history by the incantations of 
 this manicure. 
 
 "Antinea," she said to me, "is the daughter of 
 El-Hadj-Ahmed-ben-Guemama, Sultan of Ahaggar, 
 and Sheik of the great and noble tribe of Kel-Rhela. 
 She was born in the year twelve hundred and eighty- 
 one of the Hegira. She has never wished to marry
 
 2i6 ATLANTIDA 
 
 any one. Her wish has been respected for the will 
 of women is sovereign in this Ahaggar 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 to Touat, and from Tchad to Senegal. 
 If she had wished it, she might have lived beautiful 
 and respected in the land of the Christians. But she 
 prefers to have them come to her." 
 
 "Cegheir-ben-Cheikh," I said, "do you know him? 
 He is entirely devoted to her?" 
 
 "Nobody here knows Cegheir-ben-Cheikh very 
 well, because he is continually traveling. It is true 
 that he is entirely devoted to Antinea. Cegheir-ben- 
 Cheikh is a Senoussi, and Antinea is the cousin of 
 the chief of the Senoussi. Besides, he owes his life 
 to her. He is one of the men who assassinated the 
 great Kebir Flatters. On account of that, Ikenouk- 
 hen, amenokol of the Adzjer Tuareg, fearing French 
 reprisals, wanted to deliver Cegheir-ben-Cheikh to 
 them. When the whole Sahara turned against him, 
 he found asylum with Antinea. Cegheir-ben-Cheikh 
 will never forget it, for he is brave and observes the 
 law of the Prophet. To thank her, he led to An- 
 tinea, who was then twenty years old, three French 
 officers of the first troops of occupation in Tunis. 
 They are the ones who are numbered, in the red 
 marble hall, i, 2, and 3." 
 
 "And Cegheir-ben-Cheikh has always fulfilled his 
 duties successfully?"
 
 HOURS OF WAITING 217 
 
 **Ceghcir-bcn-Chclkh Is well trained, and he knows 
 the vast Sahara as I know my little room at the top 
 of the mountain. At first, he made mistakes. That 
 is how, on his first trips, he brought back old Le 
 Mesge and marabout Spardek." 
 
 "What did Antinea say when she saw them?" 
 
 "Antinea? She laughed so liard that she spared 
 them. Ceghelr-ben-Cheikh was vexed to see her 
 laugh so. Since then, he has never made a mis- 
 take." 
 
 "He has never made a mistake?" 
 
 "No. I have cared for the hands and feet of all 
 that he has brought here. All were young and 
 handsome. But I think that your comrade, whom 
 they brought to me the other day, after you were 
 here, is the handsomest of all." 
 
 "Why," I asked, turning the conversation, "why, 
 since she spared them their 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 would soon 
 be here and, when they saw the hall of red marble, 
 they would massacre everybody. Besides, of all 
 those whom Ceghelr-ben-Cheikh has brought here, 
 no one, save one, has wished to escape after seeing 
 Antinea." 
 
 "She keeps them a long time?" 
 
 "That depends upon them and the pleasure that
 
 2i8 ATLANTIDA 
 
 she takes in them. Two months, three months, on 
 the average. It depends. A big Belgian officer, 
 formed like a colossus, didn't last a week. On the 
 other hand, everyone here remembers little Douglas 
 Kaine, an English officer: she kept him almost a 
 year." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "And then, he died," said the old woman as if 
 astonished at my question. 
 
 "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 that their time is ended, and that 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh has gone to find others. Sev- 
 eral have died quietly with tears in their great eyes. 
 They neither ate nor slept any more. A French 
 naval officer went mad. All night, he sang a sad 
 song of his native country, a song which echoed 
 through the whole mountain. Another, a Spaniard, 
 was as if maddened: he tried to bite. It was neces- 
 sary to kill him. Many have died of kif, a kif 
 that is more violent than opium. When they no 
 longer have Antinea, they smoke, smoke. Most 
 have died that way . . . the happiest. Little Kaine 
 died differently." 
 
 "How did little Kaine die?" 
 
 "In a way that pained us all very much. I told 
 you that he stayed longer among us than anyone
 
 HOURS OF WAITING 219 
 
 else. We had become used to him. In Antlnea's 
 room, on a little Kairoun table, painted in blue and 
 gold, there is a gong with a long silver hammer with 
 an ebony handle, very heavy. Aguida told me about 
 it. When Antinea gave little Kaine his dismissal, 
 smihng as she always does, he stopped in front of 
 her, mute, very pale. She struck, the gong for some- 
 one to take him away. A Targa slave came. But 
 little Kaine had leapt for the hammer, and the Targa 
 lay on the ground with his skull smashed. Antinea 
 smiled all the time. They led little Kaine to his 
 room. The same night, eluding guards, 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 greatest difficulty with his body. But 
 they succeeded very well. You have only to go see 
 for yourself. He occupies niche num.ber 26 in the 
 red marble hall." 
 
 The old woman drowned her emotion in her glass. 
 
 "Two days before," she continued, "I had done 
 his nails, here, for this was his room. On the wall, 
 near the window, he had written something 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 window through w^hich the English 
 officer had hurled himself, would have killed me with 
 overpowering emotion. But just then, another 
 thought was in my heart.
 
 220 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "Tell me," I said, controlling my voice as well as 
 I could, "v/hen Antinea holds one of us in her power, 
 she shuts him up near her, does she 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 to her im- 
 mediately." 
 
 "But my companion. I have not seen him since 
 she sent for him. . . ." 
 
 The negress smiled comprehendingly. 
 
 "If you have not seen him, it is because he pre- 
 fers to remain near her. Antinea does not force 
 him to. Neither does she prevent him." 
 
 I struck my jfist violently upon the table. 
 
 "Get along with you, old fool. And be quick 
 about it!" 
 
 Rosita fled frightened, hardly taking time to col- 
 lect her little instruments. 
 
 "Was it not Fate, that on this July midnight . . ." 
 
 I obeyed the negress's suggestion. Following the 
 corridors, losing my way, set on the right road again 
 by the Reverend Spardek, I pushed open the door 
 of the red marble hall. I entered. 
 
 The freshness of the perfumed crypt did me good. 
 No place can be so sinister that it is not, as It were, 
 purified by the murmur of running water. The cas- 
 cade, gurgling In the middle hall, comforted me.
 
 HOURS OF WAITING 221 
 
 One day before an attack I was lying with my section 
 in deep grass, waiting for the moment, the blast of 
 the bugle, which would demand that we leap for- 
 ward into the hail of bullets. A stream was at my 
 feet. I listened to its fresh rippling. I admired the 
 play of light and shade in the transparent water, the 
 little beasts, the little black, fish, the green grass, the 
 yellow wrinkled sand . . . The mystery of water 
 always has carried me out of myself. 
 
 Here, in this magic hall, my thoughts were held 
 by the dark cascade. It felt friendly. It kept 
 me from faltering in the midst of these 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 1 His face was 
 thin under the coat of orichalch. His mouth sad 
 and passionate. It was certainly he. Poor young- 
 ster. — Edinburgh, — I knew Edinburgh, without ever 
 having been there. From the wall of the castle you 
 can see the Pentland hills. "Look a little lower 
 down," said Stevenson's sweet Miss Flora to Anne 
 of Saint-Yves, "look a little lower down and you will 
 see, in the fold of the hill, a clump of trees and a 
 curl of smoke that rises from among them. That is 
 Swanston Cottage, w^here my brother and I live with 
 my aunt. If it really pleases you to see it, I shall be 
 glad." When he left for Darfour, Douglas Kaine
 
 222 ATLANTIDA 
 
 must surely have left in Edinburgh a Miss Flora, as 
 blonde as Saint-Yves' Flora. But what are these 
 slips of girls beside Antinea ! Kaine, however sen- 
 sible a mortal, however made for this kind of love, 
 had loved otherwise. He was dead. And here was 
 number 27, on account of whom Kaine dashed him- 
 self on the rocks of the Sahara, and who, in his turn, 
 is dead also. 
 
 To die, to love. How naturally the word resound- 
 ed in the red marble hall. How Antinea seemed to 
 tower above that circle of pale statues ! Does love, 
 then, need so much death in order that it may be mul- 
 tiplied? Other women, in other parts of the world, 
 are doubtless as beautiful as Antinea, more beauti- 
 ful perhaps. I hold you to witness that I have not 
 said much about her beauty. Why then, this obses- 
 sion, this fever, this consumption of all my being? 
 Why am I ready, for the sake of pressing this quiv- 
 ering form within my arms for one instant, to face 
 things that I dare not think of for fear I should 
 tremble before them? 
 
 Here is number 53, the last. Morhange will be 
 54. I shall be 55. In six months, eight, perhaps, — 
 what difference anyway? — I shall be hoisted into 
 this niche, an image without eyes, a dead soul, a 
 finished body. 
 
 I touched the heights of bliss, of exaltation 
 that can be felt. What a child I was, just now I 
 I lost my temper with a negro manicure. I was
 
 HOURS OF WAITING 223 
 
 jealous of Morhange, on my word! Wh^' not, 
 
 since I was at it, be jealous of those here nresent; 
 
 then of the others, the absent, who will come, 
 
 one by one, to fill the black circle of the still empty 
 
 niches. . . . Morhange, I know, is at this moment 
 
 with Antinea, and it is to 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 54 will receive its prey. Then a Targa slave 
 
 will advance toward me. I shall shiver with superb 
 
 ecstacy. He will touch my arm. And it will be my 
 
 turn to penetrate into eternity by the bleeding door 
 
 of love. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 When I emerged from my meditation, I found 
 myself back in the library, where the falling night 
 obscured the shadows of the people who were as- 
 sembled there. 
 
 I recognized M. Le Mesge, the Pastor, the Het- 
 man, Aguida, two Tuareg slaves, still more, all join- 
 ing in the most animated conference. 
 
 I drew nearer, astonished, even alarmed to see 
 together so many people who ordinarily felt no kind 
 of sympathy for each other. 
 
 An unheard of occurrence had thrown all the peo- 
 ple of the mountain into uproar. 
 
 Two Spanish explorers, come from Rio de Oro, 
 had been seen to the West, in Adhar Ahnet. 
 
 As soon as Cegheir-ben-Cheikh was in-
 
 224 ATLANTIDA 
 
 formed, he had prepared to go to meet 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.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE LAMENT OF TANIT-ZERGA 
 
 "Arraou, arraou." 
 
 I roused myself vaguely from the half sleep to 
 which I had finally succumbed. I half opened my 
 eyes. Immediately I flattened back. 
 
 "Arraour 
 
 Two feet from my face was the muzzle of King 
 Hiram, yellow with a tracery of black. The leopard 
 was helping me to wake up; otherwise he took little 
 interest, for he yawned; his dark red jaws, beautiful 
 gleaming 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 the divan where I was stretched out, 
 curiously watching my close interview with the 
 leopard. 
 
 "King Hiram was bored," she felt obliged to ex- 
 plain to me. "I brought him." 
 
 "How nice," I growled. "Only tell me, could he 
 
 not have gone somewhere else to be amused?" 
 
 "He is all alone now," said the girl. "They have 
 
 225
 
 226 ATLANTIDA 
 
 sent him away. He made 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 com- 
 mon misfortune brought us together. 
 
 I even caressed his rounded forehead. King 
 Hiram showed his contentment by stretching out at 
 full length and uncurling his great amber claws. The 
 mat on the floor had much to suffer. 
 
 "Gale is here, too," said the little girl. 
 
 "Gale I 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. Its pale 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 to laugh. I laughed, too. 
 
 "Gale is my friend," she said when she was seri- 
 ous again. "I saved her life. It was when she was 
 quite little. I will tell you about it some day. See 
 how good-natured she is."
 
 THE LAMENT OF TANIT-ZI- RGA 227 
 
 So saying, she dropped the mongoose on my 
 knees. 
 
 "It Is very nice of you, Tanit-Zerga," T said, "to 
 come and pay me a visit." I passed my hand slowly 
 over the animal's back. "What time Is It now?" 
 
 "A little after nine. See, the sun is already high. 
 Let me draw the shade." 
 
 The room was in darkness. Gale's eyes grew red- 
 der. King Hiram's became green. 
 
 "It is very nice of you," I repeated, pursuing my 
 idea. "I see that you 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 realized that she was beautiful. Her 
 hair, which she wore falling over her shoulders, was 
 not so much curly as It was gently waving. Her fea- 
 tures were of remarkable fineness: the nose very 
 straight, a small mouth with delicate lips, a strong 
 chin. She was not black, but copper colored. Her 
 slender graceful body had nothing in common with 
 the disgusting thick sausages which the carefully 
 cared for bodies of the blacks become. 
 
 A large circle of copper made a heav^ decoration 
 around her forehead and hair. She had four brace- 
 lets, still heavier, on her wrists and anklets, and, for 
 clothing, a green silk tunic, slashed in points, braided 
 with gold. Green, bronze, gold.
 
 228 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "You are a Sonrhai, Tanit-Zerga?" I asked 
 gently. 
 
 She replied with almost ferocious pride : 
 
 "I am a Sonrhai." 
 
 "Strange little thing," I thought. 
 
 Evidently this was a subject on which Tanit- 
 Zerga did not intend the conversation to turn. I re- 
 called how, almost painfully, she had pronounced 
 that "they," when she had told me how they had 
 driven away King Hiram. 
 
 "I am a Sonrhai," she repeated. "I was born at 
 Gao, on the Niger, the ancient Sonrhai capital. My 
 fathers reigned over the great Mandlgue Empire. 
 You need not scorn me because I am here as a 
 slave." 
 
 In a ray of sunlight. Gale, seated on his little 
 haunches, washed his shining mustaches with his 
 forepaws; and King Hiram, stretched out on the 
 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 with the others." 
 
 I did not answer. 
 
 "You must eat," she continued. "If you like, I 
 will go get something to eat for you and me. I will 
 bring King Hiram's and Gale's dinner here, too. 
 When you are sad, you should not stay alone."
 
 THE LAMENT OF TANIT-ZERGA 229 
 
 And the little green and gold fairy vanished, with- 
 out waiting for my answer. 
 
 That was how my friendship with Tanit-Zerga 
 began. Each morning she came to my room with 
 the two beasts. She rarely spoke to me of Antinea, 
 and when she did, it was always indirectly. The 
 question that she saw ceaselessly hovering on my 
 lips seemed to be unbearable to her, 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, like a nervous little parokeet. 
 
 I was sick and this Sister of Charity in green and 
 bronze silk tended me with such care as never was 
 before. The two wild beasts, the big and the little, 
 were there, each side of my couch, and, during my 
 delirium, I saw their mysterious, sad eyes fixed on 
 me. 
 
 In her melodious voice, Tanit-Zerga told me won- 
 derful stories, and among them, the one she thought 
 most wonderful, the story of her life. 
 
 It was not till much later, very suddenly, that I 
 realized how far this little barbarian had penetrated 
 into my own life. Wherever thou art at this hour, 
 dear little girl, from whatever peaceful shores thou 
 watchest my tragedy, cast a look at thy friend, par- 
 don him for not having accorded thee, from the very 
 first, the gratitude that thou deservedest so richly. 
 
 "I remember from my childhood," she said, "the
 
 230 ATLANTIDA 
 
 vision of a yellow and rose-colored sun rising 
 through the morning mists over the smooth waves 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 at the edge of the river where 
 there is water, under the jujube trees, brothers of 
 the zeg-zeg, the spines of which pierced the head of 
 your prophet and which we call 'the tree of Para- 
 dise' because our prophet told us that under it 
 would live those chosen of Paradise;^ and which is 
 sometimes so big, so big, that a horseman cannot tra- 
 verse its shade in a century. 
 
 "There we wove beautiful garlands with mimosa, 
 the pink flowers of the caper bush and white cockles. 
 Then we threw them in the green water to ward off 
 evil spirits ; and we laughed like mad things when a 
 great snorting hippopotamus raised his swollen head 
 and we bombarded him in glee until he had to plunge 
 back again with a tremendous splash. 
 
 "That was in the mornings. Then there fell on 
 Gao the deathlike lull of the red siesta. When that 
 
 1 The Koran, Chapter 66, verse 17. (Note by M. Leroux.)
 
 THE LAMENT OF TANIT-ZERGA 1231 
 
 was finished, we came back to the edge of the river 
 to see the enormous crocodiles with bronze goggle- 
 eyes creep along little by little, among the clouds of 
 mosquitoes and day-flies on the banks, and work their 
 way traitorously into the yellow ooze of the mud 
 flats. 
 
 "Then we bombarded them, as we had done the 
 hippopotamus in the morning; and to fete the sun 
 setting behind the black branches of the douldouls, 
 we made a circle, stamping our feet, then clapping 
 our hands, as we sang the SonrhaT hymn. 
 
 "Such were the ordinary occupations of free little 
 girls. But you must not think that we were only 
 frivolous; and I will tell you, if you like, how I, who 
 am talking to you, I saved a French chieftain who 
 must be vastly greater than yourself, to judge by 
 the number of gold ribbons he had on his white 
 sleeves. 
 
 "Tell me, little Tanit-Zerga," I said, my eyes else- 
 where. 
 
 "You have no right to smile," she said a little 
 aggriev^ed, "and to pay no attention to me. But never 
 mind! It is for myself that I tell these things, for 
 the sake of recollection. Above Gao, the Niger 
 makes a bend. There is a little promontory In the 
 river, thickly covered with large 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 the morning. Suddenly we heard an unfamiliar
 
 232 ATLANTIDA 
 
 noise m 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 gum 
 trees, followed by a column of black smoke, which 
 was scarcely flurried by the breeze that was spring- 
 ing up. 
 
 "It was a gunboat, turning the point, sending out 
 a wake that shook the overhanging bushes on each 
 side of the river. One could see that the red, white 
 and blue flag on die stem had drooped till it was 
 dragging 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 soon leapt ashore. 
 
 "The oldest, a French marabout, with a great 
 white burnous, who knew our language marvelously, 
 asked to speak to Sheik Sonni-Azkia. When my 
 father advanced and told him that it was he, the 
 marabout told him that the commandant of the Club 
 at Timbuctoo was very angry, that a mile from there 
 the gunboat had run on an invisible pile of logs, that 
 she had sprung a leak and that she could not so con- 
 tinue her voyage towards Ansango. 
 
 "My father replied that the French who pro- 
 tected the poor natives against the Tuareg were wel- 
 come : that It was not from evil design, but for fish 
 that they had built the barrage, and that he put all
 
 THE LAMENT OF TANIT-ZERGA 233 
 
 the resources of Gfio, Including the forge, at the dis- 
 position of the French chief, for repairing the gun- 
 boat. 
 
 "While they were talking, the French chief looked 
 at me and I looked at him. He was already middle- 
 aged, tall, with shoulders a little bent, and blue eyes 
 as clear as the stream whose name I bear. 
 
 'Come here, little one,' he said in his gentle 
 
 t( ti 
 
 voice 
 
 I am the daughter of Sheik Sonni-Azkia, and 
 I do only what I wish,' I replied, vexed at his in- 
 formality. 
 
 *' 'You are right,' he answered smiling, 'for you 
 are pretty. Will you give me the flowers that you 
 have around your neck?' 
 
 "It was a great necklace of purple hibiscus. I 
 held It out to him. He kissed me. The peace was 
 made. 
 
 "Meantime, under the direction of my father, the 
 native soldiers and strong men of the tribe had 
 hauled the gunboat Into a pocket of the river. 
 
 " 'There is work there for all day to-morrow, 
 Colonel,' said the chief mechanic, after inspecting 
 the leaks. 'We won't be able to get away before 
 the day after to-morrow. And, If we're to do that, 
 these lazy soldiers 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 little companions and I seek to distract him.
 
 234 ATLANTIDA 
 
 He listened to our most beautiful songs; and, to 
 thank, us, made us taste the good things that had 
 been brought from the boat for his dinner. He 
 slept in our great cabin, which my father gave up 
 to him; and for a long time, before I went to sleep, 
 I looked through the cracks of the cabin where I 
 lay with my mother, at the lights of the gunboat 
 trembling in red ripples on the surface of the dark 
 waves. 
 
 "That night, I had a frightful dream. I saw my 
 friend, the French officer, sleeping in peace, while 
 a great crow hung croaking above his head: 'Caw 
 — caw — the shade of the gum trees of Gao — caw, 
 caw — will avail nothing to-morrow night — caw, 
 caw — to the white chief nor to his escort.* 
 
 "Dawn had scarcely begun, when I went to find 
 the native soldiers. They were stretched out on the 
 bridge of the gunboat, taking advantage of 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 that the shade of the gum trees 
 of Gao would be fatal to your chief in the coming 
 night! . . .* 
 
 "And, as they all remained motionless, stretched 
 out, gazing at the sky, without even seeming to have 
 heard, I added:
 
 THE LAMENT OF TANIT-ZERGA 235 
 
 " 'And to his escort!' 
 
 It was the hour when the sun was highest, and the 
 Colonel was eating in the cabin with the other 
 Frenchmen, when the chief mechanic entered. 
 
 *' 'I don't know what has come over the natives. 
 They are working like angels. If they keep on this 
 way, Colonel, we shall be able to leave this evening.' 
 
 " 'Very good,' said the Colonel, 'but don't let 
 them spoil the job by too much haste. We don't 
 have to be at Ansango before the end of the week. 
 It will be better to start in the morning.' 
 
 "I trembled. Suppliantly I approached and told 
 him the story of my dream. He listened with a smile 
 of astonishment; then, at the last, he said gravely: 
 
 " 'It is agreed, little Tanit-Zerga. We will leave 
 this evening if you wish it.' 
 
 "And he kissed me. 
 
 "The darkness had already fallen when the gun- 
 boat, now repaired, left the harbor. My friend 
 stood in the midst of the group of Frenchmen who 
 waved their caps as long as we could see them. 
 Standing alone on the rickety jetty, I waited, watch- 
 ing the water flow by, until the last sound of the 
 steam-driven vessel, boum-baraboum, had died away 
 into the night.* 
 
 1 Cf. the records and the Bulletin de la Socifte de Geogra- 
 phic de Paris (1897) for the cruises on the Niger, made by the 
 Commandant of the Timbuctoo region, Colonel Joffre, Lieu- 
 tenants Baudry and Bluset, and by Father Hacquart of the 
 White Fathers. (Note by M. Leroux.)
 
 236 ATLANTIDA 
 
 Tanit-Zerga paused. 
 
 "That was the last night of Gao. While I was 
 sleeping and the moon was still 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 can never forget if you have once heard it. 
 When the sun rose, it found me, quite naked, run- 
 ning and stumbling towards the north with my little 
 companions, beside the swiftly moving camels of the 
 Tuareg who escorted us. Behind, followed the 
 women of the tribe, my mother among them, 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 of Gao beside my 
 father, brave Sonni-Azkia. Once again Gao had 
 been razed by a band of Awellimiden, who had come 
 to massacre the French on their gunboat. 
 
 "The Tuareg hurried us, hurried us, for they 
 were afraid of being pursued. We traveled thus 
 for ten days; and, as the millet and hemp disap- 
 peared, the march became more frightful. Finally, 
 near Isakeryen, in the country of Kidal, the Tuareg 
 sold us to a caravan of Trarzan Moors who were 
 going from Bamrouk to Rhat. At first, because they 
 went more slowly, it seemed good fortune. But, be- 
 fore long, the desert was an expanse of rough peb- 
 bles, and the women began to fall. As for the men, 
 the last of them had died far back under the blows 
 of the stick for having refused to go farther.
 
 THE LAiMENT OF TANIT-ZERGA 237 
 
 "I still had the strength to keep going, and even 
 as far in the lead as possible, so as not to hear the 
 cries of my little playmates. Each time one of them 
 fell by the way, unable to rise again, they saw one 
 of the drivers descend from his camel and drag her 
 into the bushes a little way to cut her throat. But 
 one day, I heard a cry that made me turn around. 
 It was my mother. She was kneeling, holding out 
 her poor arms to me. In an instant I was beside 
 her. But a great Moor, dressed in white, separated 
 us. A red moroccan case hung around his neck from 
 a black chaplet. He drew a cutlass from It. I can 
 still see the blue steel on the brown skin. Another 
 horrible cry. An instant later, driven by a club, I 
 was trotting ahead, swallowing my little tears, try- 
 ing to regain my place in the caravan. 
 
 "Near the wells of Asiou, the Moors were at- 
 tacked by a party of Tuareg of Kel-Tazeholet, serfs 
 of the great tribe of Kel-Rhela, which rules over 
 Ahaggar. They, in their turn, were massacred to the 
 last man. That is how I was brought here, and of- 
 fered as homage to Antinea, who was pleased with 
 me and ever since has been kind to me. That is why 
 it is no slave who soothes your fever to-day with 
 stones that you do not even listen to, but the last 
 descendant of the great Sonrhaf Emperors, of Sonnl- 
 Ali, the destroyer of men and of countries, of Mo- 
 hammed Azkia, who made the pilgrimage to Mecca, 
 taking with him fifteen hundred cavaliers and three
 
 238 ATLANTIDA 
 
 hundred thousand mithkal of gold In the days when 
 our power stretched without rival from Chad to 
 Touat and to the western sea, and when Gao raised 
 her cupola, sister of the sky, above the other cities, 
 higher above her rival cupolas -than Is the tamarisk 
 above the humble plants of sorghum."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE SILVER HAMMER 
 
 Je ne men defends plus et jc nc vcux qu' alter 
 Reconnaltre la place oil je dois I'immoler. 
 
 (Andromaque.) 
 
 It was this sort of a night when what I am going 
 to tell you now happened. Toward five o'clock the 
 sky clouded over and a sense of the coming storm 
 trembled in the stifling air. 
 
 I shall always remember it. It was the fifth of 
 January, 1897. 
 
 King Hiram and Gale lay heavily on the matting 
 of my room. Leaning on my elbows beside Tanit- 
 Zerga In the rock-hewn window, I spied the advance 
 tremors of lightning. 
 
 One by one they rose, streaking the now total 
 darkness with their bluish stripes. But no burst of 
 thunder followed. The storm did not attain the 
 peaks of Ahaggar. It passed without breaking, leav- 
 ing us In our gloomy bath of sweat. 
 
 "I am going to bed," said Tanlt-Zerga. 
 
 I have said that her room was above mine. Its 
 
 239
 
 240 ATLANTIDA 
 
 bay window was some thirty feet above that before 
 which I lay. 
 
 She took Gale In her arms. But King Hiram 
 would have none of It. Digging his four paws into 
 the matting, he whined in anger and uneasiness. 
 
 "Leave him," I finally said to Tanit-Zerga. "For 
 once he may sleep here." 
 
 So it was that this little beast Incurred his large 
 share of responsibility in the events which followed. 
 
 Left alone, I became lost In my reflections. The 
 night was black. The whole mountain was shrouded 
 In silence. 
 
 It took the louder and louder growls of the leop- 
 ard to rouse me from my meditation. 
 
 King Hiram was braced against the door, digging 
 at It with his drawn claws. He, who had refused 
 to follow Tanit-Zerga a while ago, now wanted 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 Morhange abandoned you, since the 
 day when you saw Antinea, you have had only one 
 Idea. What good Is It to beguile yourself with the 
 stories of Tanit-Zerga, charming as they are? This
 
 THE SILVER HAMMER 241 
 
 leopard Is a pretext, perhaps a guide. Oh, you know 
 that mysterious things arc going to happen to-night. 
 How have you heen able to keep from doing any- 
 thing as long as this?" 
 
 Immediately I made a resolve. 
 
 "If I open the door," I thought, "King Hiram 
 will leap down the corridor and I shall have great 
 difficulty in following him. I must find some other 
 way." 
 
 The shade of the window was worked by means 
 of a small cord. I pulled it down. Then I tied it 
 into a firm leash which I fastened to the metal 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 who dragged me along the shadowy 
 labyrinth of corridors. It was shortly before nine 
 o'clock, and the rose-colored night lights were al- 
 most burned out in the niches. Now and then, we 
 passed one which was casting its last flickers. What 
 a labyrinth ! I realized that from here on I would 
 not recognize the way to her room. I could only 
 follow the leopard. 
 
 At first furious, he gradually became used to tow- 
 ing me. He strained ahead, belly to the ground, 
 with snuffs of joy. 
 
 Nothing is more like one black corridor than an- 
 other black corridor. Doubt seized me. Suppose
 
 242 ATLANTIDA 
 
 I should suddenly find myself in the baccarat room! 
 But that was unjust to King Hiram. Barred too 
 long from the dear presence, the good beast was 
 taking me exactly where I wanted him to take me. 
 
 Suddenly, at a turn, the darkness ahead lifted. 
 A rose window, faintly glimmering red and green, 
 appeared before us. 
 
 The leopard stopped with a low growl before the 
 door in which the rose window was cut. 
 
 I recognized it as the door through which the 
 white Targa had led me the day after my arrival, 
 when I had been set upon by King Hiram, when I 
 had found myself in the presence of Antinea. 
 
 "We are much better friends to-day," I said, flat- 
 tering him so that he would not give a dangerously 
 loud growl. 
 
 I tried to open the door. The light, coming 
 through the window, fell upon the floor, green and 
 red. 
 
 A simple latch, which I turned. I shortened the 
 leash to have better control of King Hiram who was 
 getting nervous. 
 
 The great room where I had seen Antinea for 
 the first time was completely dark. But the garden 
 on which it gave shone under a clouded moon, in a 
 sky weighted down with the storm which did not 
 break. Not a breath of air. The lake gleamed like 
 a sheet of pewter. 
 
 I seated myself on a cushion, holding the leopard
 
 THE SILVER HAMMER 243 
 
 firmly between my knees. He was purring with im- 
 patience. I was thinlcing. Not about my goal. 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 voices seemed 
 to come. I followed him, stumbling as quietly as I 
 could among the scattered cushions. 
 
 My eyes, become accustomed to the darkness, 
 could see the pyramid of cushions on which Antinea 
 had first appeared to me. 
 
 Suddenly I stumbled. The leopard had stopped. 
 I realized that I had stepped on his tail. Brave 
 beast, he did not make a sound. 
 
 Groping along the wall, I felt a second door. 
 Quietly, very quietly, I opened it as I had opened 
 the preceding one. The leopard whimpered feebly. 
 
 "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 shook with happiness. 
 
 In front of us, lighted in the center, another room 
 opened up. In the middle six men were squatting on 
 the matting, playing dice and drinking coffee from 
 tiny copper coffee cups with long stems. 
 
 They were the white Tuareg.
 
 244 ATLANTIDA 
 
 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 light and shadow, made a strange etch- 
 ing. 
 
 They played with a reserved dignity, announcing 
 the throws in raucous voices. 
 
 Then, slowly, very slowly, I slipped the leash from 
 the collar of the impatient 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 white Tuareg, sowing confusion in 
 the bodyguard. Another leap carried him into the 
 shadow again. I made out vaguely the shaded open- 
 ing of another corridor on the side of the room oppo- 
 site where I was standing. 
 
 "There !" I thought. 
 
 The confusion in the room was indescribable, but 
 noiseless. One realized the restraint which near- 
 ness to a great presence imposed upon the exasper- 
 ated guards. The stakes and the dice-boxes had 
 rolled in one direction, the copper cups, in the other. 
 
 Two of the Tuareg, doubled up with pain, were 
 rubbing their ribs with low oaths. 
 
 I need not say that I profited by this silent con- 
 fusion to glide into the room. I was now flattened
 
 THE SILVER HAMMER 245 
 
 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 which seized 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. I was perfectly calm. My least 
 movement was perfectly calculated. 
 
 "All that I risk here now," I said to myself, "is 
 being led back politely to my room." 
 
 The Targa lifted a curtain. I followed on his 
 heels into the chamber of Antinea. 
 
 The room was huge and at once well lighted and 
 very dark. While the right half, where x^ntinea 
 was, gleamed under shaded lamps, the left was 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, its opening cov- 
 ered by a curtain. One mounts to it by wooden 
 steps. I noticed such a guignol at my left. I crept 
 into it. My pulses beat in 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 multi- 
 colored lanterns cast a vague and gentle light over 
 gleaming stuffs and furs. 
 
 Antinea was stretched out on a lion's skin, smok-
 
 246 ATLANTIDA 
 
 ing. A little silver tray and pitcher lay beside her. 
 King Hiram was flattened out at her feet, licking 
 them madly. 
 
 The Targa slave stood rigid before her, one 
 hand on his heart, the other 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 be alone." 
 
 "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 mahciously, 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 Targa answered. 
 '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. 
 
 "]
 
 THE SILVER HAMMER 247 
 
 A pallor overspread the Atlantide's little fore- 
 head. 
 
 "Go get him," she said brusquely. 
 
 Bowing, the Targa left the room. 
 
 I listened to this dialogue with great anxiety. Was 
 this Morhange? Had he been faithful to me, after 
 all? Had I suspected him unjustly? He had 
 wanted to see me and been unable to! 
 
 My eyes never left Antinea's. 
 
 She was no longer the haughty, mocking princess 
 of our first interview. She no longer wore the golden 
 circlet on her forehead. Not a bracelet, not a ring. 
 She was dressed only in a full flowing tunic. Her 
 black hair, unbound, lay in masses of ebony over her 
 slight shoulders and her bare arms. 
 
 Her beautiful eyes were deep circled. Her di- 
 vine mouth drooped. I did not know whether I was 
 glad or sorry to see this new quivering Cleopatra. 
 
 Flattened at her feet, King Hiram gazed submis- 
 sively at her. 
 
 An immense orichalch mirror with golden reflec- 
 tions was set into the wall at the right. Suddenly 
 she raised herself erect before it. I saw her nude. 
 
 A splendid and bitter sight! — A woman who 
 thinks herself alone, standing before her mirror in 
 expectation of the man she wishes to subdue I 
 
 The six incense-burners scattered about the room 
 sent up invisible columns of perfume. The balsam 
 spices of Arabia wore floating webs in which my
 
 248 ATLANTIDA 
 
 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 im- 
 mediately fell back into the nonchalant pose in which 
 I had first seen her. One had to see such a transfor- 
 mation 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 expression of serene peace on that face 
 which I thought I knew so well. I felt that I never 
 had understood what manner of man Morhange 
 was, never. 
 
 He stood erect before Antinea without seeming 
 to notice her gesture Inviting him to be seated. 
 
 She smiled at him. 
 
 *'You are surprised, perhaps," she said finally, 
 "that I should send for 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 Antlnea's face the effort It cost 
 her to continue smiling; I admired the self-control 
 of these two beings. 
 
 "I sent for you," she continued. "You do not 
 guess why? . . . Well, it is to tell you something 
 that you do not expect. It will be no surprise to you 
 If I say that I never met a man like you. During
 
 T II E SILVER II A M M E R 249 
 
 your captivity, you have expressed only one wish. 
 Do you recall it?" 
 
 "I asked your permission to see my friend before 
 I died," said Morhange simply. 
 
 I do not know what stirred me more on hearing 
 these words: delight at Morhange's formal tone in 
 speaking to Antinea, or emotion at hearing the 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 him again. And I am going 
 to do something else. You will perhaps scorn me 
 even more when you realize that you had only to 
 oppose me to bend me to your will — I, who have 
 bent all other wills to mine. But, however that may 
 be, it is decided: I give you both your liberty. To- 
 morrow Cegheir-ben-Cheikh will lead you past the 
 fifth enclosure. Are you satisfied?" 
 
 "I am," said Morhange with a mocking smile. 
 
 "That will give me a chance," he continued, "to 
 make better plans for the next trip I intend to make 
 this way. For you need not doubt that I shall feel 
 bound to return to express my gratitude. Only, next 
 time, to render so great a queen the honors due her, 
 I shall ask my government to furnish me with two 
 or three hundred European soldiers and several 
 cannon." 
 
 Antinea was standing up, very pale. 
 
 "What are you saying?"
 
 250 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "I am saying," said Morhange coldly, "that I 
 foresaw this. First threats, then promises." 
 
 Antinea stepped toward him. He had folded his 
 arms. He looked at her with a sort of grave pity. 
 
 "I will make you die in the most atrocious ago- 
 nies," she said finally. 
 
 "I am your prisoner," Morhange replied. 
 
 "You shall suffer things that you cannot even imag- 
 ine." 
 
 "I am your prisoner," repeated Morhange in the 
 same sad calm. 
 
 Antinea paced the room like a beast in a cage. 
 She advanced toward my companion and, no longer 
 mistress of herself, struck him in the face. 
 
 He smiled and caught hold of her, drawing her 
 little wrists together with a strange mixture of force 
 and gentleness. 
 
 King Hiram growled. I thought he was about to 
 leap. But the cold eyes of Morhange held him fas- 
 cinated. 
 
 "I will have your comrade killed before your 
 eyes," gasped Antinea. 
 
 It seemed to me that Morhange paled, but only 
 for a second. I was overcome by the nobility and 
 insight of his reply. 
 
 "My companion is brave. He does not fear 
 death. And, in any case, he would prefer death to 
 life purchased at the price you name." 
 
 So saying, he let go Antinea's wrists. Her pallor
 
 THE SILVER HAMMER 251 
 
 was terrible. From the expression of her mouth I 
 felt that this would be her last word to him. 
 
 "Listen," she said. 
 
 How beautiful she was, in her scorned majesty, 
 her beauty powerless for the first time! 
 
 "Listen," she continued. "Listen. For the last 
 time. Remember that I hold the gates of this palace, 
 that I have supreme power over your life. Remem- 
 ber that you breathe only at my pleasure. Remem- 
 ber . . ." 
 
 "I have remembered all that," said Morhange. 
 
 "A last time," she repeated. 
 
 The serenity of Morhange's face was so power- 
 ful that I scarcely noticed his opponent. In that 
 transfigured countenance, no trace of worldliness re- 
 mained. 
 
 "A last time," came Antinea's voice, almost break- 
 ing. 
 
 Morhange was not even looking at her. 
 
 "As you will," she said. 
 
 Her gong resounded. She had struck the silver 
 disc. The white Targa appeared. 
 
 "Leave the room!" 
 
 Morhange, his head held high, went out. 
 
 Now Antlnea is in my arms. This is no haughty, 
 voluptuous woman whom I am pressing to my heart. 
 It is only an unhappy, scorned little girl. 
 
 So great was her trouble that she showed no sur-
 
 252 ATLANTIDA 
 
 prise when I stepped out beside her. Her head is 
 on my shoulder. Like the crescent moon In the 
 black clouds, I see her clear little bird-like profile 
 amid her mass of hair. Her warm arms hold me 
 convulsively. ... tremblant coeur humain. . . . 
 Who could resist such an embrace, amid the soft 
 perfumes, In the langorous 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 seems as If the 
 golden lanterns are waving from the celling like 
 giant censers. Is this my voice, the voice repeating 
 In a dream: 
 
 "Ask me what you will, and I will do It. I will 
 do It." 
 
 Antlnea's face Is almost touching mine. A strange 
 light flickers In her great eyes. 
 
 Beyond, I see the gleaming eyes of King Hiram. 
 Beside him, there Is a little table of Kalrouan, blue 
 and gold. On that table I see the gong with which 
 Antlnea summons the slaves. I see the hammer with 
 which she struck It just now, a hammer with a long 
 ebony handle, a heavy silver head , . . the hammer 
 with which little Lieutenant Kaine dealt death. . . . 
 I see nothing more. . . .
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE MAIDENS OF THE ROCKS 
 
 I AWAKENED In my room. The sun, already at 
 its zenith, filled the place 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 events began 
 to come back to me. 
 
 My head felt stupid and heavy. My mind wan- 
 dered. My memory seemed blocked. "I went out 
 with the leopard, that is certain. That red mark on 
 my forefinger shows how he strained at the leash. 
 My knees are still dusty. I remember creeping along 
 the wall in the room where the white Tuareg were 
 playing at dice. That was the minute after King 
 Hiram had leapt past them. After that . . . oh, 
 Morhange and ./\ntinea. . . . And then?" 
 
 I recalled nothing more. I recalled nothing more. 
 But something must have happened, something which 
 I could not remember. 
 
 I was uneasy. I wanted to go back, yet it seemed 
 
 253
 
 254 ATLANTIDA 
 
 as if I were afraid to go. I have never felt any- 
 thing more painful than those conflicting emotions. 
 
 "It is a long way from here to Antinea's apart- 
 ments. I must have been very sound asleep not to 
 have noticed when they brought me back — for they 
 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 me mad." 
 
 I had to see someone, no matter whom. Mechan- 
 ically, I walked toward the library. 
 
 I found M. Le Mesge in a transport of delirious 
 joy. The Professor was engaged in opening an 
 enormous bale, carefully sewed in a brown blanket. 
 
 "You come at a good time, sir," he cried, on seeing 
 me enter. "The magazines have just arrived." 
 
 He dashed about in feverish haste. Presently a 
 stream of pamphlets and magazines, blue, green, 
 yellow and salmon, was bursting from an opening in 
 the bale. 
 
 "Splendid, splendid I" he cried, dancing with joy. 
 "Not too late, either; here are the numbers for 
 October fifteenth. We must give a vote of thanks 
 to good Ameur." 
 
 His good spirits were contagious. 
 
 "There is a good Turkish merchant who sub- 
 scribes to all the interesting magazines of the two 
 continents. He sends them on by Rhadames to a
 
 THE MAIDENS OF THE ROCKS 255 
 
 destination which he little suspects. Ah, here arc 
 the French ones." 
 
 M. Le Mesge ran feverishly over the tables of 
 contents. 
 
 ''Internal politics: articles by Francis Charmes, 
 Anatole Leroy-Beaulieu, d'llaussonville on the 
 Czar's trip to Paris. Look, a study by Avenel of 
 wages in the Middle Ages. And verse, verses of the 
 young poets, Fernand Gregh, Edmond Haraucourt. 
 Ah, the resume of a book by Henry de Castries on 
 Islam. That may be interesting. . . . Take what 
 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 Revue des Deux 
 Mondes. 
 
 I did not read, but flipped over the pages, my eyes 
 now on the lines of swarming little black characters, 
 now on the rocky basin which lay shivering, pale 
 pink, under the declining sun. 
 
 Suddenly my attention became fixed. There was 
 a strange coincidence between the text and the land- 
 scape. 
 
 "In the sky overhead were only light shreds of 
 cloud, like bits of white ash floating up from burnt- 
 out logs. The sun fell over a circle of rocky peaks, 
 silhouetting their severe lines against the azure sky.
 
 256 A T L A N T I D A 
 
 From on high, a great sadness and gentleness poured 
 down Into the lonely enclosure, lijce a magic drink 
 into a deep cup. . . ."^ 
 
 I turned the pages fev^erishly. My mind seemed 
 to be clearing. 
 
 Behind me, M. Le Mesge, deep In an article, 
 voiced his opinions In Indignant growls. 
 
 I continued reading: 
 
 "On all sides a magnificent view spread out be- 
 fore us In the raw light. The chain of rocks, clearly 
 visible In their barren desolation which stretched to 
 the very summit, lay stretched out like some great 
 heap of gigantic, unformed things left by some prim- 
 ordial race of Titans to stupefy human beings. 
 Overturned towers . . ." 
 
 "It is shameful, downright shameful," the Profes- 
 sor was repeating. 
 
 "Overturned towers, crumbling citadels, cupolas 
 fallen in, broken pillars, 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 the distances . . ." 
 
 "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 my eyes, infinitely enlarged, every 
 
 1 Gabrielle d'Annunzio : Les Vierges aux Rochers. Cf. The 
 Revue des Deux Mondes of October 15, 1896; page 867.
 
 THE MAIDENS OF THE ROCKS 257 
 
 contour of the rock which Violaiite had shown me 
 through the window with the gesture of a creator. 
 
 Trembling, I closed the magazine. At my feet, 
 now red, I saw the rock which 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 the subject, you will see that this 
 article on Roman Africa Is a miracle of misinforma- 
 tion, a monument of ignorance. And it Is signed . . . 
 do you know by whom It Is signed?" 
 
 "Leave me alone," I said brutally. 
 
 "Well, It Is signed Gaston Boissler. Yes, sir! 
 Gaston Boissler, grand officer of the Legion of 
 Honor, lecturer at the Ecolc Norinale Supcrieitre, 
 permanent secretary of the French Academy, mem- 
 ber of the Academy of Inscriptions and Literature, 
 one of those who once ruled out 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 was covered with sweat. But 
 it seemed as If my head had been cleared like a room
 
 258 ATLANTIDA 
 
 when a window is opened; memories were beginning 
 to come back like doves winging their way home to 
 the dovecote. 
 
 "At that moment, an irrepressible tremor shook 
 her whole body; her eyes 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 suffer- 
 ing which drew her dear lips together seemed also to 
 clutch at my heart. The vision which was in her 
 eyes passed into mine, and I saw again the thin white 
 face of Antonello, and the quick quivering of his 
 eyelids, the waves of agony which 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 cut the cords of the bale, a short 
 ebony-handled dagger, one of those daggers that the 
 Tuareg wear in a bracelet sheath against the upper 
 left arm. 
 
 I slipped it into the big pocket of my flarmel dol- 
 man and walked toward the door. 
 
 I was about to cross the threshold when I heard 
 M. Lc Mesge call me. 
 
 "Monsieur de Saint Avit! Monsieur de Saint 
 Avit!"
 
 THE MAIDENS OF THE ROCKS 259 
 
 "I want to ask you something, please." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "Nothing important. You know that I have to 
 mark the labels for the red marble hall. . . ." 
 
 I walked toward the table. 
 
 "Well, I forgot to ask M. Morhange, at the be- 
 ginning, the date and place of his birth. After that, 
 I had no chance. I did not see him again. 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 con- 
 tained several and dipped his pen. 
 
 "Number 54 . . . Captain?" 
 
 "Captain Jean-Marie-Franqois Morhange." 
 
 While I dictated, one hand resting on the table, I 
 noticed on my cuff a stain, a little stain, reddish 
 brown. 
 
 "Morhange," repeated M. Le Mesge, finishing 
 the lettering of my friend's name. "Born at . . , ?" 
 
 "Villefranche." 
 
 "Villefranche, Rhone. What date?" 
 
 "The fourteenth of October, 1859." 
 
 "The fourteenth of October, 1859. Good. Died 
 at Ahaggar, the fifth of January, 1897. . . . There, 
 that is done. A thousand thanks, sir, for your kind- 
 
 ness." 
 
 "You are welcome." 
 I left M. Le Mesge.
 
 26o ATLANTIDA 
 
 My mind, thenceforth, was well made up; and, 
 as I said, I was perfectly calm. Nevertheless, when 
 I had taken leave of M. Le Mesge, I felt the need 
 of waiting a few minutes before executing my de- 
 cision. 
 
 First I wandered through the corridors; then, 
 finding myself near my room, I went to it. It was 
 still intolerably hot. I sat down on my divan and 
 began to think. 
 
 The dagger in my pocket bothered me. I took it 
 out and laid it on the floor. 
 
 It was a good dagger, with a diamond-shaped 
 blade, and with a collar of orange leather between 
 the blade and the handle. 
 
 The sight of it recalled the silver hammer. I re- 
 membered how easily it fitted 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 kill the instiga- 
 tor of the murder permitted me peacefully to evoke 
 its brutal details. 
 
 If I reflected over my deed, it was to be surprised 
 at it, not to condemn myself. 
 
 "Well," I said to myself, "I have killed this Mor- 
 hange, who was once a baby, who, like all the oth- 
 ers, cost his mother so much trouble with his baby 
 sicknesses. I have put an end to his life, I have 
 reduced to nothingness the monument of love, of
 
 THE MAIDENS OF THE ROCKS 261 
 
 tears, of trials overcome and pitfalls escaped, which 
 constitutes a human existence. What an extraordi- 
 nary adventure !" 
 
 That was all. No fear, no remorse, none of that 
 Shakespearean horror after the murder, which, to- 
 day, sceptic though I am and blase and utterly, ut- 
 terly disillusioned, sets me shuddering whenever I 
 am alone In 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 through the motion of striking. All 
 was well. The dagger fitted into my hand. 
 
 I had been through Antinea's apartment only 
 when guided, the first time by the white Targa, the 
 second time, by the leopard. Yet I found the 
 way again without trouble. Just before com- 
 ing to the door with the rose window, I met a 
 Targa. 
 
 "Let me pass," I ordered. "Your mistress has 
 sent for me." 
 
 The man obeyed, stepping back. 
 
 Soon a dim melody came to my ears. I recog- 
 nized 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 w^omen were also squatted about 
 her. Tanit-Zerga was not there. 
 
 Oh! Since that was the last time I saw her, let,
 
 262 ATLANTIDA 
 
 oh, let me tell you of Antinea, how she looked in 
 that supreme moment. 
 
 Did she feel the danger hovering over her and 
 did she wish to brave it by her surest artifices? I 
 had in mind the slender, unadorned body, without 
 rings, without jewels, which I had pressed to my 
 heart the night before. And now I started in sur- 
 prise 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. On her head was the great 
 gold pschent of Egyptian gods and kings ; emeralds, 
 the national stone of the Tuareg, were set in it, trac- 
 ing and retracing her name in Tifinar characters. A 
 red satin schenti, embroidered in golden lotus, en- 
 veloped her like the casket of a jewel. At her feet, 
 lay an ebony scepter, headed with a trident. Her 
 bare arms were encircled by two serpents whose 
 fangs touched her armpits as if to bury themselves 
 there. From the ear pieces of the pschent streamed 
 a necklace of emeralds; its first strand passed under 
 her determined 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 before her. 
 
 She looked at me ironically. 
 
 "What is that?" she asked with perfect calm.
 
 THE MAIDENS OF THE ROCKS 263 
 
 I followed her gesture. The handle of the dagger 
 protruded from my pocket. 
 
 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 the red 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 to my room to get the silver ham- 
 mer? You are more adroit with it than with the 
 dagger." 
 
 "Antinea," I said In a low voice, "I am going to 
 kill you." 
 
 "Do not speak so formally. You were more af- 
 fectionate last night. Are you embarrassed by 
 them?" she said, pointing to the women, whose eyes 
 were wide with terror. 
 
 "Kill me?" she went on. "You are hardly reason- 
 able. Kill me at the moment when you can reap the 
 fruits of the murder of . . ." 
 
 "Did — did he suffer?" I asked suddenly, tremb- 
 ling. 
 
 "Very little. I told you that you used the hammer 
 as if you had done nothing else all your life." 
 
 "Like little Kaine," I murmured. 
 
 She smiled In surprise. 
 
 "Oh, you know that story. . . . Yes, like little
 
 264 A T L A N T I D A 
 
 Kaine. But at least Kaine 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 one question?" 
 
 "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 and fled 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," said An- 
 tinea. "But he did know." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "He did know . . . because I told him," she said, 
 staring at me with magnificent audacity. 
 
 "And," I murmured, "he—he beheved it?" 
 
 "With the help of my explanation, he recognized 
 your shriek. If he had not realized that you were
 
 THE MAIDENS OF THE ROCKS 265 
 
 his murderer, the affair would not have interested 
 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 white Tuareg 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 my enemies lay on the floor, ten 
 feet away, felled by a well-placed blow on the jaw. 
 Another was gasping under my knee. That was the 
 last time I saw Antinea. She stood erect, both hands 
 resting on her ebony scepter, watching the struggle 
 with a smile of contemptuous interest. 
 
 Suddenly I gave a loud cry and loosed the hold 
 I had on my victim, A cracking in my left arm : one 
 of the Tuareg had seized it and twisted until my 
 shoulder was dislocated. 
 
 When I completely lost consciousness, I was being 
 carried down the corridor by two white phantoms, 
 so bound that I could not move a muscle.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE FIRE-FLIES 
 
 Through the great open window, waves of pale 
 moonlight surged into my room. 
 
 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 my shoulder. The events of the after- 
 noon came back to my poor harassed mind. 
 
 "Oh, little one, if you knew!" 
 
 "I know," she said. 
 
 I was weaker than a baby. After the overstrain 
 of the day had come a fit of utter nervous depres- 
 sion. A lump rose in my throat, choking me. 
 
 "If you knew, if you only knew! . . . Take me 
 away, little one. Get me away from here." 
 
 "Not so loud," she whispered. "There is a white 
 
 Targa on guard at the door." 
 
 "Take me away; save me," I repeated 
 
 266
 
 THE FIRK- FLIES 267 
 
 *'That is what I came for," she said simply. 
 
 I looked at her. She no longer was wearing her 
 beautiful red silk tunic. A plain white haik was 
 wrapped about her; and she had drawn one comer 
 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 Gao, the vnllage on the bank of the 
 river, and the blue gum trees, and the green 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 dared speak 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 my shoulder. 
 
 "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 perpendicular line halved its blue open- 
 ing. 
 
 Tanit-Zerga went to the window. I saw her 
 standing erect on the sill. A knife shone In her
 
 268 ATLANTIDA 
 
 hands. She cut the rope at the top of the opening. 
 It shpped 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, searching for those invisible rocks, 
 the rocks upon which little Kaine had dashed him- 
 self. 
 
 "That way!" I exclaimed, shuddering. "Why, 
 it is two hundred feet from here to the ground." 
 
 "The rope is two hundred and fifty," she replied. 
 "It is a good strong rope which I stole in the oasis; 
 they used it in felling trees. It is quite 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 of the window 
 is a marble column. By twisting the rope around 
 one of them, I can let you slip down and scarcely 
 feel your weight. 
 
 "And look," she continued, "I have made a big 
 knot every ten feet. I can 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 and follow. There are the knots on
 
 THE F I R E - F L I E S 269 
 
 which to rest if the rope cuts my hands too much. 
 But don't be afraid: I am very agile. At Gao, 
 when I was just a child, I used to climb almost as 
 high as this in the gum trees to take the little toucans 
 out of their nests. It is even easier to climb down." 
 
 "And when we are down, how will we get out? 
 Do you know the way through the barriers?" 
 
 "No one knows the way through the barriers," she 
 said, "except Cegheir-ben-Chcikh, and perhaps An- 
 tinea." 
 
 "Then?" 
 
 "There are the camels of Cegheir-ben-Cheikh, 
 those which he uses on his forays. I untethered the 
 strongest one and led him out, just below us, and 
 gave him lots of hay so that he will not make a sound 
 and will be 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 to see Gao once again, Gao 
 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 of the desert than stay here. Let 
 
 us start." 
 
 Tut!" she said. "Not yet." 
 She showed me that the dizzy descent was in bril- 
 liant moonlight. 
 
 "Not yet. We must wait. They would see us.
 
 270 ATLANTIDA 
 
 In an hour, the moon will have circled behind the 
 mountain. That will be the time." 
 
 She sat silent, her haik wrapped completely about 
 her dark little figure. Was she praying? Perhaps. 
 
 Suddenly I no longer saw her. Darkness had 
 crept in the window. The moon had turned. 
 
 Tanit-Zerga's hand was on my arm. She drew 
 me toward the abyss. I tried not to tremble. 
 
 Everything below us was in shadow. In a low, 
 firm voice, Tanit-Zerga began to speak: 
 
 "Everything Is ready. I have twisted the rope 
 about the pillar. Here is the slip-knot. Put It under 
 your arms. Take this cushion. Keep it pressed 
 against your hurt shoulder. ... A leather cushion. 
 ... It is tightly stuffed. Keep face to the wall. It 
 will protect you against the bumping and scrap- 
 mg. 
 
 I was now master of myself, very calm. I sat 
 down on the sill of the window, my feet In the 
 void. A breath of cool air from the peaks refreshed 
 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. You will open the box. There are 
 fire-flies in it; I shall see them and follow you." 
 
 She held my hand a moment. 
 
 "Now go," she murmured. 
 
 I went. 
 
 I remember only one thing about that descent: I
 
 THE FIRE-FLIES 271 
 
 was overcome with vexation when the rope stopped 
 and I found myself, feet danghng, against the per- 
 fectly smooth wall. 
 
 "What is the little fool waiting for?" I said to 
 myself. **I have been hung here for a quarter of an 
 hour. Ah ... at last! Oh, here I am stopped 
 again." Once or twice I thought I was reaching the 
 ground, but it was only a projection from the rock. 
 I had to give a quick shove with my foot. . . . 
 Then, suddenly, I found myself seated on the ground. 
 I stretched out my hands. Bushes. ... A thorn 
 pricked my finger. I was down. 
 
 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 of the 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 inky night. I saw them rise higher and 
 higher against the rocky wall. Their pale rose 
 aureols gleamed faintly. Then, one by one, they 
 turned, disappeared. 
 
 "You are tired, SIdl Lieutenant. Let me hold 
 the rope." 
 
 Ceghelr-ben-Cheikh rose up at my side. 
 
 I looked at his tall black silhouette. I shuddered.
 
 272 ATLANTIDA 
 
 but I did not let go 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 great dark phantom. And I 
 ask you, what could I, with a dislocated shoulder, do 
 against that man whose agile strength I already 
 knew? What was there to do? I saw him but- 
 tressed against the wall, holding the rope with both 
 hands, with both feet, with all his body, much bet- 
 ter than I had been able to do. 
 
 A rustling above our heads. A little shadowy 
 form. 
 
 "There," said Cegheir-ben-Cheikh, seizing the 
 little shadow in his powerful arms and placing her 
 on the ground, while the rope, let slack, 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 teeth chattering with terror. 
 
 We reached a little cave. 
 
 "Go in," said the Targa. 
 
 He lighted a torch. The red light showed a su- 
 perb mehari peacefully chewing his cud.
 
 THE FIRE-FLIES 273 
 
 "The little one Is not stupid," said Cegheir-ben- 
 Cheikh, pointing to the 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 onlv 
 saddled him. No water, no food. At this hour, 
 three days from now, all three of you would have 
 been dead on the road, and on what a road!" 
 
 Tanit-Zerga's teeth no longer chattered. She was 
 looking at the Targa with a mixture of terror and 
 hope. 
 
 "Come here, Sidi Lieutenant," said Cegheir-ben- 
 Cheikh, "so that I can explain to you." 
 
 When I was beside him, he said: 
 
 "On each side there is a skin of water. Make that 
 water last as long as possible, for you are going to 
 cross a terrible country. It may be that 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, sidl. Try not to use it except to shoot ante- 
 lopes. And there Is this." 
 
 He spread out a roll of paper. I saw his In- 
 scrutible face bent over it; his eyes were smiling; 
 he looked at me. 
 
 "Once out of the enclosures, what way did you 
 plan to go?" he asked.
 
 274 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "Toward Ideles, to retake the route where you 
 met the Captain and me," I said. 
 
 Cegheir-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 been caught and massacred." 
 
 "Toward the north is Ahaggar," he continued, 
 "and all Ahaggar is under the control of Antlnea. 
 You must go south." 
 
 "Then we shall go south." 
 
 "By what route?" 
 
 "Why, by Silet and Timassao." 
 
 The Targa again shook his head. 
 
 "They will look for you on that road also," he 
 said. "It is a good road, the road with the wells. 
 They know that you are familiar with it. The Tua- 
 reg would not fail to wait at the wells." 
 
 "Well, then?" 
 
 "Well," said Cegheir-ben-Cheikh, "you must not 
 rejoin the road from Timassao to Timbuctoo until 
 you are four hundred miles from here toward Ifer- 
 ouane, or better still, at the spring of Telemsi. That 
 Is the boundary between the Tuareg of Ahaggar and 
 the AwelHmiden Tuareg." 
 
 The little voice of Tanit-Zerga broke 
 in: 
 
 "It was the AwelHmiden Tuareg who massacred 
 my people and carried me into slavery. I do not
 
 THE FIRE- FLIES 275 
 
 want to pass through the country of the Awclli- 
 miden." 
 
 "Be still, miserable little fly," said Cegheir-ben- 
 Cheikh. 
 
 Then, addressing mc, he continued: 
 
 "I have said what I have said. The little one is 
 not wrong. The Awellimiden are a savage people. 
 But they are afraid of the French. Many of them 
 trade with the stations north of the Niger. On the 
 other hand, they are at war with the people of 
 Ahaggar, who will not follow you Into their coun- 
 try. What I have said, is said. You must rejoin 
 the TImbuctoo road near where It enters the bor- 
 ders of the Awellimiden. Their country Is wooded 
 and rich in springs. If you reach the springs at 
 Telemsi, you will finish your journey beneath a can- 
 opy of blossoming mimosa. On the other hand, 
 the road from here to Telemsi is shorter than by 
 way of TImlssao. It is quite straight." 
 
 "Yes, it is direct," I said, "but, in following It, 
 you have to cross the Tanezruft." 
 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh waved his hand Impatiently. 
 
 "Ceghelr-ben-Cheikh knows that," he said. "He 
 knows what the Tanezruft Is. He who has traveled 
 over all the Sahara knows that he would shudder at 
 crossing the Tanezruft and the Taslli from the south. 
 He knows that the camels that wander into that 
 country either die or become wild, for no one will 
 risk his life to go look for them. It is the terror
 
 276 ATLANTIDA 
 
 that hangs over that region that may save you. For 
 you have to choose : you must run the risk of dying 
 of thirst on the tracks of the Tanezruft or have 
 your throat cut along some other route." 
 
 "You can stay here," he added. 
 
 "My choice is made, Cegheir-ben-Cheikh," I an- 
 nounced. 
 
 "Good!" he rephed, again opening out the roll of 
 paper. "This trail begins at the second barrier of 
 earth, to which I will lead you. It ends at Iferouane. 
 I have marked the wells, but do not trust to them 
 too much, for many of them are dry. Be careful 
 not to stray from the route. If you lose it, it is 
 death. . . . Now mount the camel with the little 
 one. Two make less noise than four." 
 
 We went a long way in silence. Cegheir-ben- 
 Cheikh walked ahead and his camel followed meekly. 
 We crossed, first, a dark passage, then, a deep gorge, 
 then another passage. . . . The entrance to each 
 was hidden by a thick tangle of rocks and briars. 
 
 Suddenly a burning breath touched our faces. A 
 dull reddish light filtered in through the end of the 
 passage. The desert lay before us. 
 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh had stopped. 
 
 "Get down," he said. 
 
 A spring gurgled out of the rock. The Targa 
 went to it and filled a copper cup with the water. 
 
 "Drink," he said, holding it out to each of us In 
 turn.
 
 THE F I R E - F L I E S 277 
 
 We obeyed. 
 
 "Drink again," he ordered. "You will save just 
 so much of the contents of your water skins. Now 
 try not to be thirsty before sunset." 
 
 He looked over the saddle girths. 
 
 "That's all right," he murmured. "Xow go. In 
 two hours the dawn will be here. You must be out 
 of sight." 
 
 I was filled with emotion at this last moment; I 
 went to the Targa and took his hand. 
 
 "Cegheir-ben-Cheikh," I asked In a low voice, 
 "why are you doing this?" 
 
 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 pity take the place of duty. Cegheir- 
 ben-Cheikh Is turning this permission to the advan- 
 tage of one who saved his life." 
 
 "And you are not afraid," I asked, "that I will 
 disclose the secret of Antinea 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 Captain met his 
 death." 
 
 I was horrified at this logical reply.
 
 278 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "Perhaps I am doing wrong," the Targa went on, 
 "in not killing the little one. . , . But she 
 loves you. She will not talk. Now go. Day is 
 coming." 
 
 I tried to press the hand of this strange rescuer, 
 but he again drew back. 
 
 "Do not thank me. What I am doing, I do to 
 acquire merit in the eyes of God. You may be sure 
 that I shall never do it again neither for you nor 
 for anyone else." 
 
 And, as I made a gesture to reassure him on that 
 point, "Do not protest," he said in a tone the mock- 
 ery of which still sounds in my ears. "Do not pro- 
 test. Wliat I am doing is of value to me, but not to 
 you." 
 
 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 the help 
 of Cegheir-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 with the same 
 eyes as before. Henceforth, one idea will follow 
 you everywhere you go; and in one year, five, per-
 
 THE FIRE-FLIES 279 
 
 haps ten years, you will pass again through the cor- 
 ridor through which you have just come." 
 
 "Be still, Cegheir-ben-Chekih," said the trembling 
 voice of Tanit-Zerga. 
 
 "Be still yourself, miserable little fly," said Ceg- 
 heir-ben-Cheikh. 
 
 He sneered. 
 
 "The little one is afraid because she knows that I 
 tell the truth. She knows the story of Lieutenant 
 Ghiberti." 
 
 "Lieutenant Ghiberti?" I said, the sweat stand- 
 ing out on my forehead. 
 
 "He was an Italian officer whom I met between 
 Rhat and Rhadames eight years ago. He did not 
 believe that love of Antinea could make him forget 
 all else that life contained. He tried to escape, 
 and he succeeded. I do not know how, for I did 
 not help him. He went back to his country. But 
 hear what happened: two years later, to the very 
 day, when I was leaving the look-out, I discovered 
 a miserable tattered creature, half dead from hun- 
 ger and fatigue, searching in vain for the entrance 
 to the northern barrier. It was Lieutenant Ghi- 
 berti, come back. 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."
 
 28o ATLANTIDA 
 
 I obeyed without saying a word. Tanit-Zerga, 
 seated behind me, put her little arms around me. 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh was still holding the bridle. 
 
 "One word more," he said, pointing to a black 
 spot against the violet sky of the southern horizon. 
 "You see the gour there; that is your way. 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 stray from 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 the south. 
 
 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, Cegheir-ben-Cheikh, and fare- 
 well." 
 
 I heard his voice replying in the distance: 
 
 "Au revoir, Lieutenant de Saint Avit."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE TAXEZRUFT 
 
 During the first hour of our flight, the great 
 mehari of Cegheir-ben-Cheikh carried us at a mad 
 pace. We covered at least five leagues. With fixed 
 eyes, I guided the beast toward the gour which the 
 Targa had pointed out, its ridge becoming higher 
 and higher against the paling sky. 
 
 The speed caused a little breeze to whistle in our 
 ears. Great tufts of retem, like fleshless skeletons, 
 were tossed to right and left. 
 
 I heard the voice of Tanlt-Zerga whisper- 
 ing: 
 
 "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 rustling behind us. 
 
 281
 
 282 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "Stop the camel," Tanit-Zerga commanded. "It 
 is not worth while to make him kneel." 
 
 A little gray creature bounded on the camel. The 
 meharl set out again at his best speed. 
 
 "Let him go," said Tanit-Zerga. "Gale has 
 jumped on." 
 
 I felt a tuft of bristly hair under my arm. The 
 mongoose had followed our footsteps and rejoined 
 us. I heard the quick panting of the brave little crea- 
 ture becoming gradually slower and slower. 
 
 "I am happy," murmured Tanit-Zerga. 
 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh had not been mistaken. We 
 reached the goiir as the sun rose. I looked back. 
 The Atakor was nothing more than a monstrous 
 chaos amid the night mists which trailed the dawn. 
 It was no longer possible to pick out from among 
 the nameless peaks, the one on which Antinea 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 starting on the 
 part of the desert which Duveyrier calls the Tasili 
 of the south, and which figures on the maps of the 
 Minister of Public Works under this attractive title : 
 "Rocky plateau, without water, without vegetation, 
 inhospitable for man and beast." 
 
 Nothing, unless parts of the Kalahari, is more 
 frightful than this rocky desert. Oh, Cegheir-ben-
 
 THE TANEZRUFT 283 
 
 Cheikh did not exaggerate in saying that no one 
 would dream of following us into that country'. 
 
 Great patches of oblivion still refused to clear 
 away. Memories chased each other incoherently 
 about my head. A sentence came back to me text- 
 ually: "It seemed to Dick that he had never, since 
 the beginning of original darkness, done anything at 
 all save jolt through the air." I gave a little laugh. 
 "In the last few hours," I thought, "I have been 
 heaping up literary situations. A while ago, a hun- 
 dred feet above the ground, I was Fabrice of La 
 Chartreuse de Parme beside his Italian dungeon. 
 Now, here on my camel, I am Dick of The Light 
 That Failed, crossing the desert to meet his com- 
 panions in arms." I chuckled again; then shuddered. 
 I thought of the preceding night, of the Orestes of 
 Androiuaque who agreed to sacrifice Pyrrhus. A 
 literary situation indeed. . . . 
 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh had reckoned eight days to 
 get to the wooded country of the Awellimiden, fore- 
 runners of the grassy steppes of the Soudan. He 
 knew well the worth of his beast. Tanit-Zerga had 
 suddenly given him a name. El Mellen, the white 
 one, for the magnificent mehari had an almost spot- 
 less coat. Once he went two days without eating, 
 merely picking up here and there a branch of an 
 acacia tree whose hideous white spines, four inches 
 long, filled me with fear for our friend's oesophagus. 
 The wells marked out by Cegheir-ben-Cheikh were
 
 284 ATLANTIDA 
 
 indeed at the indicated spots, but we found nothing 
 in them but a burning yellow mud. It was enough 
 for the camel, enough so that at the end of the fifth 
 day, thanks to prodigious self-control, we had used 
 up only one of our two water skins. Then we be- 
 lieved ourselves safe. 
 
 Near one of these muddy puddles, I succeeded that 
 day in shooting down a little straight-horned desert 
 gazelle. Tanit-Zerga skinned the beast and we re- 
 galed ourselves with a delicious haunch. Meantime, 
 little Gale, who never ceased prying about the cracks 
 in the rocks during our mid-day halts in the heat, 
 discovered an otirane, a sand crocodile, five feet long, 
 and made short work of breaking his neck. She ate 
 so much she could not budge. It cost us a pint of 
 water to help her digestion. We gave it with good 
 grace, for we were happy. Tanit-Zerga did not say 
 so, but her joy at knowing that I was thinking no 
 more of the woman in the gold diadem and the 
 emeralds was apparent. And really, during those 
 days, I hardly thought of her. I thought only of 
 the torrid heat to be avoided, of the water skins 
 which, if you wished to drink fresh water, had to be 
 left for an hour in a cleft in the rocks; of the intense 
 joy which seized you when you raised to your lips a 
 leather goblet brimming with that life-saving water. 
 ... I can say this with authority, with good author- 
 ity, indeed; passion, spiritual or physical, is a thing 
 for those who have eaten and drunk and rested.
 
 THE TANEZRUFT 285 
 
 It was five o'clock In die afternoon. The fright- 
 ful heat was slackening. We had left a kind of 
 rocky crevice where we had had a little nap. Seated 
 on a huge rock, we were watching the reddening 
 west. 
 
 I spread out the roll of paper on which Cegheir- 
 ben-Cheikh had marked the stages of our journey 
 as far as the road from the Soudan. I realized 
 again with joy that his Itinerary was exact and that 
 I had followed It scrupulously. 
 
 "The evening of the day after to-morrow," I said, 
 *'we shall be setting out on the stage which will take 
 us, by the next dawn, to the waters at Telemsi. Once 
 there, we shall not have to worry any more about 
 water." 
 
 Tanit-Zerga's eyes danced In her thin face. 
 
 "And Gao?" she asked. 
 
 "We will be only a week from the Niger. And 
 Cegheir-ben-Cheikh said that at Telemsi, one reached 
 a road overhung with mimosa." 
 
 "I know the mimosa," she said. "They are the 
 little yellow balls that melt In your hand. But I like 
 the caper flowers better. You will come with me to 
 Gao. My father, Sonnl-Askia, was killed, as I told 
 you, by the Awelllmiden. But my people must have 
 rebuilt the villages. They are used to that. You 
 will see how you will be received." 
 
 "I will go, Tanit-Zerga, I promise you. But you 
 also, you must promise me . . ."
 
 286 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "What? Oh, I guess. You must take me for 
 a little fool if you believe me capable of speaking 
 of things which might make trouble for my friend." 
 
 She looked at me as she spoke. Privation and 
 great fatigue had chiselled the brown face where her 
 great eyes shone. . . . Since then, I have had time 
 to assemble the maps and compasses, and to fix for- 
 ever the spot where, for the first time, I understood 
 the beauty of Tanlt-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 an- 
 guished voice that sent 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 pale flanks knotted up by convulsive 
 spasms, El Mellen lay in anguish. 
 
 I need not say that we rushed to him In feverish 
 haste. Of what El Mellen was dying, I did not 
 know, I never have known. All the mehara are 
 that way. They are at once the most enduring and 
 the most delicate of beasts. They will travel for 
 six months across the most frightful deserts, with
 
 THE TANEZRUIT 287 
 
 little food, without water, and seem only the better 
 for it. Then, one day when nothing is the matter, 
 they stretch out and give you the slip with discon- 
 certing ease. 
 
 When Tanit-Zerga and I saw that there was noth- 
 ing more to do, we stood there without a word, 
 watching his slackening spasms. When he breathed 
 liis 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," I replied. "We could make 
 thirty miles by going toward Ifrouane, but the wells 
 are not marked on that route." 
 
 "Then we must walk toward the springs of Te- 
 lemsi," she said. "A hundred 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
 
 288 ATLANTIDA 
 
 eat and drink and make Gale eat and drink, for we 
 cannot carry all the tins, and the water skin Is so 
 heavy that we should not get three miles if we tried 
 to carry it. We will put a little water In one of the 
 tins after emptying it 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 out for another eighteen miles and we will reach 
 the wells marked on the paper by Cegheir-ben- 
 Cheikh." 
 
 "Oh," I murmured sadly, "if my shoulder were 
 only not this way, I could 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 two more and the one filled with water. 
 Come. We must leave in an hour if we 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 which we had begun so happily and 
 confidently. Without the little girl, I believe I 
 should have seated myself upon a rock and waited. 
 Gale only was happy. 
 
 "We must not let her eat too much," said Tanit- 
 Zerga. "She would not be able to follow us. And 
 to-morrow she must work. If she catches another 
 ourane, It will be for us." 
 
 You have walked In the desert. You know how
 
 THE TANEZRUFT 289 
 
 terrible the first hours of the night are. When the 
 moon comes up, huge and yellow, a sharp dust seems 
 to rise In suffocating clouds. You move your jaws 
 mechanically as if to crush the dust that finds its way 
 into your throat 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. But anyway it is bearable. "The 
 night is ending," you say, "and with it the march. 
 All in all, I am less tired than at the beginning." 
 The night ends, but then comes the most terrible 
 hour of all. You are perishing of thirst and shak- 
 ing with cold. All the fatigue comes back at once. 
 The horrible breeze which precedes the dawn is no 
 comfort. Quite the contrary. Every time you 
 stumble, you say, "The next misstep will be the 
 last." 
 
 That is what people feel and say even when they 
 know that In a few hours they will have a good rest 
 with food and water. 
 
 I was suffering terribly. Every step jolted my 
 poor shoulder. At one time, I wanted to stop, to 
 sit down. Then I looked at Tanit-Zerga. She was 
 walking ahead with her eyes almost closed. Her 
 expression was an indefinable one of mingled suffer- 
 ing and determination. I closed my own eyes and 
 went on. 
 
 Such was the first stage. At dawn we stopped in
 
 290 ATLANTIDA 
 
 a hollow in the rocks. Soon the heat forced us to 
 rise to seek a deeper one. Tanit-Zerga did not 
 eat. Instead, she swallowed a little of her half can 
 of water. She lay drowsy all day. Gale ran about 
 our rock giving plaintive little cries. 
 
 I am not going to tell you about the second march. 
 It was more horrible than anything you can imagine. 
 I suffered all that it is humanly possible to suffer in 
 the desert. But already I began to observe with 
 infinite pity that my man's strength was outlasting the 
 nervous force of my little companion. The poor 
 child walked on without saying a word, chewing 
 feebly one corner of her haik which she had drawn 
 over her face. Gale followed. 
 
 The well toward which we were dragging our- 
 selves was indicated on Cegheir-ben-Cheikh's paper 
 by the one word Tissaririn. Tissaririn is the 
 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.
 
 THE TANEZRUFT 291 
 
 We already saw the iiolc, the opening of the well. 
 Finally we reached it. 
 It was empty. 
 
 It is a strange sensation to be dying of thirst. 
 At first the suffering is terrible. Then, gradually, it 
 becomes less. You become partly unconscious. Ri- 
 diculous little things about your life occur to you, 
 fly about you like mosquitoes. I began to remember 
 my history composition for the entrance examination 
 of Saint-Cyr, "The Campaign of Marengo." Ob- 
 stinately I repeated to myself, "I have already said 
 that the battery unmasked by Marmont at the mo- 
 ment of Kellerman's charge included eighteen pieces. 
 . . . No, I remember now, it was only twelve 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. I opened my eyes. Tanit-Zerga 
 was bending over me. It was her hand which burnt 
 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 Iiatk had fallen to
 
 292 ATLANTIDA 
 
 the ground and little Gale, 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. Gao Is over 
 there, not far away. I can feel it. I want to see 
 Gao again." 
 
 I made her sit down beside me in the shadow of 
 a rock. I realized that all strength had left her. 
 The wave of pity that swept over me, brought back 
 my senses. 
 
 "Gao is just over there, isn't it?" she asked. 
 
 Her gleaming eyes became Imploring. 
 
 "Yes, dear little girl. Gao Is there. But for 
 God's sake lie down. The sun Is fearful." 
 
 "Oh, Gao, Gao !" she repeated. "I know very 
 well that I shall see Gao again." 
 
 She sat up. Her fiery little hands gripped mine. 
 
 "Listen. I must tell you so you can understand 
 how I know I shall see Gao 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 where there Is water, at Gao, 
 where my father was a prince, there was . , . Well, 
 one day, one feast day, there came from the interior
 
 THE TANEZRUFT 293 
 
 of the country an old magician, dressed in skins and 
 feathers, with a mask and a pointed head-dress, with 
 castanets, and two serpents in a bag. On the village 
 square, where all our people formed in a circle, he 
 danced the boussadilla. I was in the first row, and 
 because I had a necklace of pink tourmaline, he 
 quickly saw that I was the daughter of a chief. So 
 he spoke to me of the past, of the great Mandingue 
 Empire over which my grandfathers had ruled, of 
 our enemies, the fierce Kountas, 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 for you, but what does that matter? 
 For one day you will see Gao gleaming on the hori- 
 zon, no longer a servile Gao reduced to the rank of a 
 little negro town, but the splendid Gao of other 
 days, the great capital of the country of the blacks, 
 Gao reborn, with Its mosque of seven towers and 
 fourteen cupolas of turquoise, with Its houses with 
 cool courts, its fountains, its watered gardens, all 
 blooming with great red and white flowers. . . . 
 That will be for you the hour of deliverance and of 
 royalty.' " 
 
 Tanlt-Zerga was standing up. All about us, on 
 our heads, the sun blazed on the hamada, burning It 
 white. 
 
 Suddenly the child stretched out her arms. She 
 gave a terrible cry.
 
 294 ATLANTIDA 
 
 "Gao! There is Gao!" 
 
 I looked at her. 
 
 "Gao," she repeated.. "Oh, I know it well! 
 There are the trees and the fountains, the cupolas 
 and the towers, the palm trees, the great red and 
 white flowers. Gao . . ." 
 
 Indeed, along the shimmering horizon rose a fan- 
 tastic city with mighty buildings that towered, tier 
 on tier, until they formed a rainbow. Wide-eyed, 
 we stood and watched the terrible mirage quiver 
 feverishly before us. 
 
 "Gao !" I cried. "Gao!" 
 
 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 catch the child 
 In my arms and hear her murmur as In a whisper: 
 
 "And then that will be the day of deliverance. 
 The day of deliverance and of royalty." 
 
 Several hours later I took the knife with which 
 we had skinned the desert gazelle and, in the sand 
 at the foot of the rock where Tanit-Zerga had given 
 up her spirit, I made a little hollow where she was 
 to rest. 
 
 When everything was ready, I wanted to look once 
 more at that dear little face. Courage failed me for 
 a moment. . . . Then I quickly drew the haik over 
 the brown face and laid the body of the child In the 
 hollow.
 
 THE TANEZRUFT 295 
 
 I had reckoned without Gale. 
 
 The eyes of the mongoose had not left me during 
 the whole time that I was about my sad duty. When 
 she heard the first handfuls of sand fall on the luiik, 
 she gave a sharp cry. I looked at her and saw her 
 ready to spring, her eyes darting fire. 
 
 "Gale!" 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 never finish my task and that, even if I did, 
 Gale would stay there and disinter the body. 
 
 My carbine lay at my feet. A shot drew echoes 
 from the immense empty desert. A moment later. 
 Gale also slept her last sleep, curled up, as I so often 
 had seen her, against the neck of her mistress. 
 
 When the surface showed nothing more than a 
 little mound of trampled sand, I rose staggering and 
 started off aimlessly into the desert, toward the 
 south.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE CIRCLE IS COMPLETE 
 
 At the foot of the valley of the Mia, at the 
 place where the jackal had cried the night Saint- 
 Avit told me he had killed Morhange, another jackal, 
 or perhaps the same one, howled again. 
 
 Immediately I had a feeling that this night would 
 see the irremediable fulfilled. 
 
 We were seated that evening, as before, on the 
 poor veranda improvised outside our dining-room. 
 The floor was of plaster, the balustrade of twisted 
 branches; four posts supported a thatched roof. 
 
 I have already said that from the veranda one 
 could look far out over the desert. As he finished 
 speaking, Saint-Avit rose and stood leaning his el- 
 bows 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, in the country of the Awelli- 
 mlden, I was found dying of hunger and thirst by 
 an expedition under the command of Captain Ay- 
 
 296
 
 THE CIRCLE IS COMPLETE 297 
 
 mard, and taken to Timbuctoo. I was delirious for 
 a month afterward. I have never known what I 
 may have said during those spells of burning fever. 
 You may be sure the officers of the Timbuctoo Club 
 did not feel it incumbent upon them to tell me. When 
 I told them of my adventures, as they are related 
 in the report of the Morhange — Saint-Avit Expedi- 
 tion, I could see well enough from the cold polite- 
 ness with which they received my explanations, that 
 the official version which I gave them differed at 
 certain points from the fragments which had escaped 
 me in my delirium. 
 
 "They did not press the matter. It remains under- 
 stood that Captain Morhange died from a sun- 
 stroke and that I buried him on the border of the 
 Tarhit watercourse, three marches from Timissao. 
 Everybody can detect that there are things missing 
 in my story. Doubtless they guess at some myste- 
 rious drama. But proofs are another matter. Be- 
 cause of the impossibility of collecting them, they 
 prefer to smother what could only become a silly 
 scandal. But now you know all the details as well 
 as L" 
 
 "And — she?" I asked timidly. 
 
 He smiled triumphantly. It was triumph at hav- 
 ing led me to think no longer of Morhange, or of 
 his crime, the triumph of feeling that he had suc- 
 ceeded in imbuing me with his own madness, 
 
 "Yes," he said. "She! For six years I have
 
 298 ATLANTIDA 
 
 learned nothing more about her. But I see her, T 
 talk with her. I am thinking now how I shall re- 
 enter 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 I know; and 
 you see that, like Lieutenant Ghiberti, I have come 
 back.* 
 
 " 'Family, honor, country,' said old Le Mesge, 
 'you will forget all for her.' Old Le Mesge is a 
 stupid man, but he speaks from experience. He 
 knows, he who has seen broken before Antinea 
 the wills of the fifty ghosts in the red marble 
 hall. 
 
 "And now, will you, in your turn, ask me 'What is 
 this woman?' Do I know myself? And besides, 
 what difference does it make? What does her past 
 and the mystery of her origin matter to me; what 
 does it matter whether she is the true descendant of 
 the god of the sea and the sublime Lagides or the 
 bastard of a Polish drunkard and a harlot of the 
 Marbeuf quarter? 
 
 "At the time when I was foolish enough to be 
 jealous of Morhange, these questions might have 
 made some difference to the ridiculous self-esteem 
 that civilized people mix up with passion. But I 
 have held Antinea's body in my arms. I no longer 
 wish to know any other, nor if the fields are in 
 blossom, nor what will become of the human 
 spirit. . . .
 
 THE CIRCLE IS COMPLETE 299 
 
 "I do not wish to know. Or, rather, it is because 
 I have too exact a vision of that future, that I pre- 
 tend to destroy myself in the only destiny that is 
 worth while : a nature unfathomed and virgin, a mys- 
 terious love. 
 
 *'A nature unfathomed and virgin. I must explain 
 myself. One winter day, in a large city all streaked 
 with the soot that falls from the black chimneys of 
 factories and of those horrible houses in the suburbs, 
 I attended 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 dull sorrow, every- 
 one 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 an excuse. I see the gray 
 walls and the cypresses, those trees of sun and shade, 
 so beautiful in the country of southern France against 
 the low, purple hills. I see the horrible undertaker's 
 men in greasy jackets and 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 frightful yellow pebbly clay. It was 
 there that they left the dead man whose name I no 
 longer remember. 
 
 "While they were lowering the casket, I looked at 
 my hands, those hands which in that strangely 
 lighted country had pressed the hands of Antinea. 
 A great pity for my body seized me, a great fear of
 
 300 . ATLANTIDA 
 
 what threatened it in these cities of mud. *So,' I said 
 to myself, *it may be 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 I will 
 spare you that ignominy; you shall not rot under a 
 registered number in the filth of a suburban ceme- 
 tery. Your brothers in love, the fifty knights 
 of orichalch, await you, mute and grave, in 
 the red marble hall. I shall take you back to 
 them.' 
 
 *'A mysterious love. Shame to him who retails 
 the secrets of his loves. The Sahara lays its im- 
 passable barrier about Antinea; that is why the most 
 unreasonable requirements of this woman are, in 
 reality, more modest and chaste than your marriage 
 will be, with its vulgar public show, the bans, the 
 invitations, the announcements telling an evil-minded 
 and joking people that after such and such an hour, 
 on such and such a day, you will have the right to 
 violate your little tupenny virgin. 
 
 "I think that is all I have to tell you. No, there 
 is still one thing more. I told you a while ago about 
 the red marble hall. South of Cherchell, to the 
 west of the Mazafran river, on a hill which in the 
 early morning, emerges from the mists of the 
 Mitidja, there is a mysterious stone pyramid. The 
 natives call it, 'The Tomb of the Christian.' That 
 is where the body of Antinea's ancestress, that Cleo- 
 patra Selene, daughter of Mark Antony and Cleo-
 
 THE CIRCLE IS COMPLETE 301 
 
 patra, was laid to rest. Though It is placed in the 
 path of invasions, this tomb has kept its treasure. 
 No one has ever been able to discover the painted 
 room where the beautiful body reposes in a glass 
 casket. All that the ancestress has been able to do, 
 the descendant will be able to surpass in grim mag- 
 nificence. In the center of the red marble hall, on 
 the rock whence comes the plaint of the gloomy foun- 
 tain, a platform is reserved. It is there, on an ori- 
 chalch throne, with the Egyptian head-dress and the 
 golden serpent on her brow and the trident of Nep- 
 time in her hand, that the marvelous woman I have 
 told you about will be ensconced on that day when 
 the hundred and twenty niches, hollowed out in a 
 circle around her throne, shall each have received 
 its willing prey. 
 
 "When I left Ahaggar, you remember that it was 
 niche number ^^ that was to be mine. Since then, 
 I have never stopped calculating and I conclude that 
 it is in number 80 or 85 that I shall repose. But any 
 calculations based upon so fragile a foundation as a 
 woman's whim may be erroneous. That is why I am 
 getting more and more nervous. 'I must hurry,' 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 hand trembled with happiness when he 
 shook mine.
 
 302 ATLANTTDA 
 
 "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, alternately laughing and crying like chil- 
 dren, we kept repeating: 
 
 "We must hurry. We must hurry." 
 
 Suddenly there sprang up a slight breeze that 
 made the tufts of thatch in the roof rustle. The sky, 
 pale lilac, grew paler still, and, suddenly, a great 
 yellow rent tore it in the east. Dawn broke over , 
 the empty 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 the southern route by which one reaches 
 Temassinin, Eguere and Ahaggar. 
 
 A rap on the dining-room door behind us made us 
 start. 
 
 "Come in," said Andre de Saint-Avit In a voice 
 which had become suddenly 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 discov- 
 ered near the post, last night, by the patrol. He 
 was not trying to hide. As soon as he had been
 
 THE CIRCLE IS COMPLETE 303 
 
 brought here, he asked to be led before the com- 
 manding officer. It was midnight and I didn't want 
 to disturb you." 
 
 "Who is this native?" 
 
 "A Targa, Captain." 
 
 "ATarga? Go get him." 
 
 Chatelain stepped aside. Escorted by one of our 
 native soldiers, the man stood behind him. 
 
 They came out on the terrace. 
 
 The new arrival, six feet tall, was indeed a Targa. 
 The light of dawn fell upon his blue-black cotton 
 robes. One could see his great dark eyes flashing. 
 
 When he was opposite my companion, I saw a 
 tremor, immediately suppressed, run through botli 
 men. 
 
 They looked at each other for an instant in si- 
 lence. 
 
 Then, bowing, and in a very calm voice, the Targa 
 spoke : 
 
 "Peace be with you, Lieutenant de Saint-Avlt." 
 
 In the same calm voice, Andre answered him : 
 
 "Peace be with you, Cegheir-ben-Cheikh." 
 
 THE END
 
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