by Anthology
"Captain Jean-Marie-François 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, Rhône. 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 kindness."
"You are welcome."
I left M. Le Mesge.
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 decision.
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 remembered 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 instigator 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 Morhange, who was once a baby, who, like all the others, 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 tears, of trials overcome and pitfalls escaped, which constitutes a human existence. What an extraordinary adventure!"
That was all. No fear, no remorse, none of that Shakespearean horror after the murder, which, today, sceptic though I am and blasé and utterly, utterly 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 coming 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 recognized the sound of a rebaza, the violin with a single string, played by the Tuareg women. It was Aguida playing, squatting as usual at the feet of her mistress. The three other women were also squatted about her. Tanit-Zerga was not there.
Oh! Since that was the last time I saw her, let, 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 surprise at seeing before me, adorned like an idol, not a woman, but a queen!
The heavy splendor of the Pharaohs weighted down her slender body. On her head was the great gold pschent of Egyptian gods and kings; emeralds, the national stone of the Tuareg, were set in it, tracing and retracing her name in Tifinar characters. A red satin schenti, embroidered in golden lotus, enveloped her like the casket of a jewel. At her feet, lay an ebony scepter, headed with a trident. Her 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.
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 hammer? 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 affectionate 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 reasonable. Kill me at the moment when you can reap the fruits of the murder of…."
"Did—did he suffer?" I asked suddenly, trembling.
"Very little. I told you that you used the hammer as if you had done nothing else all your life."
"Like little Kaine," I murmured.
She smiled in surprise.
"Oh, you know that story…. Yes, like little 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," Antinea said. "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 believed it?"
"With the help of my explanation, he recognized your shriek. If he had not realized that you were 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.
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 afternoon 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 depression. 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.
"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 corner of it over her head.
"I want to go away, too," she said in a smothered voice.
"For a long time, I have wanted to go away. I want to see Gâo, the village 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 opening.
Tanit-Zerga went to the window. I saw her standing erect on the sill. A knife shone in her hands. She cut the rope at the top of the opening. It slipped down to the stone with a dry sound.
She came back to me.
"How can we escape?" I asked.
"That way," she repeated, and she pointed again at the window.
I leaned out. My feverish gaze fell upon the shadowy depths, searching for those invisible rocks, the rocks upon which little Kaine had dashed himself.
"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 which to rest if the rope cuts my hands too much. But don't be afraid: I am very agile. At Gâo, 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 Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, and perhaps Antinea."
"Then?"
"There are the camels of Ceghéir-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 Gâo once again, Gâo with its blue gum-trees and its green water."
I felt myself blushing.
"I will go, Tanit-Zerga. I would rather die of thirst in the midst of the desert than stay here. Let us start."
"Tut!" she said. "Not yet."
She showed me that the dizzy descent was in brilliant moonlight.
"Not yet. We must wait. They would see us. In an hour, the moon 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 scraping."
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 was overcome with vexation when the rope stopped and I found myself, feet dangling, against the perfectly smooth wall.
"What is the little fool waiting for?" I said to myself. "I have 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, Sidi Lieutenant. Let me hold the rope."
Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh rose up at my side.
I looked at his tall black silhouette. I shuddered, but I did not 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 buttressed against the wall, holding the rope with both hands, with both feet, with all his body, much better than I had been able to do.
A rustling above our heads. A little shadowy form.
"There," said Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, seizing the little shadow in 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 superb mehari peacefully chewing his cud.
"The little one is not stupid," said Ceghéir-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 only 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 Ceghéir-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, sidi. Try not to use it except to shoot antelopes. And there is this."
He spread out a roll of paper. I saw his inscrutible 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.
"Toward Idelès, to retake the route where you met the Captain and me," I said.
Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh shook his head.
"I thought as much," he murmured.
Then he added coldly:
"Before sunset to-morrow, you and the little one would have been caught and massacred."
"Toward the north is Ahaggar," he continued, "and all Ahaggar is under the control of Antinea. You must go south."
"Then we shall go south."
"By what route?"
"Why, by Silet and Timissao."
The Targa again shook his head.
"They will look for you on that road also," he said. "It is a good road, the road with the wells. They know that you are familiar with it. The Tuareg would not fail to wait at the wells."
"Well, then?"
"Well," said Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, "you must not rejoin the road from Timissao to Timbuctoo until you are four hundred miles from here toward Iferouane, or better still, at the spring of Telemsi. That is the boundary between the Tuareg of Ahaggar and the Awellimiden Tuareg."
