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See, in this connection, Duveyrier: les Tuareg du Nord, page 292. "Ferradji," angrily demanded the little officer of the Department of Education, "why were these gentlemen brought into the library?" The Targa bowed respectfully. "Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh came back sooner than we expected," he replied, "and last night the embalmers had not yet finished.
They brought 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.
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 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. I am Etienne Le Mesge, Fellow of the University." "Captain Morhange," said my companion. I stepped forward in my turn. "Lieutenant de Saint-Avit.
"Indeed I am not unacquainted with the works of Lagneau, Ploix, Arbois de Jubainville," said Morhange frigidly. "My God!" The little man was going through extraordinary contortions. "Sir Captain, how happy I am, how many excuses...." Just then, the portiére was raised. Ferradji appeared again. "Sir, they want me to tell you that unless you come, they will begin without you."
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