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Updated: June 16, 2025
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 intense Adonis. A child queen of Sheba, but with a look, a smile, such as no Oriental ever had.
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.
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 was terrible. From the expression of her mouth I felt that this would be her last word to him.
Count Casimir had reached that stage where drunkenness takes on a kind of gravity, of regretfulness. He thought a little, then began his story. I regret 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.
"'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 else. We had become used to him. In Antinea's room, on a little Kairouan table, painted in blue and gold, there is a gong with a long silver hammer with an ebony handle, very heavy. Aguida told me about it.
"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.... "I do not wish to know.
The natives call it, 'The Tomb of the Christian. That is where the body of Antinea's ancestress, that Cleopatra Selene, daughter of Mark Antony and Cleopatra, 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.
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