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"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.
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 flown away."
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