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"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.
Why not, since I was at it, be jealous of those here present; 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.
"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. "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.
"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? Oh, you know that mysterious things are going to happen tonight. How have you been able to keep from doing anything as long as this?" Immediately I made a resolve.
"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.
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 muttered. "How so?" "You see, I have changed my itinerary a little.
I think there is a bit of Renan in her but she is cleverer than that master of sensualism." "Gentlemen," said Le Mesge, suddenly entering the room, "why are you so late? They are 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.
He looked at her with a sort of grave pity. "I will make you die in the most atrocious agonies," she said finally. "I am your prisoner," Morhange replied. "You shall suffer things that you cannot even imagine." "I am your prisoner," repeated Morhange in the same sad calm. Antinea paced the room like a beast in a cage.
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 Morhange, stepping forward. "He is not a man of letters, as you are.
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.
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