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Updated: October 4, 2025
"Lieutenant de Saint-Avit," it said briefly, "will delay his departure until the arrival of Captain Morhange, who will accompany him on his expedition of exploration." I was more than disappointed. I alone had had the idea of this expedition. I had had all the difficulty that you can imagine to make the authorities agree to it.
The sun was rising, pale yellow, behind the sharp blue mountains. It was at night that Saint-Avit liked to tell me a little of his enthralling history. He gave it to me in short installments, exact and chronological, never anticipating the episodes of a drama whose tragic outcome I knew already.
One after another they shook their heads. "'I see that we agree, he said. 'But our task is unfortunately not yet over. The City of Naples will be in port tomorrow morning. The launch which meets the passengers leaves at eight o'clock. It will be necessary, gentlemen, for one of you to go aboard. Captain de Saint-Avit might be expecting to come to us.
He had stopped his scrawling and was listening with a sly interest. "Sergeant, Captain de Saint-Avit is my ranking classmate," I answered dryly. Chatelain saluted, and left the room. I followed. "There, there," I said, clapping him on the back, "no hard feelings. Remember that in an hour we are starting for the oasis. Have the cartridges ready.
The Colonel was young and dined at mess. One evening he came in late, looking perturbed, and, as soon as he was seated, called for silence: "'Gentlemen, he said, 'I have a communication to make to you, and I shall ask for your advice. Here is the question. Tomorrow morning the City of Naples lands at Sfax. Aboard her is Captain de Saint-Avit, recently assigned to Feriana, en route to his post.
Count Bielowsky had drunk five times as much as the Professor or the pastor. But he carried his wine ten times better. "Let us leave these drunken fellows," he said with disgust. "Come on, old man. Our partners are waiting in the gaming room." "Ladies and gentlemen," said the Hetman as we entered. "Permit me to present a new player to you, my friend, Lieutenant de Saint-Avit."
All my comrades, I imagine, know to what terrible rumors you refer. If I may venture to say so, in Paris at the Army Geographical Service, where I was before coming here, most of the officers of the highest standing had an opinion on this unfortunate matter which they avoided stating, but which cast no glory upon Captain de Saint-Avit.
"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.
When he was opposite my companion, I saw a tremor, immediately suppressed, run through both men. They looked at each other for an instant in silence. Then, bowing, and in a very calm voice, the Targa spoke: "Peace be with you, Lieutenant de Saint-Avit." In the same calm voice, André answered him: "Peace be with you, Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh."
Everything is forgotten quickly in France. That was at least six years ago. I had not heard Saint-Avit mentioned since. I had even supposed that he had left the army. And now, I was to have him as my chief. "After all, what's the difference," I mused, "he or another! At school he was charming, and we have had only the most pleasant relationships.
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