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Updated: June 13, 2025
Without saying a word, he lifted me like a feather out of the perfumed water, now of a color on which I shall not dwell. In no time at all, I was stretched out on an inclined marble table. The Negro began to massage me vigorously. "More gently there, fellow!" My masseur did not reply, but laughed and rubbed still harder. "Where do you come from? Kanem? Torkou? You laugh too much for a Targa."
I recognized it as the door through which the white Targa had led me the day after my arrival, when I had been set upon by King Hiram, when I had found myself in the presence of Antinea. "We are much better friends to-day," I said, flattering him so that he would not give a dangerously loud growl. I tried to open the door. The light, coming through the window, fell upon the floor, green and red.
They all thought only of her.... But you, you wanted to kill her." I gave a low moan. "You are suffering," she said. "They broke your arm." "Dislocated it anyhow." "Let me see." With infinite gentleness, she passed her smooth little hands over my shoulder. "You tell me that there is a white Targa on guard before my door, Tanit-Zerga," I said. "Then how did you get in?"
The door had opened. A white Targa entered. The diners stopped talking. The veiled man walked slowly toward Morhange and touched his right arm. "Very well," said Morhange. He got up and followed the messenger. The pitcher of Ahaggar, 1879, stood between me and Count Bielowsky. I filled my goblet a goblet which held a pint, and gulped it down. The Hetman looked at me sympathetically.
Eg-Anteouen, in the same squatting position, kept on patching his old slipper. I took a step toward him. "You heard what I said to the Captain?" "Yes," the Targa answered calmly. "I am going with him. We leave you at Tit, to which place you must bring us. Where is the place you proposed to show the Captain?" "I did not propose to show it to him; it was his own idea," said the Targa coldly.
It was midnight and I didn't want to disturb you." "Who is this native?" "A Targa, Captain." "A Targa? Go get him." Chatelain stepped aside. Escorted by one of our native soldiers, the man stood behind him. They came out on the terrace. The new arrival, six feet tall, was indeed a Targa. The light of dawn fell upon his blue-black cotton robes. One could see his great dark eyes flashing.
"Here it is," he said, getting down from his camel. It was a beautiful and sinister place. To our left a fantastic wall of granite outlined its gray ribs against the sky. This wall was pierced, from top to bottom, by a winding corridor about a thousand feet high and scarcely wide enough in places to allow three camels to walk abreast. "Here it is," repeated the Targa.
I felt a great need of withdrawing into myself. "My room is above yours," she said. "There is a copper gong on the table here. You have only to strike if you want anything. A white Targa will answer." For a second, these instructions amused me. I was in a hotel in the midst of the Sahara. I had only to ring for service. I looked about my room. My room! For how long? It was fairly large.
"By what route?" "Why, by Silet and Timissao." The Targa again shook his head. "They will look for you on that road also," he said. "It is a good road, the road with the wells. They know that you are familiar with it. The Tuareg would not fail to wait at the wells." "Well, then?"
"There," said Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh, seizing the little shadow in his powerful arms and placing her on the ground, while the rope, let slack, slapped back against the rock. Tanit-Zerga recognized the Targa and groaned. He put his hand roughly over her mouth. "Shut up, camel thief, wretched little fly." He seized her arm. Then he turned to me. "Come," he said in an imperious tone. I obeyed.
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