Atlantida

The shade of the window was worked by means of a small cord. I pulled

it down. Then I tied it into a firm leash which I fastened to the

metal collar of the leopard.

I half opened the door.

"There, now you can go. But quietly, quietly."

I had all the trouble in the world to curb the ardor of King Hiram who

dragged me along the shadowy labyrinth of corridors. It was shortly

before nine o'clock, and the rose-colored night lights were almost

burned out in the niches. Now and then, we passed one which was

casting its last flickers. What a labyrinth! I realized that from here

on I would not recognize the way to her room. I could only follow the

leopard.

At first furious, he gradually became used to towing me. He strained

ahead, belly to the ground, with snuffs of joy.

Nothing is more like one black corridor than another black corridor.

Doubt seized me. Suppose I should suddenly find myself in the baccarat

room! But that was unjust to King Hiram. Barred too long from the dear

presence, the good beast was taking me exactly where I wanted him to

take me.

Suddenly, at a turn, the darkness ahead lifted. A rose window, faintly

glimmering red and green, appeared before us.

The leopard stopped with a low growl before the door in which the rose

window was cut.

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.

A simple latch, which I turned. I shortened the leash to have better

control of King Hiram who was getting nervous.

The great room where I had seen Antinea for the first time was

completely dark. But the garden on which it gave shone under a

clouded moon, in a sky weighted down with the storm which did not

break. Not a breath of air. The lake gleamed like a sheet of pewter.

I seated myself on a cushion, holding the leopard firmly between my

knees. He was purring with impatience. I was thinking. Not about my

goal. For a long time that had been fixed. But about the means.

Then, I seemed to hear a distant murmur, a faint sound of voices.

King Hiram growled louder, struggled. I gave him a little more leash.

He began to rub along the dark walls on the sides whence the voices

seemed to come. I followed him, stumbling as quietly as I could among

the scattered cushions.