The room was huge and at once well lighted and very dark. While the
right half, where Antinea was, gleamed under shaded lamps, the left
was dim.
Those who have penetrated into a Mussulman home know what a guignol
is, a kind of square niche in the wall, four feet from the floor, its
opening covered by a curtain. One mounts to it by wooden steps. I
noticed such a guignol at my left. I crept into it. My pulses beat
in the shadow. But I was calm, quite calm.
There I could see and hear everything.
I was in Antinea's chamber. There was nothing singular about the room,
except the great luxury of the hangings. The ceiling was in shadow,
but multicolored lanterns cast a vague and gentle light over gleaming
stuffs and furs.
Antinea was stretched out on a lion's skin, smoking. A little silver
tray and pitcher lay beside her. King Hiram was flattened out at her
feet, licking them madly.
The Targa slave stood rigid before her, one hand on his heart, the
other on his forehead, saluting.
Antinea spoke in a hard voice, without looking at the man.
"Why did you let the leopard pass? I told you that I wanted to be
alone."
"He knocked us over, mistress," said the Targa humbly.
"The doors were not closed, then?"
The slave did not answer.
"Shall I take him away?" he asked.
And his eyes, fastened upon King Hiram who stared at him maliciously,
expressed well enough his desire for a negative reply.
"Let him stay since he is here," said Antinea.
She tapped nervously on the little silver tray.
"What is the captain doing?" she asked.
"He dined a while ago and seemed to enjoy his food," the Targa
answered.
"Has he said nothing?"
"Yes, he asked to see his companion, the other officer."
Antinea tapped the little tray still more rapidly.
"Did he say nothing else?"
"No, mistress," said the man.
A pallor overspread the Atlantide's little forehead.
"Go get him," she said brusquely.
Bowing, the Targa left the room.
I listened to this dialogue with great anxiety. Was this Morhange? Had
he been faithful to me, after all? Had I suspected him unjustly? He
had wanted to see me and been unable to!
My eyes never left Antinea's.
She was no longer the haughty, mocking princess of our first
interview. She no longer wore the golden circlet on her forehead. Not
a bracelet, not a ring. She was dressed only in a full flowing tunic.
Her black hair, unbound, lay in masses of ebony over her slight
shoulders and her bare arms.