Atlantida

I awakened in my room. The sun, already at its zenith, filled the

place with unbearable light and heat.

The first thing I saw, on opening my eyes, was the shade, ripped down,

lying in the middle of the floor. Then, confusedly, the night's events

began to come back to me.

My head felt stupid and heavy. My mind wandered. My memory seemed

blocked. "I went out with the leopard, that is certain. That red mark

on my forefinger shows how he strained at the leash. My knees are

still dusty. I remember creeping along the wall in the room where the

white Tuareg were playing at dice. That was the minute after King

Hiram had leapt past them. After that ... oh, Morhange and Antinea....

And then?"

I recalled nothing more. I recalled nothing more. But something must

have happened, something which I could not remember.

I was uneasy. I wanted to go back, yet it seemed as if I were afraid

to go. I have never felt anything more painful than those conflicting

emotions.

"It is a long way from here to Antinea's apartments. I must have been

very sound asleep not to have noticed when they brought me back--for

they have brought me back."

I stopped trying to think it out. My head ached too much.

"I must have air," I murmured. "I am roasting here; it will drive me

mad."

I had to see someone, no matter whom. Mechanically, I walked toward

the library.

I found M. Le Mesge in a transport of delirious joy. The Professor was

engaged in opening an enormous bale, carefully sewed in a brown

blanket.

"You come at a good time, sir," he cried, on seeing me enter. "The

magazines have just arrived."

He dashed about in feverish haste. Presently a stream of pamphlets and

magazines, blue, green, yellow and salmon, was bursting from an

opening in the bale.

"Splendid, splendid!" he cried, dancing with joy. "Not too late,

either; here are the numbers for October fifteenth. We must give a

vote of thanks to good Ameur."

His good spirits were contagious.

"There is a good Turkish merchant who subscribes to all the

interesting magazines of the two continents. He sends them on by

Rhadamès to a destination which he little suspects. Ah, here are the

French ones."

M. Le Mesge ran feverishly over, the tables of contents.

"Internal politics: articles by Francis Charmes, Anatole

Leroy-Beaulieu, d'Haussonville on the Czar's trip to Paris. Look, a

study by Avenel of wages in the Middle Ages. And verse, verses of the

young poets, Fernand Gregh, Edmond Haraucourt. Ah, the resumé of a

book by Henry de Castries on Islam. That may be interesting.... Take

what you please."