Atlantida

"'Great fools that we are!' she murmured amidst her sobs, 'what have

we done!' "'Clémentine, tell me!' "'What have we done, what have we done!' she repeated, and I felt

against me, her floods of black hair, her warm cheek which was

fragrant with eau de Nanon.

"'What is it? What can it be?' "'It is....' and she murmured something in my ear.

"'No!' I said, stupefied. 'Are you quite sure?' "'Am I quite sure!' "I was thunderstruck.

"'You don't seem much pleased,' she said sharply.

"'I did not say that.... Though, really, I am very much pleased, I

assure you.' "'Prove it to me: let us spend the day together tomorrow.' "'To-morrow!' I stammered. 'Impossible!' "'Why?' she demanded suspiciously.

"'Because to-morrow, I have to pilot the Tuareg mission about Paris.

The Emperor's orders.' "'What bluff is this?' asked Clémentine.

"'I admit that nothing so much resembles a lie as the truth.' "I retold Mocquard's story to Clémentine, as well as I could. She

listened to me with an expression that said: 'you can't fool me that

way.' "Finally, furious, I burst out: "'You can see for yourself. I am dining with them, tomorrow; and I

invite you.' "'I shall be very pleased to come,' said Clémentine with great

dignity.

"I admit that I lacked self-control at that minute. But think what a

day it had been! Forty thousand francs of bills as soon as I woke up.

The ordeal of escorting the savages around Paris all the next day.

And, quite unexpectedly, the announcement of an approaching irregular

paternity....

"'After all,' I thought, as I returned to my house, 'these are the

Emperor's orders. He has commanded me to give the Tuareg an idea of

Parisian civilization. Clémentine comports herself very well in

society and just now it would not do to aggravate her. I will engage a

room for to-morrow at the Café de Paris, and tell Gramont-Caderousse

and Viel-Castel to bring their silly mistresses. It will be very

French to enjoy the attitude of these children of the desert in the

midst of this little party.' "The train from Marseilles arrived at 10:20. On the platform I found

M. Duveyrier, a young man of twenty-three with blue eyes and a little

blond beard. The Tuareg fell into his arms as they descended from the

train. He had lived with them for two years, in their tents, the devil

knows where. He presented me to their chief, Sheik Otham, and to four

others, splendid fellows in their blue cotton draperies and their

amulets of red leather. Fortunately, they all spoke a kind of

sabir[13] which helped things along.