XI
ANTINEA
My guide and I passed along another long corridor. My excitementincreased. I was impatient for one thing only, to come face to facewith that woman, to tell her.... So far as anything else wasconcerned, I already was done for.
I was mistaken in hoping that the adventure would take an heroic turnat once. In real life, these contrasts never are definitely markedout. I should have remembered from many past incidents that theburlesque was regularly mixed with the tragic in my life.
We reached a little transparent door. My guide stood aside to let mepass.
I found myself in the most luxurious of dressing-rooms. A ground glassceiling diffused a gay rosy light over the marble floor. The firstthing I noticed was a clock, fastened to the wall. In place of thefigures for the hours, were the signs of the Zodiac. The small handhad not yet reached the sign of Capricorn.
Only three o'clock!
The day seemed to have lasted a century already.... And only a littlemore than half of it was gone.
Another idea came to me, and a convulsive laugh bent me double.
"Antinea wants me to be at my best when I meet her."
A mirror of orichalch formed one whole side of the room. Glancing intoit, I realized that in all decency there was nothing exaggerated inthe demand.
My untrimmed beard, the frightful layer of dirt which lay about myeyes and furrowed my cheeks, my clothing, spotted by all the clay ofthe Sahara and torn by all the thorns of Ahaggar--all this made meappear a pitiable enough suitor.
I lost no time in undressing and plunging into the porphry bath in thecenter of the room. A delicious drowsiness came over me in thatperfumed water. A thousand little jars, spread on a costly carved wooddressing-table, danced before my eyes. They were of all sizes andcolors, carved in a very transparent kind of jade. The warm humidityof the atmosphere hastened my relaxation.
I still had strength to think, "The devil take Atlantis and the vaultand Le Mesge."
Then I fell asleep in the bath.
When I opened my eyes again, the little hand of the clock had almostreached the sign of Taurus. Before me, his black hands braced on theedge of the bath, stood a huge Negro, bare-faced and bare-armed, hisforehead bound with an immense orange turban.
He looked at me and showed his white teeth in a silent laugh.
"Who is this fellow?"
The Negro laughed harder. Without saying a word, he lifted me like afeather out of the perfumed water, now of a color on which I shall notdwell.
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 aTarga."
Unbroken silence. The Negro was as speechless as he was hilarious.
"After all, I am making a fool of myself," I said, giving up the case."Such as he is, he is more agreeable than Le Mesge with hisnightmarish erudition. But, on my word, what a recruit he would be forHamman on the rue des Mathurins!"
"Cigarette, sidi?"
Without awaiting my reply, he placed a cigarette between my lips andlighted it, and resumed his task of polishing every inch of me.
"He doesn't talk much, but he is obliging," I thought.
And I sent a puff of smoke into his face.
This pleasantry seemed to delight him immensely. He showed hispleasure by giving me great slaps.
When he had dressed me down sufficiently, he took a little jar fromthe dressing-table and began to rub me with a rose-colored ointment.Weariness seemed to fly away from my rejuvenated muscles.
A stroke on a copper gong. My masseur disappeared. A stunted oldNegress entered, dressed in the most tawdry tinsel. She was talkativeas a magpie, but at first I did not understand a word in theinterminable string she unwound, while she took first my hands, thenmy feet, and polished the nails with determined grimaces.
Another stroke on the gong. The old woman gave place to another Negro,grave, this time, and dressed all in white with a knitted skull cap onhis oblong head. It was the barber, and a remarkably dexterous one. Hequickly trimmed my hair, and, on my word, it was well done. Then,without asking me what style I preferred, he shaved me clean.
I looked with pleasure at my face, once more visible.
"Antinea must like the American type," I thought. "What an affront tothe memory of her worthy grandfather, Neptune!"
The gay Negro entered and placed a package on the divan. The barberdisappeared. I was somewhat astonished to observe that the package,which my new valet opened carefully, contained a suit of whiteflannels exactly like those French officers wear in Algeria in summer.
The wide trousers seemed made to my measure. The tunic fitted withouta wrinkle, and my astonishment was unbounded at observing that it evenhad two gilt _galons_, the insignia of my rank, braided on the cuffs.For shoes, there were slippers of red Morocco leather, with goldornaments. The underwear, all of silk, seemed to have come straightfrom the rue de la Paix.
"Dinner was excellent," I murmured, looking at myself in the mirrorwith satisfaction. "The apartment is perfectly arranged. Yes, but...."
I could not repress a shudder when I suddenly recalled that room ofred marble.
The clock struck half past four.
Someone rapped gently on the door. The tall white Targa, who hadbrought me, appeared in the doorway.
He stepped forward, touched me on the arm and signed for me to follow.
Again I followed him.
We passed through interminable corridors. I was disturbed, but thewarm water had given me a certain feeling of detachment. And aboveall, more than I wished to admit, I had a growing sense of livelycuriosity. If, at that moment, someone had offered to lead me back tothe route across the white plain near Shikh-Salah, would I haveaccepted? Hardly.
I tried to feel ashamed of my curiosity. I thought of Maillefeu.
"He, too, followed this corridor. And now he is down there, in the redmarble hall."
I had no time to linger over this reminiscence. I was suddenly bowledover, thrown to the ground, as if by a sort of meteor. The corridorwas dark; I could see nothing. I heard only a mocking growl.
The white Targa had flattened himself back against the wall.
"Good," I mumbled, picking myself up, "the deviltries are beginning."
We continued on our way. A glow different from that of the rose nightlights soon began to light up the corridor.
We reached a high bronze door, in which a strange lacy design hadbeen cut in filigree. A clear gong sounded, and the double doorsopened part way. The Targa remained in the corridor, closing the doorsafter me.
I took a few steps forward mechanically, then paused, rooted to thespot, and rubbed my eyes.
I was dazzled by the sight of the sky.
Several hours of shaded light had unaccustomed me to daylight. Itpoured in through one whole side of the huge room.
The room was in the lower part of this mountain, which was morehoneycombed with corridors and passages than an Egyptian pyramid. Itwas on a level with the garden which I had seen in the morning fromthe balcony, and seemed to be a continuation of it; the carpetextended out under the great palm trees and the birds flew about theforest of pillars in the room.
By contrast, the half of the room untouched by direct light from theoasis seemed dark. The sun, setting behind the mountain, painted thegarden paths with rose and flamed with red upon the traditionalflamingo which stood with one foot raised at the edge of the sapphirelake.
Suddenly I was bowled over a second time.
I felt a warm, silky touch, a burning breath on my neck. Again themocking growl which had so disturbed me in the corridor.
With a wrench, I pulled myself free and sent a chance blow at myassailant. The cry, this time of pain and rage, broke out again.
It was echoed by a long peal of la
ughter. Furious, I turned to lookfor the insolent onlooker, thinking to speak my mind. And then myglance stood still.
Antinea was before me.
In the dimmest part of the room, under a kind of arch lit by the mauverays from a dozen incense-lamps, four women lay on a heap ofmany-colored cushions and rare white Persian rugs.
I recognized the first three as Tuareg women, of a splendid regularbeauty, dressed in magnificent robes of white silk embroidered ingold. The fourth, very dark skinned, almost negroid, seemed younger.A tunic of red silk enhanced the dusk of her face, her arms and herbare feet. The four were grouped about a sort of throne of white rugs,covered with a gigantic lion's skin, on which, half raised on oneelbow, lay Antinea.
Antinea! Whenever I saw her after that, I wondered if I had reallylooked at her before, so much more beautiful did I find her. Morebeautiful? Inadequate word. Inadequate language! But is it really thefault of the language or of those who abuse the word?
One could not stand before her without recalling the woman for whomEphractoeus overcame Atlas, of her for whom Sapor usurped the scepterof Ozymandias, for whom Mamylos subjugated Susa and Tentyris, for whomAntony fled....
_O tremblant coeur humain, si jamais tu vibras C'est dans l'etreinte altiere et chaude de ses bras_.
An Egyptian _klaft_ fell over her abundant blue-black curls. Its twopoints of heavy, gold-embroidered cloth extended to her slim hips. Thegolden serpent, emerald-eyed, was clasped about her little round,determined forehead, darting its double tongue of rubies over herhead.
She wore a tunic of black chiffon shot with gold, very light, veryfull, slightly gathered in by a white muslin scarf embroidered withiris in black pearls.
That was Antinea's costume. But what was she beneath all this? A slimyoung girl, with long green eyes and the slender profile of a hawk. Amore intense Adonis. A child queen of Sheba, but with a look, a smile,such as no Oriental ever had. A miracle of irony and freedom.
I did not see her body. Indeed I should not have thought of looking atit, had I had the strength. And that, perhaps, was the mostextraordinary thing about that first impression. In that unforgettablemoment nothing would have seemed to me more horribly sacrilegious thanto think of the fifty victims in the red marble hall, of the fiftyyoung men who had held that slender body in their arms.
She was still laughing at me.
"King Hiram," she called.
I turned and saw my enemy.
On the capital of one of the columns, twenty feet above the floor, asplendid leopard was crouched. He still looked surly from the blow Ihad dealt him.
"King Hiram," Antinea repeated. "Come here."
The beast relaxed like a spring released. He fawned at his mistress'sfeet. I saw his red tongue licking her bare little ankles.
"Ask the gentleman's pardon," she said.
The leopard looked at me spitefully. The yellow skin of his muzzlepuckered about his black moustache.
"Fftt," he grumbled like a great cat.
"Go," Antinea ordered imperiously.
The beast crawled reluctantly toward me. He laid his head humblybetween his paws and waited.
I stroked his beautiful spotted forehead.
"You must not be vexed," said Antinea. "He is always that way withstrangers."
"Then he must often be in bad humor," I said simply.
Those were my first words. They brought a smile to Antinea's lips.
She gave me a long, quiet look.
"Aguida," she said to one of the Targa women, "you will givetwenty-five pounds in gold to Cegheir-ben-Cheikh."
"You are a lieutenant?" she asked, after a pause.
"Yes."
"Where do you come from?"
"From France."
"I might have guessed that," she said ironically, "but from what partof France?"
"From what we call the Lot-et-Garonne."
"From what town?"
"From Duras."
She reflected a moment.
"Duras! There is a little river there, the Dropt, and a fine oldchateau."
"You know Duras?" I murmured, amazed.
"You go there from Bordeaux by a little branch railway," she wenton. "It is a shut-in road, with vine-covered hills crowned bythe feudal ruins. The villages have beautiful names: Monsegur,Sauve-terre-de-Guyenne, la Tresne, Creon, ... Creon, as in Antigone."
"You have been there?"
She looked at me.
"Don't speak so coldly," she said. "Sooner or later we will beintimate, and you may as well lay aside formality now."
This threatening promise suddenly filled me with great happiness. Ithought of Le Mesge's words: "Don't talk until you have seen her. Whenyou have seen her, you will renounce everything for her."
"Have I been in Duras?" she went on with a burst of laughter. "You arejoking. Imagine Neptune's granddaughter in the first-class compartmentof a local train!"
She pointed to an enormous white rock which towered above the palmtrees of the garden.
"That is my horizon," she said gravely.
She picked up one of several books which lay scattered about her onthe lion's skin.
"The time table of the _Chemin de Fer de l'Ouest_," she said."Admirable reading for one who never budges! Here it is half-past fivein the afternoon. A train, a local, arrived three minutes ago atSurgeres in the Charente-Inferieure. It will start on in six minutes.In two hours it will reach La Rochelle. How strange it seems to thinkof such things here. So far away! So much commotion there! Here,nothing changes."
"You speak French well," I said.
She gave a little nervous laugh.
"I have to. And German, too, and Italian, and English and Spanish. Myway of living has made me a great polygot. But I prefer French, evento Tuareg and Arabian. It seems as if I had always known it. And I amnot saying that to please you."
There was a pause. I thought of her grandmother, of whom Plutarchsaid: "There were few races with which she needed an interpreter.Cleopatra spoke their own language to the Ethiopians, to theTroglodytes, the Hebrews, the Arabs, the Medes and the Persians."
"Do not stand rooted in the middle of the room. You worry me. Comesit here, beside me. Move over, King Hiram."
The leopard obeyed with good temper.
Beside her was an onyx bowl. She took from it a perfectly plain ringof orichalch and slipped it on my left ring-finger. I saw that shewore one like it.
"Tanit-Zerga, give Monsieur de Saint-Avit a rose sherbet."
The dark girl in red silk obeyed.
"My private secretary," said Antinea, introducing her. "MademoiselleTanit-Zerga, of Gao, on the Niger. Her family is almost as ancient asmine."
As she spoke, she looked at me. Her green eyes seemed to be appraisingme.
"And your comrade, the Captain?" she asked in a dreamy tone. "I havenot yet seen him. What is he like? Does he resemble you?"
For the first time since I had entered, I thought of Morhange. I didnot answer.
Antinea smiled.
She stretched herself out full length on the lion skin. Her bare rightknee slipped out from under her tunic.
"It is time to go find him," she said languidly. "You will soonreceive my orders. Tanit-Zerga, show him the way. First take him tohis room. He cannot have seen it."
I rose and lifted her hand to my lips. She struck me with it sosharply as to make my lips bleed, as if to brand me as her possession.
* * * * *
I was in the dark corridor again. The young girl in the red silk tunicwalked ahead of me.
"Here is your room," she said. "If you wish, I will take you to thedining-room. The others are about to meet there for dinner."
She spoke an adorable lisping French.
"No, Tanit-Zerga, I would rather stay here this evening. I am nothungry. I am tired."
"You remember my name?" she said.
She seemed proud of it. I felt that in her I had an ally in case ofneed.
"I remember your name,
Tanit-Zerga, because it is beautiful."[12]
[Footnote 12: In Berber, Tanit means a spring; zerga is the feminine ofthe adjective azreg, blue. (Note by M. Leroux.)]
Then I added:
"Now, leave me, little one. I want to be alone."
It seemed as if she would never go. I was touched, but at the sametime vexed. I felt a great need of withdrawing into myself.
"My room is above yours," she said. "There is a copper gong on thetable here. You have only to strike if you want anything. A whiteTarga will answer."
For a second, these instructions amused me. I was in a hotel in themidst of the Sahara. I had only to ring for service.
I looked about my room. My room! For how long?
It was fairly large. Cushions, a couch, an alcove cut into the rock,all lighted by a great window covered by a matting shade.
I went to the window and raised the shade. The light of the settingsun entered.
I leaned my elbows on the rocky sill. Inexpressible emotion filled myheart. The window faced south. It was about two hundred feet above theground. The black, polished volcanic wall yawned dizzily below me.
In front of me, perhaps a mile and a half away, was another wall, thefirst enclosure mentioned in the Critias. And beyond it in thedistance, I saw the limitless red desert.