ver, thrown to the ground, as if by a sort of meteor. The corridor
was 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 night
lights soon began to light up the corridor.

We reached a high bronze door, in which a strange lacy design had
been cut in filigree. A clear gong sounded, and the double doors
opened part way. The Targa remained in the corridor, closing the doors
after me.

I took a few steps forward mechanically, then paused, rooted to the
spot, and rubbed my eyes.

I was dazzled by the sight of the sky.

Several hours of shaded light had unaccustomed me to daylight. It
poured in through one whole side of the huge room.

The room was in the lower part of this mountain, which was more
honeycombed with corridors and passages than an Egyptian pyramid. It
was on a level with the garden which I had seen in the morning from
the balcony, and seemed to be a continuation of it; the carpet
extended out under the great palm trees and the birds flew about the
forest of pillars in the room.

By contrast, the half of the room untouched by direct light from the
oasis seemed dark. The sun, setting behind the mountain, painted the
garden paths with rose and flamed with red upon the traditional
flamingo which stood with one foot raised at the edge of the sapphire
lake.

Suddenly I was bowled over a second time.

I felt a warm, silky touch, a burning breath on my neck. Again the
mocking growl which had so disturbed me in the corridor.

With a wrench, I pulled myself free and sent a chance blow at my
assailant. The cry, this time of pain and rage, broke out again.

It was echoed by a long peal of laughter. Furious, I turned to look
for the insolent onlooker, thinking to speak my mind. And then my
glance stood still.

Antinea was before me.

In the dimmest part of the room, under a kind of arch lit by the mauve
rays from a dozen incense-lamps, four women lay on a heap of
many-colored cushions and rare white Persian rugs.

I recognized the first three as Tuareg women, of a splendid regular
beauty, dressed in magnificent robes of white silk embroidered in
gold. The fourth, very dark skinned, almost negroid, seemed younger.
A tunic of red silk enhanced the dusk of her face, her arms and her
bare feet. The four