like mosquitoes. I began to remember my history
composition for the entrance examination of Saint-Cyr, "The Campaign
of Marengo." Obstinately I repeated to myself, "I have already said
that the battery unmasked by Marmont at the moment of Kellerman's
charge included eighteen pieces.... No, I remember now, it was only
twelve pieces. I am sure it was twelve pieces."

I kept on repeating:

"Twelve pieces."

Then I fell into a sort of coma.

I was recalled from it by feeling a red-hot iron on my forehead. I
opened my eyes. Tanit-Zerga was bending over me. It was her hand which
burnt so.

"Get up," she said. "We must go on."

"Go on, Tanit-Zerga! The desert is on fire. The sun is at the zenith.
It is noon."

"We must go on," she repeated.

Then I saw that she was delirious.

She was standing erect. Her _haik_ had fallen to the ground and little
Gale, rolled up in a ball, was asleep on it.

Bareheaded, indifferent to the frightful sunlight, she kept repeating:

"We must go on."

A little sense came back to me.

"Cover your head, Tanit-Zerga, cover your head."

"Come," she repeated. "Let's go. Gao is over there, not far away. I
can feel it. I want to see Gao again."

I made her sit down beside me in the shadow of a rock. I realized that
all strength had left her. The wave of pity that swept over me,
brought back my senses.

"Gao is just over there, isn't it?" she asked.

Her gleaming eyes became imploring.

"Yes, dear little girl. Gao is there. But for God's sake lie down. The
sun is fearful."

"Oh, Gao, Gao!" she repeated. "I know very well that I shall see Gao
again."

She sat up. Her fiery little hands gripped mine.

"Listen. I must tell you so you can understand how I know I shall see
Gao again."

"Tanit-Zerga, be quiet, my little girl, be quiet."

"No, I must tell you. A long time ago, on the bank of the river where
there is water, at Gao, where my father was a prince, there was....
Well, one day, one feast day, there came from the interior of the
country an old magician, dressed in skins and feathers, with a mask
and a pointed head-dress, with castanets, and two serpents in a bag.
On the village square, where all our people formed in a circle, he
danced the _boussadilla_. I was in the first row, and because I had a
necklace of pink tourmaline, he quickly saw that I was the daughter of
a chief. So he spoke to me of the past, of the great Mandingue Empire
over which my grandfathers had rul