he marvelous woman I have told you about
will be ensconced on that day when the hundred and twenty niches,
hollowed out in a circle around her throne, shall each have received
its willing prey.

"When I left Ahaggar, you remember that it was niche number 55 that
was to be mine. Since then, I have never stopped calculating and I
conclude that it is in number 80 or 85 that I shall repose. But any
calculations based upon so fragile a foundation as a woman's whim may
be erroneous. That is why I am getting more and more nervous. 'I must
hurry,' I tell myself. 'I must hurry.'

"I must hurry," I repeated, as if I were in a dream.

He raised his head with an indefinable expression of joy. His hand
trembled with happiness when he shook mine.

"You will see," he repeated excitedly, "you will see."

Ecstatically, he took me in his arms and held me there a long moment.

An extraordinary happiness swept over both of us, while, alternately
laughing and crying like children, we kept repeating:

"We must hurry. We must hurry."

Suddenly there sprang up a slight breeze that made the tufts of thatch
in the roof rustle. The sky, pale lilac, grew paler still, and,
suddenly, a great yellow rent tore it in the east. Dawn broke over the
empty desert. From within the stockade came dull noises, a bugle call,
the rattle of chains. The post was waking up.

For several seconds we stood there silent, our eyes fixed on the
southern route by which one reaches Temassinin, Eguere and Ahaggar.

A rap on the dining-room door behind us made us start.

"Come in," said Andre de Saint-Avit in a voice which had become
suddenly hard.

The Quartermaster, Chatelain, stood before us.

"What do you want of me at this hour?" Saint-Avit asked brusquely.

The non-com stood at attention.

"Excuse me, Captain. But a native was discovered near the post, last
night, by the patrol. He was not trying to hide. As soon as he had
been brought here, he asked to be led before the commanding officer.
It was midnight and I didn't want to disturb you."

"Who is this native?"

"A Targa, Captain."

"A Targa? Go get him."

Chatelain stepped aside. Escorted by one of our native soldiers, the
man stood behind him.

They came out on the terrace.

The new arrival, six feet tall, was indeed a Targa. The light of dawn
fell upon his blue-black cotton robes. One could see his great dark
eyes flashing.

When he was opposite my companion, I saw a tremor, immediatel