t, in the midst of obscurity. The white waters
rushed into the depths of the black hole, and rose and rose towards
the pedestal on which we stood. And there was the uninterrupted noise
of thunder, and still louder, the sound of whole walls of rock,
undermined by the flood, collapsing in a heap and dissolving in a few
seconds of time in the midst of the rising water.

All the time that this deluge lasted, one hour, perhaps two, Morhange
and I stayed bending over this fantastic foaming vat; anxious to see,
to see everything, to see in spite of everything; rejoicing with a
kind of ineffable horror when we felt the shelf of basalt on which we
had taken refuge swaying beneath us from the battering impact of the
water. I believe that never for an instant did we think, so beautiful
it was, of wishing for the end of that gigantic nightmare.

Finally a ray of the sun shone through. Only then did we look at each
other.

Morhange held out his hand.

"Thank you," he said simply.

And he added with a smile:

"To be drowned in the very middle of the Sahara would have been
pretentious and ridiculous. You have saved us, thanks to your power of
decision, from this very paradoxical end."

Ah, that he had been thrown by a misstep of his camel and rolled to
his death in the midst of the flood! Then what followed would never
have happened. That is the thought that comes to me in hours of
weakness. But I have told you that I pull myself out of it quickly.
No, no, I do not regret it, I cannot regret it, that what happened did
happen.

* * * * *

Morhange left me to go into the little grotto, where Bou-Djema's
camels were now resting comfortably. I stayed alone, watching the
torrent which was continuously rising with the impetuous inrush of its
unbridled tributaries. It had stopped raining. The sun shone from a
sky that had renewed its blueness. I could feel the clothes that had a
moment before been drenching, drying upon me incredibly fast.

A hand was placed on my shoulder. Morhange was again beside me.

"Come here," he said.

Somewhat surprised, I followed him. We went into the grotto.

The opening, which was big enough to admit the camels, made it fairly
light. Morhange led me up to the smooth face of rock opposite. "Look,"
he said, with unconcealed joy.

"What of it?"

"Don't you see?"

"I see that there are several Tuareg inscriptions," I answered, with
some disappointment. "But I thou