My mind, thenceforth, was well made up; and, as I said, I was
perfectly calm. Nevertheless, when I had taken leave of M. Le Mesge, I
felt the need of waiting a few minutes before executing my decision.
First I wandered through the corridors; then, finding myself near my
room, I went to it. It was still intolerably hot. I sat down on my
divan and began to think.
The dagger in my pocket bothered me. I took it out and laid it on the
floor.
It was a good dagger, with a diamond-shaped blade, and with a collar
of orange leather between the blade and the handle.
The sight of it recalled the silver hammer. I remembered how easily it
fitted into my hand when I struck....
Every detail of the scene came back to me with incomparable vividness.
But I did not even shiver. It seemed as if my determination to kill
the instigator of the murder permitted me peacefully to evoke its
brutal details.
If I reflected over my deed, it was to be surprised at it, not to
condemn myself.
"Well," I said to myself, "I have killed this Morhange, who was once a
baby, who, like all the others, cost his mother so much trouble with
his baby sicknesses. I have put an end to his life, I have reduced to
nothingness the monument of love, of tears, of trials overcome and
pitfalls escaped, which constitutes a human existence. What an
extraordinary adventure!"
That was all. No fear, no remorse, none of that Shakespearean horror
after the murder, which, today, sceptic though I am and blasé and
utterly, utterly disillusioned, sets me shuddering whenever I am alone
in a dark room.
"Come," I thought. "It's time. Time to finish it up."
I picked up the dagger. Before putting it in my pocket, I went through
the motion of striking. All was well. The dagger fitted into my hand.
I had been through Antinea's apartment only when guided, the first
time by the white Targa, the second time, by the leopard. Yet I found
the way again without trouble. Just before coming to the door with the
rose window, I met a Targa.
"Let me pass," I ordered. "Your mistress has sent for me." The man
obeyed, stepping back.
Soon a dim melody came to my ears. I recognized the sound of a
_rebaza_, the violin with a single string, played by the Tuareg women.
It was Aguida playing, squatting as usual at the feet of her mistress.
The three other women were also squatted about her. Tanit-Zerga was
not there.
Oh! Since that was the last time I saw her, let, oh, let me tell you
of Antinea, how she looked in that supreme moment.
Did she feel the danger hovering over her and did she wish to brave it
by her surest artifices? I had in mind the slender; unadorned body,
without rings, without jewels, which I had pressed to my heart the
night before. And now I started in surprise at seeing before me,
adorned like an idol, not a woman, but a queen!
The heavy splendor of the Pharaohs weighted down her slender body. On
her head was the great gold _pschent_ of Egyptian gods and kings;
emeralds, the national stone of the Tuareg, were set in it, tracing
and retracing her name in Tifinar characters. A red satin _schenti_,
embroidered in golden lotus, enveloped her like the casket of a jewel.
At her feet, lay an ebony scepter, headed with a trident. Her bare
arms were encircled by two serpents whose fangs touched her armpits as
if to bury themselves there. From the ear pieces of the _pschent_
streamed a necklace of emeralds; its first strand passed under her
determined chin; the others lay in circles against her bare throat.
She smiled as I entered.
"I was expecting you," she said simply.
I advanced till I was four steps from the throne, then stopped before
her.
She looked at me ironically.
"What is that?" she asked with perfect calm.
I followed her gesture. The handle of the dagger protruded from my
pocket.