"Gâo," she repeated. "Oh, I know it well! There are the trees and the
fountains, the cupolas and the towers, the palm trees, the great red
and white flowers. Gâo...."
Indeed, along the shimmering horizon rose a fantastic city with mighty
buildings that towered, tier on tier, until they formed a rainbow.
Wide-eyed, we stood and watched the terrible mirage quiver feverishly
before us.
"Gâo!" I cried. "Gâo!"
And almost immediately I uttered another cry, of sorrow and of horror.
Tanit-Zerga's little hand relaxed in mine. I had just time to catch
the child in my arms and hear her murmur as in a whisper:
"And then that will be the day of deliverance. The day of deliverance
and of royalty."
Several hours later I took the knife with which we had skinned the
desert gazelle and, in the sand at the foot of the rock where
Tanit-Zerga had given up her spirit, I made a little hollow where she
was to rest.
When everything was ready, I wanted to look once more at that dear
little face. Courage failed me for a moment.... Then I quickly drew
the _haik_ over the brown face and laid the body of the child in the
hollow.