Atlantida - Page 124/145

"Leave me alone," I said brutally.

"Well, it is signed Gaston Boissier. Yes, sir! Gaston Boissier, grand

officer of the Legion of Honor, lecturer at the Ecole Normale

Supérieure, permanent secretary of the French Academy, member of the

Academy of Inscriptions and Literature, one of those who once ruled

out the subject of my thesis ... one of those ... ah, poor university,

ah, poor France!"

I was no longer listening. I had begun to read again. My forehead was

covered with sweat. But it seemed as if my head had been cleared like

a room when a window is opened; memories were beginning to come back

like doves winging their way home to the dovecote.

"At that moment, an irrepressible tremor shook her whole body; her

eyes dilated as if some terrible sight had filled them with horror.

"'Antonello,' she murmured.

"And for seconds, she was unable to say another word.

"I looked at her in mute anguish and the suffering which drew her dear

lips together seemed also to clutch at my heart. The vision which was

in her eyes passed into mine, and I saw again the thin white face of

Antonello, and the quick quivering of his eyelids, the waves of agony

which seized his long worn body and shook it like a reed."

I threw the magazine upon the table.

"That is it," I said.

To cut the pages, I had used the knife with which M. Le Mesge had cut

the cords of the bale, a short ebony-handled dagger, one of those

daggers that the Tuareg wear in a bracelet sheath against the upper

left arm.

I slipped it into the big pocket of my flannel dolman and walked

toward the door.

I was about to cross the threshold when I heard M. Le Mesge call me.

"Monsieur de Saint Avit! Monsieur de Saint Avit!

"I want to ask you something, please."

"What is it?"

"Nothing important. You know that I have to mark the labels for the

red marble hall...."

I walked toward the table.

"Well, I forgot to ask M. Morhange, at the beginning, the date and

place of his birth. After that, I had no chance. I did not see him

again. So I am forced to turn to you. Perhaps you can tell me?"

"I can," I said very calmly.

He took a large white card from a box which contained several and

dipped his pen.

"Number 54 ... Captain?"

"Captain Jean-Marie-François Morhange."

While I dictated, one hand resting on the table, I noticed on my cuff

a stain, a little stain, reddish brown.

"Morhange," repeated M. Le Mesge, finishing the lettering of my

friend's name. "Born at...?"