For several seconds we stood there silent, our eyes fixed on the
southern route by which one reaches Temassinin, Eguéré and Ahaggar.
A rap on the dining-room door behind us made us start.
"Come in," said André 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, immediately
suppressed, run through both men.
They looked at each other for an instant in silence.
Then, bowing, and in a very calm voice, the Targa spoke: "Peace be with you, Lieutenant de Saint-Avit."
In the same calm voice, André answered him: "Peace be with you, Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh."