My guide and I passed along another long corridor. My excitement
increased. I was impatient for one thing only, to come face to face
with that woman, to tell her.... So far as anything else was
concerned, I already was done for.
I was mistaken in hoping that the adventure would take an heroic turn
at once. In real life, these contrasts never are definitely marked
out. I should have remembered from many past incidents that the
burlesque was regularly mixed with the tragic in my life.
We reached a little transparent door. My guide stood aside to let me
pass.
I found myself in the most luxurious of dressing-rooms. A ground glass
ceiling diffused a gay rosy light over the marble floor. The first
thing I noticed was a clock, fastened to the wall. In place of the
figures for the hours, were the signs of the Zodiac. The small hand
had not yet reached the sign of Capricorn.
Only three o'clock!
The day seemed to have lasted a century already.... And only a little
more than half of it was gone.
Another idea came to me, and a convulsive laugh bent me double.
"Antinea wants me to be at my best when I meet her."
A mirror of orichalch formed one whole side of the room. Glancing into
it, I realized that in all decency there was nothing exaggerated in
the demand.
My untrimmed beard, the frightful layer of dirt which lay about my
eyes and furrowed my cheeks, my clothing, spotted by all the clay of
the Sahara and torn by all the thorns of Ahaggar--all this made me
appear a pitiable enough suitor.
I lost no time in undressing and plunging into the porphry bath in the
center of the room. A delicious drowsiness came over me in that
perfumed water. A thousand little jars, spread on a costly carved wood
dressing-table, danced before my eyes. They were of all sizes and
colors, carved in a very transparent kind of jade. The warm humidity
of the atmosphere hastened my relaxation.
I still had strength to think, "The devil take Atlantis and the vault
and Le Mesge."
Then I fell asleep in the bath.
When I opened my eyes again, the little hand of the clock had almost
reached the sign of Taurus. Before me, his black hands braced on the
edge of the bath, stood a huge Negro, bare-faced and bare-armed, his
forehead bound with an immense orange turban.
He looked at me and showed his white teeth in a silent laugh.
"Who is this fellow?"
The Negro laughed harder. Without saying a word, he lifted me like a
feather out of the perfumed water, now of a color on which I shall not
dwell.