The light in the west was fading, where the sun had already sunk into a matchless luxury of violet draperies. We were alone in this immensity, at the feet of the rigid black rocks. Nothing but ourselves. Nothing, nothing but ourselves. I held out my hand to Morhange, and he pressed it. Then he said: "If they still seem infinitely long to me, the several thousand kilometers which separate me from the instant when, my task accomplished, I shall at last find oblivion in the cloister for the things for which I was not made, let me tell you this;--the several hundred kilometers which still separate us from Shikh-Salah seem to me infinitely short to traverse in your company." On the pale water of the little pool, motionless and fixed like a silver nail, a star had just been born. "Shikh-Salah," I murmured, my heart full of an indefinable sadness. "Patience, we are not there yet." In truth, we never were to be there. V THE INSCRIPTION With a blow of the tip of his cane Morhange knocked a fragment of rock from the black flank of the mountain. "What is it?" he asked, holding it out to me. "A basaltic peridot," I said. "It can't be very interesting, you barely glanced at it." "It is very interesting, on the contrary. But, for the moment, I admit that I am otherwise preoccupied." "How?" "Look this way a bit," I said, showing towards the west, on the horizon, a black spot across the white plain. It was six o'clock in the morning. The sun had risen. But it could not be found in the surprisingly polished air. And not a breath of air, not a breath. Suddenly one of the camels called. An enormous antelope had just come in sight, and had stopped in its flight, terrified, racing the wall of rock. It stayed there at a little distance from us, dazed, trembling on its slender legs. Bou-Djema had rejoined us. "When the legs of the mohor tremble it is because the firmament is shaken," he muttered. "A storm?" "Yes, a storm." "And you find that alarming?" I did not answer immediately. I was exchanging several brief words with Bou-Djema, who was occupied in soothing the camels which were giving signs of being restive. Morhange repeated his question. I shrugged my shoulders. "Alarming? I don't know. I have never seen a storm on the Hoggar. But I distrust it. And the signs are that this is going to be a big one. See there already." A slight dust had risen before the cliff. In the still air a few grains of sand had begun to whirl round and round, with a speed which increased to dizziness, giving us in advance the spectacle in miniature of what would soon be breaking upon us. With harsh cries a flock of wild geese appeared, flying low. They came out of the west. "They are fleeing towards the Sebkha d'Amanghor," said Bou-Djema. There could be no greater mistake, I thought. Morhange looked at me curiously. "What must we do?" he asked.