Hello, lights! Stars, perhaps. No, lights, I say. A stairway, on my word; of rocks, to be sure, but still, a stairway. How can the camels...? But it is no longer a camel; this is a man carrying me. A man dressed in white, not a _Gamphasante_ nor a _Blemyen_. Morhange must be giving himself airs with his historical reasoning, all false, I repeat, all false. Good Morhange. Provided that his _Gamphasante_ does not let him fall on this unending stairway. Something glitters on the ceiling. Yes, it is a lamp, a copper lamp, as at Tunis, at Barbouchy's. Good, here again you cannot see anything. But I am making a fool of myself; I am lying down; now I can go to sleep. What a silly day!... Gentlemen, I assure you that it is unnecessary to bind me: I do not want to go down on the boulevards. Darkness again. Steps of someone going away. Silence. But only for a moment. Someone is talking beside me. What are they saying?... No, it is impossible. That metallic ring, that voice. Do you know what it is calling, that voice, do you know what it is calling in the tones of someone used to the phrase? Well, it is calling: "Play your cards, gentlemen, play your cards. There are ten thousand _louis_ in the bank. Play your cards, gentlemen." In the name of God, am I or am I not at Ahaggar? VIII AWAKENING AT AHAGGAR It was broad daylight when I opened my eyes. I thought at once of Morhange. I could not see him, but I heard him, close by, giving little grunts of surprise. I called to him. He ran to me. "Then they didn't tie you up?" I asked. "I beg your pardon. They did. But they did it badly; I managed to get free." "You might have untied me, too," I remarked crossly. "What good would it have done? I should only have waked you up. And I thought that your first word would be to call me. There, that's done." I reeled as I tried to stand on my feet. Morhange smiled. "We might have spent the whole night smoking and drinking and not been in a worse state," he said. "Anyhow, that Eg-Anteouen with his hasheesh is a fine rascal." "Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh," I corrected. I rubbed my hand over my forehead. "Where are we?" "My dear boy," Morhange replied, "since I awakened from the extraordinary nightmare which is mixed up with the smoky cave and the lamp-lit stairway of the Arabian Nights, I have been going from surprise to surprise, from confusion to confusion. Just look around you." I rubbed my eyes and stared. Then I seized my friend's hand. "Morhange," I begged, "tell me if we are still dreaming." We were in a round room, perhaps fifty feet in diameter, and of about the same height, lighted by a great window opening on a sky of intense blue. Swallows flew back and forth, outside, giving quick, joyous cries.