"Get away from that old dotard as soon as you can," whispered the Hetman of Jitomir to me. "The party of _Trente et Quarante_ will begin soon. You shall see. You shall see. We go it even harder than at Cora Pearl's." "Gentlemen," repeated M. Le Mesge in his dry tone. We followed him. When the three of us were back again in the library, he said, addressing me: "You, sir, asked a little while ago what occult power holds you here. Your manner was threatening, and I should have refused to comply had it not been for your friend, whose knowledge enables him to appreciate better than you the value of the revelations I am about to make to you." He touched a spring in the side of the wall. A cupboard appeared, stuffed with books. He took one. "You are both of you," continued M. Le Mesge, "in the power of a woman. This woman, the sultaness, the queen, the absolute sovereign of Ahaggar, is called Antinea. Don't start, M. Morhange, you will soon understand." He opened the book and read this sentence: "'I must warn you before I take up the subject matter: do not be surprised to hear me call the barbarians by Greek names.'" "What is that book?" stammered Morhange, whose pallor terrified me. "This book," M. Le Mesge replied very slowly, weighing his words, with an extraordinary expression of triumph, "is the greatest, the most beautiful, the most secret, of the dialogues of Plato; it is the Critias of Atlantis." "The Critias? But it is unfinished," murmured Morhange. "It is unfinished in France, in Europe, everywhere else," said M. Le Mesge, "but it is finished here. Look for yourself at this copy." "But what connection," repeated Morhange, while his eyes traveled avidly over the pages, "what connection can there be between this dialogue, complete,--yes, it seems to me complete--what connection with this woman, Antinea? Why should it be in her possession?" "Because," replied the little man imperturbably, "this book is her patent of nobility, her _Almanach de Gotha_, in a sense, do you understand? Because it established her prodigious genealogy: because she is...." "Because she is?" repeated Morhange. "Because she is the grand daughter of Neptune, the last descendant of the Atlantides." IX ATLANTIS M. Le Mesge looked at Morhange triumphantly. It was evident that he addressed himself exclusively to Morhange, considering him alone worthy of his confidences. "There have been many, sir," he said, "both French and foreign officers who have been brought here at the caprice of our sovereign, Antinea. You are the first to be honored by my disclosures. But you were the pupil of Berlioux, and I owe so much to the memory of that great man that it seems to me I may do him homage by imparting to one of his disciples the unique results of my private research." He struck the bell. Ferradji appeared. "Coffee for these gentlemen," ordered M. Le Mesge. He handed us a box, gorgeously decorated in the most flaming colors, full of Egyptian cigarettes.