Since noon the air was heavy, now it became stifling. Rendered torpid by long days of quietness and seclusion, I felt a weight on my forehead and eyes. The approach of a thunderstorm lay heavy on me. I let my arms hang down, and, with head thrown back, and eyes closed, I glided into a doze full of golden Egyptians and lustful shadows. In this uncertain state the sense of love alone was alive in my body, like a fire in the night. How long it had lasted I could not say, when I was awakened by a sound of light steps and the rustling of a dress. I opened my eyes and gave a great shout. A marvellous creature stood before me, clad in black satin, a lace veil on her head--a dark woman with blue eyes, of resolute features in a juvenile and pure skin, round cheeks and the mouth animated as by an invisible kiss. The short skirt let little feet be seen, dancing, jolly, spirited feet. She held herself upright, but was round, somewhat thick-set, in her voluptuous perfection. Under the black velvet ribbon round her throat a little square of her bosom was visible, brown, but dazzling. She looked on me with an air of curiosity. I have said already how sleep had rendered me amorous. I rose quickly, and stepped forward. “Excuse me,” she said, “I am looking for M. d’Asterac.” I said to her: “Madam, there is no M. d’Asterac. There is you and I. I expected you. You are a Salamander. I have opened the crystal flagon. You have come. You are mine.” I took her in my arms and covered with kisses all places my lips could find uncovered by her dress. She tore herself away and said: “You are mad.” “That is quite natural,” I replied. “Who in my place could remain sane?” She lowered her eyes, blushed, and smiled. I fell at her feet. “As M. d’Asterac is not here,” she said, “I had better retire.” “Remain!” I cried, and bolted the door. “Do you know if he will soon be back?” “No, madam! He will not return for a long time. He left me alone with the Salamanders. But I want one only, and that one is you.” I lifted her in my arms, carried her to the sofa, fell down on it with her, and smothered her with kisses. I was out of my senses. She screamed, I did not hear her; she pushed me back with outstretched hands; her fingernails scratched me all over, and her vain defence only excited my frenzy. I pressed, enlaced her, she fell back worn out. Her mollified body gave way, she closed her eyes and soon, in my triumph, her beautiful arms, reconciled, pressed me on her bosom. Released, alas! from that delicious embrace, we looked at one another with surprise. Occupied to get up again decently she put her dress in order and remained silent. “I love you,” I said. “What is your name?” I did not think her to be a Salamander, and to say the truth never did think so. “My name is Jahel,” she said. “What! you’re the niece of Mosaïde?” “Yes; but keep quiet. If he should know--” “What would he do?” “Oh! nothing to me--nothing. But to you the worst. He dislikes Christians.”