ginning to take. I had, at that instant, the sensation of journeying
toward something incredible, toward some tremendous adventure. You do
not live with impunity for months and years as the guest of the
desert. Sooner or later, it has its way with you, annihilates the good
officer, the timid executive, overthrows his solicitude for his
responsibilities. What is there behind those mysterious rocks, those
dim solitudes, which have held at bay the most illustrious pursuers of
mystery? You follow, I tell you, you follow.

* * * * *

"Are you sure at least that this inscription is interesting enough to
justify us in our undertaking?" I asked Morhange.

My companion started with pleasure. Ever since we began our journey I
had realized his fear that I was coming along half-heartedly. As soon
as I offered him a chance to convince me, his scruples vanished, and
his triumph seemed assured to him.

"Never," he answered, in a voice that he tried to control, but through
which the enthusiasm rang out, "never has a Greek inscription been
found so far south. The farthest points where they have been reported
are in the south of Algeria and Cyrene. But in Ahaggar! Think of it!
It is true that this one is translated into Tifinar. But this
peculiarity does not diminish the interest of the coincidence: it
increases it."

"What do you take to be the meaning of this word?"

"_Antinea_ can only be a proper name," said Morhange. "To whom does it
refer? I admit I don't know, and if at this very moment I am marching
toward the south, dragging you along with me, it is because I count on
learning more about it. Its etymology? It hasn't one definitely, but
there are thirty possibilities. Bear in mind that the Tifinar alphabet
is far from tallying with the Greek alphabet, which increases the
number of hypotheses. Shall I suggest several?"

"I was just about to ask you to."

"To begin with, there is [Greek: agti] and [Greek: neos], _the woman
who is placed opposite a vessel_, an explanation which would have been
pleasing to Gaffarel and to my venerated master Berlioux. That would
apply well enough to the figure-heads of ships. There is a technical
term that I cannot recall at this moment, not if you beat me a hundred
times over.[7]

[Footnote 7: It is perhaps worth noting here that _Figures de Proues_
is the exact title of a very remarkable collection of poems by Mme.
Delarus-Mardrus. (Note by M. Leroux.)]