rget
the cloister. And all because Cegheir-ben-Cheikh stole Captain
Masson's pipe....

Again that accursed song. "The seventh is a boy, one of whose eyes has
flown away." One cannot imagine more senseless words. It is very
strange, really: there seem to be four of us in this cave now. Four, I
say, five, six, seven, eight.... Make yourselves at home, my friends.
What! there are no more of you?... I am going to find out at last how
the spirits of this region are made, the _Gamphasantes_, the
_Blemyens_.... Morhange says that the _Blemyens_ have their faces on
the middle of their chests. Surely this one who is seizing me in his
arms is not a _Blemyen_! Now he is carrying me outside. And Morhange
... I do not want them to forget Morhange....

They did not forget him; I see him perched on a camel in front of that
one to which I am fastened. They did well to fasten me, for otherwise
I surely would tumble off. These spirits certainly are not bad
fellows. But what a long way it is! I want to stretch out. To sleep. A
while ago we surely were following a long passage, then we were in the
open air. Now we are again in an endless stifling corridor. Here are
the stars again.... Is this ridiculous course going to keep on?...

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 c