The strange concert ceased as the first stars appeared in the sky.
With deep emotion we watched the tiny bluish flames appear, one after
another. At that portentous moment they seemed to span the distance
between us, isolated, condemned, lost, and our brothers of higher
latitudes, who at that hour were rushing about their poor pleasures
with delirious frenzy in cities where the whiteness of electric lamps
came on in a burst.

_Chêt-Ahadh essa hetîsenet
Mâteredjrê d'Erredjaot,
Mâtesekek d-Essekâot,
Mâtelahrlahr d'Ellerhâot,
Ettâs djenen, barâd tît-ennit abâtet._

Eg-Anteouen's voice raised itself in slow guttural tones. It resounded
with sad, grave majesty in the silence now complete.

I touched the Targa's arm. With a movement of his head, he pointed to
a constellation glittering in the firmament.

"The Pleiades," I murmured to Morhange, showing him the seven pale
stars, while Eg-Anteouen took up his mournful song in the same
monotone:

"The Daughters of the Night are seven:
Mâteredjrê and Erredjeâot,
Mâtesekek and Essekâot,
Mâtelahrlahr and Ellerhâot,
The seventh is a boy, one of whose eyes has flown away."