smoke blinded us.

Eg-Anteouen stayed at one side of the opening of the cave. He was
seated and, more inscrutible than ever, had begun again to blow great
puffs of gray smoke from his pipe.

The burning brush cast a flickering light. I caught a glimpse of
Morhange. He seemed very pale. With both hands braced against the
wall, he was working to decipher a mass of signs which I could
scarcely distinguish.

Nevertheless, I thought I could see his hands trembling.

"The devil," I thought, finding it more and more difficult to
co-ordinate my thoughts, "he seems to be as unstrung as I."

I heard him call out to Eg-Anteouen in what seemed to me a loud voice:

"Stand to one side. Let the air in. What a smoke!"

He kept on working at the signs.

Suddenly I heard him again, but with difficulty. It seemed as if even
sounds were confused in the smoke.

"Antinea ... At last ... Antinea. But not cut in the rock ... the
marks traced in ochre ... not ten years old, perhaps not five....
Oh!...."

He pressed his hands to his head. Again he cried out: