“Because,” replied the little man imperturbably, “this book is her patent of nobility, her Almanach de Gotha, in a sense, do you understand?  Because it established her prodigious genealogy:  because she is....”

“Because she is?” repeated Morhange.

“Because she is the grand daughter of Neptune, the last descendant of the Atlantides.”

IX

ATLANTIS

M. Le Mesge looked at Morhange triumphantly.  It was evident that he addressed himself exclusively to Morhange, considering him alone worthy of his confidences.

“There have been many, sir,” he said, “both French and foreign officers who have been brought here at the caprice of our sovereign, Antinea.  You are the first to be honored by my disclosures.  But you were the pupil of Berlioux, and I owe so much to the memory of that great man that it seems to me I may do him homage by imparting to one of his disciples the unique results of my private research.”

He struck the bell.  Ferradji appeared.

“Coffee for these gentlemen,” ordered M. Le Mesge.

He handed us a box, gorgeously decorated in the most flaming colors, full of Egyptian cigarettes.

“I never smoke,” he explained.  “But Antinea sometimes comes here.  These are her cigarettes.  Help yourselves, gentlemen.”

I have always had a horror of that pale tobacco which gives a barber of the Rue de la Michodiere the illusion of oriental voluptuousness.  But, in their way, these musk-scented cigarettes were not bad, and it was a long time since I had used up my stock of Caporal.

“Here are the back numbers of Le Vie Parisienne” said M. Le Mesge to me.  “Amuse yourself with them, if you like, while I talk to your friend.”

“Sir,” I replied brusquely, “it is true that I never studied with Berlioux.  Nevertheless, you must allow me to listen to your conversation:  I shall hope to find something in it to amuse me.”

“As you wish,” said the little old man.

We settled ourselves comfortably.  M. Le Mesge sat down before the desk, shot his cuffs, and commenced as follows: 

“However much, gentlemen, I prize complete objectivity in matters of erudition, I cannot utterly detach my own history from that of the last descendant of Clito and Neptune.

“I am the creation of my own efforts.  From my childhood, the prodigious impulse given to the science of history by the nineteenth century has affected me.  I saw where my way led.  I have followed it, in spite of everything.

“In spite of everything, everything—­I mean it literally.  With no other resources than my own work and merit, I was received as Fellow of History and Geography at the examination of 1880.  A great examination!  Among the thirteen who were accepted there were names which have since become illustrious:  Julian, Bourgeois, Auerbach....  I do not envy my colleagues on the summits of their official honors; I read their works with commiseration; and the pitiful errors to which they are condemned by the insufficiency of their documents would amply counterbalance my chagrin and fill me with ironic joy, had I not been raised long since above the satisfaction of self-love.