"We must go on," she repeated.
Then I saw that she was delirious.
She was standing erect. Her haik had fallen to the ground and little Galé, rolled up in a ball, was asleep on it.
Bareheaded, indifferent to the frightful sunlight, she kept repeating:
"We must go on."
A little sense came back to me.
"Cover your head, Tanit-Zerga, cover your head."
"Come," she repeated. "Let's go. Gâo is over there, not far away. I can feel it. I want to see Gâo again."
I made her sit down beside me in the shadow of a rock. I realized that all strength had left her. The wave of pity that swept over me, brought back my senses.
"Gâo is just over there, isn't it?" she asked.