And，moreover，itwasnecessarytopreservethebodyatwhatevercost，foracertain/double/ofthedeadmancontinuedtodwellinthedryflesh，andretainedakindofhalflife，barelyconscious.Lyingatthebottomofthesarcophagusitwasabletosee，byvirtueofthosetwoeyes，whichwerepaintedonthelid，alwaysinthesameaxisastheemptyeyesofthemummy.Sometimes，too，this/double/，escapingfromthemummyanditsbox，usedtowanderlikeaphantomaboutthehypogeum.And，inorderthatatsuchtimesitmightbeabletoobtainnourishment，amassofmummifiedviandswrappedinbandageswereamongstthethousandandonethingsburiedatitsside.Evennatronandoilswereleft，sothatitmightre—embalmitself，ifthewormscametolifeinitsmembers.
　　Oh！thepersistenceofthis/double/，sealedthereinthetomb，apreytoanxiety，lestcorruptionshouldtakeholdofit;whichhadtoserveitslongdurationinsuffocatingdarkness，inabsolutesilence，withoutanythingtomarkthedaysandnights，ortheseasonsorthecenturies，orthetensofcenturieswithoutend！Itwaswithsuchaterribleconceptionofdeathasthisthateachoneinthosedayswasabsorbedinthepreparationofhiseternalchamber.
　　AndforAmenophisII.thismoreorlessiswhathappenedtohis/double/.Unaccustomedtoanykindofnoise，afterthreeorfourhundredyearspassedinthecompanyofcertainfamiliars，lulledinthesameheavyslumberashimself，heheardthesoundofmuffledblowsinthedistance，bythesideofthehiddenwell.Thesecretentrancewasdiscovered：menwerebreakingthroughitswalls！Livingbeingswereabouttoappear，pillagersoftombs，nodoubt，cometounswathethemall！Butno！OnlysomepriestsofOsiris，advancingwithfearinafuneralprocession.Theybroughtninegreatcoffinscontainingthemummiesofninekings，hissons，grandsonsandotherunknownsuccessors，downtothatKingSetnakht，whogovernedEgypttwoandahalfcenturiesafterhim.Itwassimplytohidethembetterthattheybroughtthemhither，andplacedthemalltogetherinachamberthatwasimmediatelywalledup.Thentheydeparted.Thestonesofthedoorweresealedafresh，andeverythingfellagainintotheoldmournfulandburningdarkness.
　　Slowlythecenturiesrolledon——perhapsten，perhapstwenty——inasilencenolongerevendisturbedbythescratchingsoftheworms，longsincedead.Andadaycamewhen，atthesideoftheentrance，thesameblowswereheardagainAndthistimeitwastherobbers.
　　Carryingtorchesintheirhands，theyrushedheadlongin，withshoutsandcriesand，exceptinthesafehiding—placeoftheninecoffins，everythingwasplundered，thebandagestornoff，thegoldentrinketssnatchedfromthenecksofthemummies.Then，whentheyhadsortedtheirbooty，theywalleduptheentranceasbefore，andwenttheirway，leavinganinextricableconfusionofshrouds，ofhumanbodies，ofentrailsissuingfromshatteredvases，ofbrokengodsandemblems.
　　Afterwards，forlongcenturies，therewassilenceagain，andfinally，inourdays，the/double/，theninitslastweaknessandalmostnon—
　　existent，perceivedthesamenoiseofstonesbeingunsealedbyblowsofpickaxes.Thethirdtime，thelivingmenwhoenteredwereofaraceneverseenbefore.Atfirsttheyseemedrespectfulandpious，onlytouchingthingsgently.Buttheycametoplundereverything，eventheninecoffinsintheirstillinviolatehiding—place.Theygatheredthesmallestfragmentswithasolicitudealmostreligious.Thattheymightlosenothingtheyevensiftedtherubbishandthedust.But，asforAmenophis，whowasalreadynothingmorethanalamentablemummy，withoutjewelsorbandages，theylefthimatthebottomofhissarcophagusofsandstone.Andsincethatday，doomedtoreceiveeachmorningnumerouspeopleofastrangeaspect，hedwellsaloneinhishypogeum，wherethereisnowneitherabeingnorathingbelongingtohistime.
　　Butyes，thereis！Wehadnotlookedallround.Thereinoneofthelateralchamberssomebodiesarelying，deadbodies——threecorpses（unswathedatthetimeofthepillage），sidebysideontheirrags.
　　First，awoman，thequeenprobably，withloosenedhair.Herprofilehaspreserveditsexquisitelines.Howbeautifulshestillis！Andthenayoungboywiththelittlegreyishfaceofadoll.Hisheadisshaved，exceptforthatlongcurlattherightside，whichdenotesaprinceoftheroyalblood.Andthethirdaman.Ugh！Howterribleheis——lookingasifhefounddeathathingirresistiblycomical.Heevenwritheswithlaughter，andeatsacornerofhisshroudasiftopreventhimselffromburstingintoatoounseemlymirth.
　　Andthen，suddenly，blacknight！Andwestandasifcongealedinourplace.Theelectriclighthasgoneout——everywhereatonce.Above，ontheearth，middaymusthavesounded——forthosewhostillhavecognisanceofthesunandthehours.
　　TheguardwhohasbroughtushithershoutsinhisBedouinfalsetto，inordertogetthelightswitchedonagain，buttheinfinitethicknessofthewalls，insteadofprolongingthevibrations，seemstodeadenthem;andbesides，whocouldhearus，inthedepthswherewenoware？
　　Then，gropingintheabsolutedarkness，hemakeshiswayuptheslopingpassage.Thehurriedpatterofhissandalsandtheflappingofhisburnousgrowfaintinthedistance，andthecriesthathecontinuestouttersoundsosmotheredtoussoonthatwemightourselvesbeburied.Andmeanwhilewedonotmove.Buthowcomesitthatitissohotamongstthesemummies？Itseemsasiftherewerefiresburninginsomeovencloseby.Andaboveallthereisawantofair.Perhapsthecorridors，afterourpassage，havecontracted，ashappenssometimesintheanguishofdreams.Perhapsthelongfissurebywhichwehavecrawledhither，perhapsithasclosedinuponus.
　　Butatlengththecriesofalarmareheardandthelightisturnedonagain.Thethreecorpseshavenotprofitedbytheunguardedmomentstoattemptanyaggressivemovement.Theirpositions，theirexpressionshavenotchanged：thequeencalmandbeautifulasever;themaneatingstillthecornerofhisragstostiflethemadlaughterofthirty—
　　threecenturies.
　　TheBedouinisnowreturned，breathlessfromhisjourney.Heurgesustocometoseethekingbeforetheelectriclightisagainextinguished，andthistimeforgoodandall.Beholdusnowattheendofthehall，ontheedgeofadarkcrypt，leaningoverandpeeringwithin.Itisaplaceovalinform，withavaultofafunerealblack，relievedbyfrescoes，eitherwhiteorofthecolourofashes.Theyrepresent，thesefrescoes，awholenewregisterofgodsanddemons，someslimandsheathednarrowlylikemummies，otherswithbigheadsandbigbellieslikehippopotami.Placedonthegroundandwatchedfromabovebyallthesefiguresisanenormoussarcophagusofstone，wideopen;andinitwecandistinguishvaguelytheoutlineofahumanbody：thePharaoh！
　　Atleastweshouldhavelikedtoseehimbetter.Thenecessarylightisforthcomingatonce：theBedouinGrandMasterofCeremoniestouchesanelectricbuttonandapowerfullampilluminesthefaceofAmenophis，detailingwithaclearnessthatalmostfrightensyoutheclosedeyes，thegrimacingcountenance，andthewholeofthesadmummy.Thistheatricaleffecttookusbysurprise;wewerenotpreparedforit.
　　Hewasburiedinmagnificence，butthepillagershavestrippedhimofeverything，evenofhisbeautifulbreastplateoftortoiseshell，whichcametohimfromafar—offOrientalcountry，andformanycenturiesnowhehasslepthalfnakedonhisrags.Buthispoorbouquetistherestill——ofmimosa，recognisableevennow，andwhowillevertellwhatpiousorperhapsamoroushanditwasthatgatheredtheseflowersforhimmorethanthreethousandyearsago.
　　Theheatissuffocating.Thewholecrushingmassofthismountain，ofthisblockoflimestone，intowhichwehavecrawledthroughrelativelyimperceptibleholes，likewhiteantsorlarvae，seemstoweighuponourchest.Andthesefigurestoo，inscribedoneveryside，andthismysteryofthehieroglyphsandthesymbols，causeagrowinguneasiness.Youaretoonearthem，theyseemtoomuchthemastersoftheexits，thesegodswiththeirheadsoffalcon，ibisandjackal，who，onthewalls，converseinacontinualexaltedpantomime.Andthenthefeelingcomesoveryou，thatyouareguiltyofsacrilegestandingthere，beforethisopencoffin，inthisunwontedinsolentlight.Thedolorous，blackishface，halfeatenaway，seemstoaskformercy：
　　"Yes，yes，mysepulchrehasbeenviolatedandIamreturningtodust.
　　Butnowthatyouhaveseenme，leaveme，turnoutthatlight，havepityonmynothingness."
　　Insooth，whatamockery！Tohavetakensomanypains，tohaveadoptedsomanystratagemstohidehiscorpse;tohaveexhaustedthousandsofmeninthehewingofthisundergroundlabyrinth，andtoendthus，withhisheadintheglareofanelectriclamp，toamusewhoeverpasses.
　　Andoutofpity——Ithinkitwasthepoorbouquetofmimosathatawakenedit——IsaytotheBedouin："Yes，putoutthelight，putitout——thatisenough."
　　Andthenthedarknessreturnsabovetheroyalcountenance，whichissuddenlyeffacedinthesarcophagus.ThephantomofthePharaohisvanished，asifreplungedintotheunfathomablepast.Theaudienceisover.
　　Andwe，whoareabletoescapefromthehorrorofthehypogeum，reascendrapidlytowardsthesunshineoftheliving，wegotobreathetheairagain，theairtowhichwehavestillaright——forsomefewdayslonger.
　　CHAPTERXVIII
　　ATTHEBESINTHETEMPLEOFTHEOGRESS
　　Thisevening，inthevastchaosofruins——atthehourinwhichthelightofthesunbeginstoturntorose——Imakemywayalongoneofthemagnificentroadsofthetown—mummy，that，infact，whichgoesoffatarightangletothelineofthetemplesofAmen，and，losingitselfmoreorlessinthesands，leadsatlengthtoasacredlakeontheborderofwhichcertaincat—headedgoddessesareseatedinstatewatchingthedeadwaterandtheexpanseofthedesert.ThisparticularroadwasbegunthreethousandfourhundredyearsagobyabeautifulqueencalledMakeri，[*]andinthefollowingcenturiesanumberofkingscontinueditsconstruction.Itwasornamentedwithpylonsofasuperbmassiveness——pylonsaremonumentalwalls，intheformofatrapeziumwithawidebase，coveredentirelywithhieroglyphs，whichtheEgyptiansusedtoplaceateithersideoftheirporticoesandlongavenues——aswellasbycolossalstatuesandinterminablerowsoframs，largerthanbuffaloes，crouchedonpedestals.
　　[*]To—daythemummywiththebabyinthemuseumatCairo.
　　AtthefirstpylonsIhavetomakeadetour.Theyaresoruinousthattheirblocks，fallendownonallsides，haveclosedthepassage.Hereusedtowatch，onrightandleft，twouprightgiantsofredgranitefromSyene.Longagointimesnolongerpreciselyknown，theywerebrokenoff，bothofthem，attheheightoftheloins.Buttheirmuscularlegshavekepttheirproud，marchingattitude，andeachinoneofthearmlesshands，whichreachtotheendofthecloththatgirdstheirloins，clenchespassionatelytheemblemofeternallife.
　　AndthisSyenitegraniteissohardthattimehasnotaltereditintheleast;inthemidstoftheconfusionofstonesthethighsofthesemutilatedgiantsgleamasiftheyhadbeenpolishedyesterday.
　　Fartheronwecomeuponthesecondpylons，founderedalso，beforewhichstandsarowofPharaohs.
　　Oneverysidetheoverthrownblocksdisplaytheirutterconfusionofgiganticthingsinthemidstofthesandwhichcontinuespatientlytoburythem.Andherenowarethethirdpylons，flankedbytheirtwomarchinggiants，whohaveneitherheadnorshoulders.Andtheroad，markedmajesticallystillbythedebris，continuestoleadtowardsthedesert.
　　Andthenthefourthandlastpylons，whichseematfirstsighttomarktheextremityoftheruins，thebeginningofthedesertnothingness.
　　Time—wornanduncrowned，butstiffanduprightstill，theyseemtobesettheresosolidlythatnothingcouldeveroverthrowthem.Thetwocolossalstatueswhichguardthemontherightandleftareseatedonthrones.One，thatontheeasternside，hasalmostdisappeared.Buttheotherstandsoutentireandwhite，withthewhitenessofmarble，againstthebrown—colouredbackgroundoftheenormousstretchofwallcoveredwithhieroglyphs.Hisfacealonehasbeenmutilated;andhepreservesstillhisimperiouschin，hisears，hisSphinx’sheadgear，onemightalmostsayhismeditativeexpression，beforethisdeploymentofthevastsolitudewhichseemstobeginathisveryfeet.
　　HerehoweverwasonlytheboundaryofthequartersoftheGodAmen.
　　TheboundaryofThebeswasmuchfartheron，andtheavenuewhichwillleadmedirectlytothehomeofthecat—headedgoddessesextendsfartherstilltotheoldgatesofthetown;albeityoucanscarcelydistinguishitbetweenthedoublerowofKrio—sphinxesallbrokenandwell—nighburied.
　　Thedayfalls，andthedustofEgypt，inaccordancewithitsinvariablepracticeeveryevening，beginstoresembleinthedistanceapowderofgold.Ilookbehindmefromtimetotimeatthegiantwhowatchesme，seatedatthefootofhispylononwhichthehistoryofaPharaohiscarvedinoneimmensepicture.Abovehimandabovehiswall，whichgrowseachminutemorerose—coloured，Isee，graduallymountinginproportionasImoveawayfromit，thegreatmassofthepalacesofthecentre，thehypostylehall，thehallsofThothmesandtheobelisks，alltheentangledclusterofthosethingsatoncesograndandsodead，whichhaveneverbeenequalledonearth.
　　AndasIcontinuetogazeupontheruins，resplendentnowintherosyapotheosisoftheevening，theycometolooklikethecrumblingremainsofagiganticskeleton.Theyseemtobebeggingforamercifulsurcease，asiftheyweretiredofthisendlessgalacolouringateachsettingofthesun，whichmocksthemwithitseternity.
　　Allthisisnowalongwaybehindme;buttheairissolimpid，theoutlinesremainsoclearthattheillusionisratherthatthetemplesandthepylonsgrowsmaller，lowerthemselvesandsinkintotheearth.
　　Thewhitegiantwhofollowsmealwayswithhissightlessstareisnowreducedtotheproportionsofasimplehumandreamer.HisattitudemoreoverhasnottherigidhieraticaspectoftheotherThebanstatues.Withhishandsuponhiskneeshelookslikeamereordinarymortalwhohadstoppedtoreflect.[*]Ihaveknownhimformanydays——
　　formanydaysandmanynights，for，whatwithhiswhitenessandthetransparencyoftheseEgyptiannights，Ihaveseenhimoftenoutlinedinthedistanceunderthedimlightofthestars——agreatphantominhiscontemplativepose.AndIfeelmyselfobsessednowbythecontinuanceofhisattitudeatthisentranceoftheruins——IwhoshallpasswithoutamorrowfromThebesandevenfromtheearth——evenasweallpass.Beforeconsciouslifewasvouchsafedtomehewasthere，hadbeentheresincetimeswhichmakeyoushuddertothinkupon.Forthreeandthirtycenturies，orthereabouts，theeyesofmyriadsofunknownmenandwomen，whohavegonebeforeme，sawhimjustasIseehimnow，tranquilandwhite，inthissameplace，seatedbeforethissamethreshold，withhisheadalittlebent，andhispervadingairofthought.
　　[*]StatueofAmenophisIII.
　　Imakemywaywithouthastening，havingalwaysatendencytostopandlookbehindme，towatchthesilentheapofpalacesandthewhitedreamer，whichnowareallilluminedwithalastBengalfireinthedailysettingofthesun.
　　AndthehourisalreadytwilightwhenIreachthegoddesses.
　　Theirdomainissodestroyedthatthesandshadsucceededincoveringandhidingitforcenturies.Butithaslatelybeenexhumed.
　　Thereremainofitnowonlysomefragmentsofcolumns，alignedinmultiplerowsinavastextentofdesert.Brokenandfallenstonesanddebris.[*]Iwalkonwithoutstopping，andatlengthreachthesacredlakeonthemarginofwhichthegreatcatsareseatedineternalcouncil，eachoneonherthrone.Thelake，dugbyorderofthePharaohs，isintheformofanarc，likeakindofcrescent.Somemarshbirds，thatareabouttoretireforthenight，nowtraverseitsmournful，sleepingwater.Itsborders，whichhaveknowntheutmostofmagnificence，arebecomemereheapsofruinsonwhichnothinggrows.
　　Andwhatoneseesbeyond，whattheattentivegoddessesthemselvesregard，istheemptydesolateplain，onwhichsomefewpoorfieldsofcornmingleinthistwilighthourwiththesadinfinitudeofthesands.Andthewholeisboundedonthehorizonbythechain，stillalittlerose—coloured，ofthelimestonesofArabia.
　　[*]ThetempleoftheGoddessMut.
　　Theyarethere，thecats，or，tospeakmoreexactly，thelionesses，forcatswouldnothavethoseshortears，orthosecruelchins，thickenedbytuftsofbeard.Allofblackgranite，imagesofSekhet（whowastheGoddessofWar，andinherhourstheGoddessofLust），theyhavetheslenderbodyofawoman，whichmakesmoreterriblethegreatfelineheadsurmountedbyitshighbonnet.Eightorten，orperhapsmore，theyaremoredisquietinginthattheyaresonumerousandsoalike.Theyarenotgigantic，asonemighthaveexpected，butofordinaryhumanstature——easythereforetocarryaway，ortodestroy，andthatagain，ifonereflects，augmentsthesingularimpressiontheycause.Whensomanycolossalfigureslieinpiecesontheground，howcomesitthatthey，littlepeopleseatedsotranquillyontheirchairs，havecontrivedtoremainintact，duringthepassingofthethreeandthirtycenturiesoftheworld’shistory？
　　Thepassageofthemarchbirds，whichforamomentdisturbedtheclearmirrorofthelake，hasceased.Aroundthegoddessesnothingmovesandthecustomaryinfinitesilenceenvelopsthemasatthefallofeverynight.Theydwellindeedinsuchaforlorncorneroftheruins！Who，tobesure，eveninbroaddaylight，wouldthinkofvisitingthem？
　　Downthereinthewestatrailingcloudofdustindicatesthedepartureofthetourists，whohadflockedtothetempleofAmen，andnowhastenbacktoLuxor，todineatthevarious/tablesd’hote/.Thegroundhereissofeltedwithsandthatinthedistancewecannotheartherollingoftheircarriages.Buttheknowledgethattheyaregonerendersmoreintimatetheinterviewwiththesenumerousandidenticalgoddesses，wholittlebylittlehavebeendrapedinshadow.TheirseatsturntheirbackstothepalacesofThebes，whichnowbegintobebathedinvioletwavesandseemtosinktowardsthehorizon，toloseeachminutesomethingoftheirimportancebeforethesovereigntyofthenight.
　　Andtheblackgoddesses，withtheirlioness’headsandtallheadgear——
　　seatedtherewiththeirhandsupontheirknees，witheyesfixedsincethebeginningoftheages，andadisturbingsmileontheirthicklips，likethoseofawildbeast——continuetoregard——beyondthelittledeadlake——thatdesert，whichnowisonlyaconfusedimmensity，ofabluishashy—grey.Andthefancyseizesyouthattheyarepossessedofakindoflife，whichhascometothemafterlongwaiting，byvirtueofthat/expression/whichtheyhavewornontheirfacessolong，oh！solong.
　　*****
　　Beyond，attheotherextremityoftheruins，thereisasisterofthesegoddesses，tallerthanthey，agreatSekhet，whominthesepartsmencalltheOgress，andwhodwellsaloneandupright，ambushedinanarrowtemple.AmongstthefellahsandtheBedouinsoftheneighbourhoodsheenjoysaverybadreputation，itbeinghercustomofnightstoissuefromhertemple，anddevourmen;andnoneofthemwouldwillinglyventurenearherdwellingatthislatehour.ButinsteadofreturningtoLuxor，likethegoodpeoplewhosecarriageshavejustdeparted，Iratherchoosetopayheravisit.
　　Herdwellingissomedistanceaway，andIshallnotreachittillthedeadofnight.
　　FirstofallIhavetoretracemysteps，toreturnalongthewholeavenueoframs，topassagainbythefeetofthewhitegiant，whohasalreadyassumedhisphantomlikeappearance，whilethevioletwavesthatbathedthetown—mummythickenandturntoagreyish—blue.Andthen，leavingbehindmethepylonsguardedbythebrokengiants，I
　　threadmywayamongthepalacesofthecentre.
　　ItisamongthesepalacesthatIencounterforgoodandallthenight，withthefirstcriesoftheowlsandospreys.Itisstillwarmthere，onaccountoftheheatstoredbythestonesduringtheday，butonefeelsneverthelessthattheairisfreezing.
　　Atacrossingatallhumanfigureloomsup，drapedinblackandarmedwithabaton.ItisarovingBedouin，oneoftheguards，andthismoreorlessisthedialogueexchangedbetweenus（freelyandsuccinctlytranslated）：
　　"Yourpermit，sir."
　　"Hereitis."
　　（Herewecombineoureffortstoilluminatethesaidpermitbythelightofamatch.）
　　"Good，Iwillgowithyou."
　　"No.Ibegofyou."
　　"Yes;Ihadbetter.Whereareyougoing？"
　　"Beyond，tothetempleofthatlady——youknow，whoisgreatandpowerfulandhasafacelikealioness."
　　"Ah！Yes，IthinkIunderstandthatyouwouldprefertogoalone."（Heretheintonationbecomesinfantine.）"ButyouareakindgentlemanandwillnotforgetthepoorBedouinallthesame."
　　Hegoesonhisway.OnleavingthepalacesIhavestilltotraverseanextentofuncultivatedcountry，whereaveritablecoldseizesme.
　　Abovemyheadnolongertheheavysuspendedstones，butthefar—offexpanseofthebluenightsky——whereareshiningnowmyriadsuponmyriadsofstars.FortheThebansofoldthisbeautifulvault，scintillatingalwayswithitspowderofdiamonds，shednodoubtonlyserenityupontheirsouls.Butforus，/whoknows，alas！/itisonthecontrarythefieldofthegreatfear，which，outofpity，itwouldhavebeenbetterifwehadneverbeenabletosee;theincommensurableblackvoid，wheretheworldsintheirfrenziedwhirlingprecipitatethemselveslikerain，crashintoandannihilateoneanother，onlytoberenewedforfresheternities.
　　Allthisisseentoovividly，thehorrorofitbecomesintolerable，onaclearnightlikethis，inaplacesosilentandlitteredsowithruins.Moreandmorethecoldpenetratesyou——themournfulcoldofthesiderealspheresfromwhichnothingnowseemstoprotectyou，sorarefied——almostnon—existent——doesthelimpidatmosphereappear.Andthegravel，thepoordriedherbs，thatcrackleunderfoot，givetheillusionofthecrunchingnoiseweknowathomeonwinternightswhenthefrostisontheground.
　　IapproachatlengththetempleoftheOgress.Thesestoneswhichnowappear，whitishinthenight，thissecret—lookingdwellingneartheboundarywallofThebes，proclaimthespot，andverilyatsuchanhourasthisithasanevilaspect.Ptolemaiccolumns，littlevestibules，littlecourtyardswhereadimbluelightenablesyoutofindyourway.
　　Nothingmoves;noteventheflightofanightbird：anabsolutesilence，magnifiedawfullybythepresenceofthedesertwhichyoufeelencompassesyoubeyondthesewalls.Andbeyond，atthebottom，threechambersmadeofmassivestone，eachwithitsseparateentrance.
　　Iknowthatthefirsttwoareempty.ItisinthethirdthattheOgressdwells，unless，indeed，shehasalreadysetoutuponhernocturnalhuntforhumanflesh.PitchdarknessreignswithinandI
　　havetogropemyway.QuicklyIlightamatch.Yes，theresheisindeed，aloneandupright，almostpartoftheendwall，onwhichmylittlelightmakesthehorribleshadowofherheaddance.Thematchgoesout——irreverentlyIlightmanymoreunderherchin，underthatheavy，man—eatingjaw.Inverysooth，sheisterrifying.Ofblackgranite——likehersisters，seatedonthemarginofthemournfullake——
　　butmuchtallerthanthey，fromsixtoeightfeetinheight，shehasawoman’sbody，exquisitelyslimandyoung，withthebreastsofavirgin.Verychasteinattitude，sheholdsinherhandalong—stemmedlotusflower，butbyacontrastthatnonplussesandparalysesyouthedelicateshoulderssupportthemonstrosityofahugelioness’head.
　　Thelappetsofherbonnetfalloneithersideofherearsalmostdowntoherbreast，andsurmountingthebonnet，bywayofadditiontothemysteriouspomp，isalargemoondisc.Herdeadstaregivestotheferocityofhervisagesomethingunreasoningandfatal;anirresponsibleogress，withoutpityaswithoutpleasure，devouringafterthemannerofNatureandofTime.AnditwassoperhapsthatshewasunderstoodbytheinitiatedofancientEgypt，whosymbolisedeverythingforthepeopleinthefiguresofgods.
　　Inthedarkretreat，enclosedwithdefacedstones，inthelittletemplewhereshestands，alone，uprightandgrand，withherenormousheadandthrust—outchinandtallgoddess’headdress——oneisnecessarilyquiteclosetoher.Intouchingher，atnight，youareastonishedtofindthatsheislesscoldthantheair;shebecomessomebody，andtheintolerabledeadstareseemstoweighyoudown.
　　Duringthe/tete—a—tete/，onethinksinvoluntarilyofthesurroundings，oftheseruinsinthedesert，oftheprevailingnothingness，ofthecoldbeneaththestars.And，now，thatsummationofdoubtanddespairandterror，whichsuchanassemblageofthingsinspiresinyou，isconfirmed，ifonemaysayso，bythemeetingwiththisdivinity—symbol，whichawaitsyouattheendofthejourney，toreceiveironicallyallhumanprayer;arigidhorrorofgranite，withanimplacablesmileandadevouringjaw.
　　CHAPTERXIX
　　ATOWNPROMPTLYEMBELLISHED
　　Eightyearsandalineofrailwayhavesufficedtoaccomplishitsmetamorphosis.OnceinUpperEgypt，onthebordersofNubia，therewasalittlehumbletown，rarelyvisited，andwanting，itmustbeowned，ineleganceandevenincomfort.
　　Notthatitwaswithoutpicturesquenessandhistoricalinterest.Quitethecontrary.TheNile，chargedwiththewatersofequatorialAfrica，flungitselfclosebyfromtheheightofamassofblackgranite，inamajesticcataract;andthen，beforethelittleArabhouses，becamesuddenlycalmagain，andflowedbetweenisletsoffreshverdurewhereclustersofpalm—treesswayedtheirplumesinthewind.
　　Andaroundwereanumberoftemples，ofhypogea，ofRomanruins，ofruinsofchurchesdatingfromthefirstcenturiesofChristianity.Thegroundwasfullofsouvenirsofthegreatprimitivecivilisations.Fortheplace，abandonedforagesandlulledinthefoldsofIslamundertheguardianshipofitswhitemosque，wasonceoneofthecentresofthelifeoftheworld.
　　And，moreover，intheadjoiningdesert，somethreeorfourthousandyearsago，theancienthistoryoftheworldhadbeenwrittenbythePharaohsinimmortalhieroglyphics——well—nigheverywhere，onthepolishedsidesofthestrangeblocksofblueandredgranitethatliescatteredaboutthesandsandlooknowliketheformsofantediluvianmonsters.
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　　Yes，butitwasnecessarythatallthisshouldbeco—ordinated，focusedasitwere，andaboveallrenderedaccessibletothedelicatetravellersoftheAgencies.Andto—daywehavethepleasureofannouncingthat，fromDecembertoMarch，Assouan（forthatisthenameofthefortunatelocality）hasa"season"asfashionableasthoseofOstendorSpa.
　　Inapproachingit，thehugehotelserectedonallsides——evenontheisletsoftheoldriver——charmtheeyeofthetraveller，greetinghimwiththeirwelcomingsigns，whichcanbeseenaleagueaway.True，theyhavebeensomewhathastilyconstructed，ofmudandplaster，buttheyrecallnonethelessthosegraciouspalaceswithwhichtheCompagniedesWagon—Litshasdoweredtheworld.Andhownegligiblenow，howdwarfedbytheheightoftheirfacades，isthepoorlittletownofoldentimes，withitslittlehouses，whitenedwithchalk，anditsbabyminaret.
　　Thecataract，ontheotherhand，hasdisappearedfromAssouan.ThetutelaryAlbionwiselyconsideredthatitwouldbebettertosacrificethatfutilespectacleand，inordertoincreasetheyieldofthesoil，todamthewatersoftheNilebyanartificialbarrage：aworkofsolidmasonrywhich（inthewordsoftheProgrammeofPleasureTrips）
　　"affordsaninterestofaverydifferentnatureanddegree"（sic）.
　　ButneverthelessCook&Son——abusinessconcernglossedwithpoetry，asalltheworldknows——haveendeavouredtoperpetuatethememoryofthecataractbygivingitsnametoahotelof500rooms，whichasaresultoftheirlabourshasbeenestablishedoppositetothoserocks——
　　nowreducedtosilence——overwhichtheoldNileusedtoseetheforsomanycenturies."CataractHotel！"——thatgivestheillusionstill，doesitnot？——andlooksremarkablywellattheheadofasheetofnotepaper.
　　Cook&Son（EgyptLtd.）haveevengonesofarastoconceivetheideathatitwouldbeoriginaltogivetotheirestablishmentacertain/cachet/ofIslam.Andthedining—roomreproduces（inimitation，ofcourse——butthenyoumustnotexpecttheimpossible）theinteriorofoneofthemosquesofStamboul.Attheluncheonhouritisoneoftheprettiestsightsintheworldtosee，underthisimitationholycupola，allthelittletablescrowdedwithCook’stouristsofbothsexes，thewhileaconcealedorchestrastrikesupthe"Mattchiche."
　　Thedam，itistrue，insuppressingthecataracthasraisedsomethirtyfeetorsothelevelofthewaterupstream，andbysodoinghassubmergedacertainIsleofPhilae，whichpassed，absurdlyenough，foroneofthemarvelsoftheworldbyreasonofitsgreattempleofIsis，surroundedbypalm—trees.Butbetweenourselves，onemaysaythatthebeautifulgoddesswasalittleold—fashionedforourtimes.Sheandhermysterieshadhadtheirday.Besides，ifthereshouldbeanychagrinedsoulwhomightregretthedisappearanceoftheisland，carehasbeentakentoperpetuatethememoryofit，inthesamewayasthatofthecataract.Charmingcolouredpostcards，takenbeforethesubmergingoftheislandandthesanctuary，areonsaleinallthebookshopsalongthequay.
　　Oh！thisquayofAssouan，alreadysoBritishinitsorderliness，itsmethod！Nothingbettercaredfor，nothingmorealtogethercharmingcouldbeconceived.Firstofallthereistherailway，which，passingbetweenbalustradespaintedagrass—green，givesoutitsfascinatingnoiseandjoyoussmoke.Ononesideisarowofhotelsandshops，allEuropeanincharacter——hairdressers，perfumers，andnumerousdarkroomsfortheuseofthemanyamateurphotographers，whomakeapointoftakingawaywiththemphotographsoftheirtravellingcompanionsgroupedtastefullybeforesomecelebratedhypogeum.
　　Andthennumerouscafes，wherethewhiskyisofexcellentquality.
　　And，Ioughttoadd，injusticetotheresultofthe/EntenteCordiale/，youmayseethere，too，alignedinconsiderablequantitiesontheshelves，theproductsofthosegreatFrenchphilanthropists，towhomindeedourgenerationdoesnotrendersufficienthomageforallthegoodtheyhavedonetoitsstomachanditshead.ThereaderwillguessthatIhavenamedPernod，PiconandCusenier.
　　ItmaybeindeedthatthehonestfellahsandNubiansoftheneighbourhood，sosoberalittlewhileago，areapttoabusethesetonicsalittle.Butthatistheeffectofnovelty，andwillpass.Andanyhow，amongstusEuropeans，thereisnoneedtoconcealthefact——
　　forwedonotallmakeuseofitinvoluntarily？——thatalcoholismisapowerfulauxiliaryinthepropagationofourideas，andthatthedealerinwinesandspiritsconstitutesavaluablevanguardpioneerforourWesterncivilisation.Races，insensiblydepressedbytheabuseofour"appetisers，"becomemoresupple，moreeasytoleadinthetruepathofprogressandliberty.
　　OnthisquayofAssouan，socarefullylevelled，defilesbrisklyacontinualstreamoffairtravellersravishinglydressedasonlythoseknowhowwhohavemadeatourwithCook&Son（EgyptLtd.）.AndalongtheNile，intheshadeoftheyoungtrees，plantedwiththeutmostnicetyandprecision，theflower—bedsandstraight—cutturfareprotectedefficaciouslybymeansofwire—nettingagainstcertainactsofforgetfulnesstowhichdogs，alas，areonlytoomuchaddicted.
　　Here，too，everythingisticketed，everythinghasitsnumber：thedonkeys，thedonkey—drivers，thestationsevenwheretheyareallowedtostand——"Standforsixdonkeys，standforten，etc."Someveryhandsomecamels，fittedwithridingsaddles，waitalsointheirrespectiveplacesandanumberofCookladies，meticulousonthepointoflocalcolour，evenwhenitismerelyaquestionofmakingsomepurchasesinthetown，readilymountforsomemomentsoneorotherofthese"shipsofthedesert."
　　Andateveryfiftyyardsapoliceman，stillEgyptianinhiscountenance，butquiteEnglishinhisbearingandcostume，keepsavigilanteyeoneverything——wouldneversuffer，forexample，thataneleventhdonkeyshoulddaretotakeaplaceinastandforten，whichwasalreadyfull.
　　Certainpeople，inclinedtobecritical，mightconsider，perhaps，thatthesepolicemenwerealittletooreadytochidetheirfellow—
　　countrymen;whereasonthecontrarytheyshowedthemselvesveryrespectfulandobligingwhenevertheywereaddressedbyatravelerinacorkhelmet.Butthatisinvirtueofanequitableandlogicalprinciple，derivedbythemfromthehighplacesofthenewadministration——namely，thattheEgyptofto—daybelongsfarlesstotheEgyptiansthantothenobleforeignerswhohavecometobrandishtherethetorchofcivilisation.
　　Intheevening，afterdark，thereallyrespectabletravellersdonotquitthebrilliantdiningsaloonsofthehotels，andthequayisleftquitesolitarybeneaththestars.Itisatsuchatimethatoneisabletorealisehowextremelyhospitablecertainofthenativesarebecome.If，inanhourofmelancholy，youwalkaloneonthebankoftheNile，smokingacigarette，youwillnotfailtobeaccostedbyoneofthesegoodpeople，whomisunderstandingthecauseoftheunrestinyoursoul，offerseagerly，andwithatouchingfrankness，tointroduceyoutothegayestoftheyoungladiesofthecountry.
　　Intheothertowns，whichstillremainpurelyEgyptian，thepeoplewouldneverpractisesuchanexcessofaffabilityandgoodmanners，whichhavebeenlearnt，beyondallquestionfromourbeneficentcontact.
　　AssouanpossessesalsoitslittleOrientalbazaar——alittleimprovised，alittlenewperhaps;butthenone，atleast，wasneeded，andthatasquicklyaspossible，inorderthatnothingmightbewantingtothetourists.
　　Theshopkeepershavecontrivedtoprovisionthemselves（intheleadingshops，underthearcadesoftheRuedeRivoli）withasmuchtactasgoodtaste，andtheCookladieshavetheinnocentillusionofmakingbargainseveryday.Onemayevenbuythere，hungupbythetail，stuffedwithstrawandlookingextremelyreal，thelastcrocodilesofEgypt，which，particularlyattheendoftheseason，maybehadatveryadvantageousprices.
　　EventheoldNilehasalloweditselftobefrettedandbroughtuptodateintheprogressofevolution.
　　First，thewomen，drapedinblackveils，whocomedailytodrawthepreciouswater，haveforsakenthefragileamphoraeofbakedearth，whichhadcometothemfrombarbaroustimes——andwhichtheOrientalistsgrosslyabusedintheirpicture;andintheirsteadhavetakentooldtinoil—cans，placedattheirdisposalbythekindnessofthebighotels.Buttheycarrytheminthesameeasygracefulmanneraserstwhilethediscardedpottery，andwithoutlosingintheleastthegracioustanagrineoutline.
　　AndthentherearethegreattouristboatsoftheAgencies，whicharehereinabundance，forAssouanhastheprivilegeofbeingtheterminusoftheline;andtheirwhistlings，theirrevolvingmotors，theirelectricdynamosmaintainfrommorningtillnightacaptivatingsymphony.ItmightbeurgedperhapsagainstthesestructuresthattheyresemblealittlethewashhousesontheSeine;buttheAgencies，desirousofrestoringtothemacertainlocalcolour，havegiventhemnamessonotoriouslyEgyptianthatoneisreducedtosilence.TheyarecalledSesostris，AmenophisorRamsestheGreat.
　　Andfinallytherearetherowingboats，whichcarrypassengersincessantlybackwardsandforwardsbetweentheriver—banks.Solongastheseasonremainsatitsheighttheyarebedeckedwithanumberoflittleflagsofredcotton—cloth，orevenofsimplepaper.Therowers，moreover，havebeeninstructedtosingallthetimethenativesongswhichareaccompaniedbyaderbouccaplayerseatedintheprow.Nay，theyhaveevenlearnttoutterthatrousing，stimulatingcrywhichAnglo—Saxonsusetoexpresstheirenthusiasmortheirjoy："Hip！Hip！
　　Hurrah！"andyoucannotconceivehowwellitsounds，comingbetweentheArabsongs，whichotherwisemightbeapttogrowmonotonous.
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　　ButthetriumphofAssouanisitsdesert.Itbeginsatoncewithouttransitionassoonasyoupasstheclose—croppedturfofthelastsquare.Adesertwhich，exceptfortherailroadandthetelegraphpoles，hasallthecharmoftherealthing：thesand，thechaosofoverthrownstones，theemptyhorizons——everything，inshort，savetheimmensityandinfinitesolitude，thehorror，inawordwhichformerlymadeitsolittledesirable.Itisalittleastonishing，itmustbeowned，tofind，onarrivingthere，thattherockshavebeencarefullynumberedinwhitepaint，andinsomecasesmarkedwithalargecross"whichcatchestheeyefromagreaterdistancestill"（sic）.ButI
　　agreethattheeffectofthewholehaslostnothing.
　　Inthemorningbeforethesungetstoohot，betweenbreakfastandluncheontobeprecise，allthegoodladiesincorkhelmetsandbluespectacles（dark—colouredspectaclesarerecommendedonaccountoftheglare）spreadthemselvesoverthesesolitudes，domesticatedasitweretotheiruse，withasmuchsecurityasinTrafalgarSquareorKensingtonGardens.Notseldomevenyoumayseeoneofthemmakingherwayalone，bookinhand，towardsoneofthepicturesquerocks——No.
　　363，forexample，orNo.364，ifyoulikeitbetter——whichseemstobemakingsignstoherwithitswhiteticket，inamannerwhich，totheuninitiatedobserver，mightseemevenalittleimproper.
　　Butwhatasenseofsafetyfamiliesmayfeelhere，tobesure！Inspiteofthehugenumbers，whichatfirstsightlookalittleequivocal，nothingintheleastdegreereprehensiblecanhappenamongthesegranites;whichare，moreover，inasinglepiece，withouttheleastcrackorholeintowhichthestragglercouldcontrivetocrawl.
　　No.Thefiguresandthecrossesdenotesimpleblocksofstones，coveredwithhieroglyphics，andcorrespondtoachastecataloguewhereeachPharaonicinscriptionmaybefoundtranslatedinthemostbecominglanguage.
　　ThisingeniousticketingofthestonesofthedesertisduetotheinitiativeofanEnglishEgyptologist.
　　CHAPTERXX
　　THEPASSINGOFPHILAE
　　LeavingAssouan——assoonaswehavepassedthelasthouse——wecomeatonceuponthedesert.Andnowthenightisfalling，acoldFebruarynight，underastrange，copper—colouredsky.
　　Incontestablyitisthedesert，withitschaosofgraniteandsand，itswarmtonesandreddishcolour.Buttherearetelegraphpolesandthelinesofarailroad，whichtraverseitincompany，anddisappearintheemptyhorizon.Andthentoohowparadoxicalandridiculousitseemstobetravellinghereonfullsecurityandinacarriage！（Themostcommonplaceofhackney—carriages，whichIhiredbythehouronthequayofAssouan.）Adesertindeedwhichpreservesstillitsaspectsofreality，buthasbecomedomesticatedandtamedfortheuseofthetouristsandtheladies.
　　First，immensecemeteriessurroundedbysandatthebeginningofthesequasi—solitudes.Sucholdcemeteriesofeveryepochofhistory.ThethousandlittlecupolasofsaintsofIslamarecrumblingsidebysidewiththeChristianobelisksofthefirstcenturies;and，underneath，thePharaonichypogea.Inthetwilight，alltheseruinsofthedead，allthescatteredblocksofgranitearemingledinmournfulgroupings，outlinedinfantasticsilhouetteagainstthepalecopperofthesky;
　　brokenarches，tilteddomes，androcksthatriseupliketallphantoms.
　　Fartheron，whenwehaveleftbehindthisregionoftombs，thegranitesalonelittertheexpanseofsand，granitestowhichtheusuryofcenturieshasgiventheformofhugeroundbeasts.Inplacestheyhavebeenthrownoneupontheotherandmakegreatheapsofmonsters.
　　Elsewheretheyliealoneamongthesands，asiflostinthemidstoftheinfinitudeofsomedeadsea—shore.Therailsandthetelegraphpoleshavedisappeared;bythemagicoftwilighteverythingisbecomegrandagain，beneathoneofthoseeveningskiesofEgyptwhich，inwinter，resemblecoldcupolasofmetal.AndnowitisthatyoufeelyourselfverilyonthethresholdoftheprofounddesolationsofArabia，fromwhichnobarrier，afterallseparatesyou.Wereitnotforthelackofverisimilitudeinthecarriagethathasbroughtushither，weshouldbeablenowtotakethisdesertquiteseriously——forinfactithasnolimits.
　　Aftertravellingforaboutthree—quartersofanhour，weseeinthedistanceanumberoflights，whichhavealreadybeenkindledinthegrowingdarkness.TheyseemtoobrighttobethoseofanArabencampment.Andourdriverturningroundandpointingtothemsays：
　　"Chelal！"
　　Chelal——thatisthenameoftheArabvillage，ontheriverside，whereyoutaketheboatforPhilae.Toourdisgusttheplaceislightedbyelectricity.Itconsistsofastation，afactorywithalongsmokingchimney，andadozenorsosuspicious—lookingtaverns，reekingofalcohol，withoutwhich，itwouldseem，ourEuropeancivilisationcouldnotimplantitselfinanewcountry.
　　AndhereweembarkforPhilae.Anumberofboatsareready：forthetouristsalluredbymanyadvertisementsflockhithereverywinterindocileherds.Alltheboats，withoutasingleexception，areprofuselydecoratedwithlittleEnglishflags，asifforsomeregattaontheThames.Thereisnoescapethereforefromthisbeflaggingofaforeignholiday——andwesetoutwithahomesicksongofNubia，whichtheboatmensingtothecadenceoftheoars.
　　Thecopper—colouredheavenremainssoimpregnatedwithcoldlightthatwestillseeclearly.Weareamidmagnificenttragicsceneryonalakesurroundedbyakindoffearfulamphitheatreoutlinedonallsidesbythemountainsofthedesert.ItwasatthebottomofthisgranitecircusthattheNileusedtoflow，formingfreshislets，onwhichtheeternalverdureofthepalm—treescontrastedwiththehighdesolatemountainsthatsurroundeditlikeawall.To—day，onaccountofthebarrageestablishedbytheEnglish，thewaterhassteadilyrisen，likeatidethatwillneverrecede;andthislake，almostalittlesea，replacesthemeanderingsoftheriverandhassucceededinsubmergingthesacredislets.ThesanctuaryofIsis——whichwasenthronedforthousandsofyearsonthesummitofahill，crowdedwithtemplesandcolonnadesandstatues——stillhalfemerges;butitisaloneandwillsoongothewayoftheothers，Thereitis，beyond，likeagreatrock，atthishourinwhichthenightbeginstoobscureeverything.
　　NowherebutinUpperEgypthavethewinternightsthesetransparenciesofabsoluteemptinessnorthesesinistercolourings.Asthelightgraduallyfails，theskypassesfromcoppertobronze，butremainsalwaysmetallic.Thezenithbecomesbrownishlikeabrazenshield，whilethesettingsunaloneretainsitsyellowcolour，growingslowlypalertillitisalmostofthewhitenessoflatten;and，above，themountainsofthedesertedgetheirsharpoutlineswithatintofburntsienna.To—nightafreezingwindblowsfiercelyinourfaces.Tothecontinualchantoftherowerswepassslowlyovertheartificiallake，whichisupheldasitwereintheairbytheEnglishmasonry，invisiblenowinthedistance，butdivinedneverthelessandrevolting.
　　Asacrilegiouslakeonemightcallit，sinceithidesbeneathitstroubledwatersruinsbeyondallprice;templesofthegodsofEgypt，churchesofthefirstcenturiesofChristianity，obelisks，inscriptionsandemblems.Itisoverthesethingsthatwenowpass，whilethespraysplashesinourfaces，andthefoamofathousandangrylittlebillows.
　　Wedrawneartowhatwasoncetheholyisle.Inplacesdyingpalm—
　　trees，whoselongtrunksareto—dayunderwater，stillshowtheirmoistenedplumesandgiveanappearanceofinundation，almostofcataclysm.
　　BeforecomingtothesanctuaryofIsis，wetouchatthekioskofPhilae，whichhasbeenreproducedinthepicturesofeveryage，andisascelebratedevenastheSphinxandthepyramids.Itusedtostandonapedestalofhighrocks，andarounditthedate—treesswayedtheirbouquetsofaerialpalms.To—dayithasnolongerabase;itscolumnsriseseparatelyfromthiskindofsuspendedlake.Itlooksasifithadbeenconstructedinthewaterforthepurposeofsomeroyalnaumachy.Weenterwithourboat——astrangeportindeed，initsancientgrandeur;aportofanamelessmelancholy，particularlyatthisyellowhouroftheclosingtwilight，andundertheseicywindsthatcometousmercilesslyfromtheneighbouringdeserts.Andyethowadorableitis，thiskioskofPhilae，inthistheabandonmentthatprecedesitsdownfall！Itscolumnsplaced，asitwere，uponsomethingunstable，becometherebymoreslender，seemtoraisehigherstillthestonefoliageoftheircapitals.Averitablekioskofdreamlandnow，whichonefeelsisabouttodisappearforeverunderthesewaterswhichwillsubsidenomore！
　　Andnow，foranotherfewmoments，itgrowsquitelightagain，andtintsofawarmercopperreappearinthesky.OfteninEgyptwhenthesunhassetandyouthinkthelightisgone，thisfurtiverecolorationoftheaircomesthustosurpriseyou，beforethedarknessfinallydescends.Thereddishtintsseemtoreturntotheslendershaftsthatsurroundus，andalso，beyond，tothetempleofthegoddess，standingtherelikeasheerrockinthemiddleofthislittlesea，whichthewindcoverswithfoam.
　　Onleavingthekioskourboat——onthisdeepusurpingwater，amongthesubmergedpalm—trees——makesadetourinordertoleadustothetemplebytheroadwhichthepilgrimsofoldentimesusedtotravelonfoot——
　　bythatwaywhich，alittlewhileago，wasstillmagnificent，borderedwithcolonnadesandstatues.Butnowtheroadisentirelysubmerged，andwillneverbeseenagain.Betweenitsdoublerowofcolumnsthewaterliftsustotheheightofthecapitals，whichaloneemergeandwhichwecouldtouchwithourhands.Itseemslikesomejourneyoftheendoftime，inakindofdesertedVenice，whichisabouttotoppleover，tosinkandbeforgotten.
　　Wearriveatthetemple.Aboveourheadsrisetheenormouspylons，ornamentedwithfiguresinbas—relief：anIsiswhostretchesoutherarmsasifsheweremakingsignstous，andnumerousotherdivinitiesgesticulatingmysteriously.Thedoorwhichopensinthethicknessofthesewallsislow，besidesbeinghalfflooded，andgivesontodepthsalreadyindarkness.Werowonandenterthesanctuary，andassoonasoneboathascrossedthesacredthresholdtheboatmenstoptheirsongandsuddenlygivevoicetothenewcrythathasbeentaughtthemforthebenefitofthetourists："Hip！Hip！Hip！Hurrah！"Comingatthismoment，when，withheartoppressedbyalltheutilitarianvandalismthatsurroundsus，wewereenteringthesanctuary，whataneffectofgrossandimbecileprofanationthisbellowingofEnglishjoyproduces！
　　Theboatmenknow，moreover，thattheyhavebeendisplaced，thattheirdayhasgoneforever;perhapseven，inthedepthsoftheirNubiansouls，theyunderstandus，forallthatwehaveimposedsilenceonthem.Thedarknessincreaseswithin，althoughtheplaceisopentothesky，andtheicywindblowsmoremournfullythanitdidoutside.A
　　penetratinghumidity——ahumidityaltogetherunknowninthiscountrybeforetheinundation——chillsustothebone.Wearenowinthatpartofthetemplewhichwasleftuncovered，thepartwherethefaithfulusedtokneel.Thesonorityofthegranitesroundaboutexaggeratesthenoiseoftheoarsontheenclosedwater，andthereissomethingconfusinginthethoughtthatwearerowingandfloatingbetweenthewallswhereformerly，andforcenturies，menwereusedtoprostratethemselveswiththeirforeheadsonthestones.
　　Andnowitisquitedark;thehourgrowslate.Wehavetobringtheboatclosetothewallstodistinguishthehieroglyphsandrigidgodswhichareengravedthereasfinelyasbytheburin.Thesewalls，washedfornearlyfouryearsbytheinundation，havealreadytakenonatthebasethatsadblackishcolourwhichmaybeseenontheoldVenetianpalaces.
　　Haltandsilence.Itisdarkandcold.Theoarsnolongermove，andwehearonlythesighingofthewindandthelappingofthewateragainstthecolumnsandthebas—reliefs——andthensuddenlytherecomesthenoiseofaheavybodyfalling，followedbyendlesseddies.Agreatcarvedstonehasplunged，atitsduehour，torejoinintheblackchaosbelowitsfellowsthathavealreadydisappeared，torejointhesubmergedtemplesandoldCopticchurches，andthetownofthefirstChristiancenturies——allthatwasoncetheIsleofPhilae，the"pearlofEgypt，"oneofthemarvelsoftheworld.
　　Thedarknessisnowextremeandwecanseenolonger.Letusgoandshelter，nomatterwhere，toawaitthemoon.Attheendofthisuncoveredhallthereopensadoorwhichgivesontodeepnight.Itistheholyofholies，heavilyroofedwithgranite，thehighestpartofthetemple，theonlypartwhichthewatershavenotyetreached，andthereweareabletoputfoottoearth.Ourfootstepsresoundnoisilyonthelargeresonantflags，andtheowlstaketoflight.Profounddarkness;thewindandthedampnessfreezeus.Threehourstogobeforetherisingofthemoon;towaitinthisplacewouldbeourdeath.RatherletusreturntoChelal，andshelterourselvesinanylodgingthatoffers，howeverwretcheditmaybe.
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　　Atavernofthehorriblevillageinthelightofanelectriclamp.Itreeksofabsinthe，thisdeserttavern，inwhichwewarmourselvesatalittlesmokingfire.Ithasbeenhastilybuiltofoldtinboxes，ofthedebrisofwhiskycases，andbywayofmuraldecorationthelandlord，anignorantMaltese，haspastedeverywherepicturescutfromourEuropeanpornographicnewspapers.Duringourhoursofwaiting，NubiansandArabiansfollowoneanotherhither，askingfordrink，andaresuppliedwithbrimmingglassfulsofouralcoholicbeverages.Theyaretheworkersinthenewfactorieswhowereformerlyhealthybeings，livingintheopenair.Butnowtheirfacesarestainedwithcoaldust，andtheirhaggardeyeslookunhappyandill.
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　　Therisingofthemoonisfortunatelyathand.Oncemoreinourboatwemakeourwayslowlytowardsthesadrockwhichto—dayisPhilae.
　　Thewindhasfallenwiththenight，ashappensalmostinvariablyinthiscountryinwinter，andthelakeiscalm.Tothemournfulyellowskyhassucceededonethatisblue—black，infinitelydistant，wherethestarsofEgyptscintillateinmyriads.
　　Agreatglimmeringlightshowsnowintheeastandatlengththefullmoonrises，notblood—colouredasinourclimatesbutstraightwayveryluminous，andsurroundedbyanaureoleofakindofmist，causedbytheeternaldustofthesands.Andwhenwereturntothebaselesskiosk——lulledalwaysbytheNubiansongoftheboatmen——agreatdiscisalreadyilluminatingeverythingwithagentlesplendour.Asourlittleboatwindsinandout，weseethegreatruddydiscpassingandrepassingbetweenthehighcolumns，sostrikingintheirarchaism，whoseimagesarerepeatedinthewater，thatisnowgrowncalm——morethaneverakioskofdreamland，akioskofold—worldmagic.
　　Inreturningtothetempleofthegoddess，wefollowforasecondtimethesubmergedroadbetweenthecapitalsandfriezesofthecolonnadewhichemergelikearowoflittlereefs.
　　Intheuncoveredhallwhichformstheentrancetothetemple，itisstilldarkbetweenthesovereigngranites.Letusmoorourboatagainstoneofthewallsandawaitthegoodpleasureofthemoon.Assoonassheshallhaverisenhighenoughtocastherlighthere，weshallseeclearly.
　　Itbeginsbyarosyglimmeronthesummitofthepylons;andthentakestheformofaluminoustriangle，veryclearlydefined，whichgrowsgraduallylargerontheimmensewall.Littlebylittleitdescendstowardsthebaseofthetemple，revealingtousbydegreestheintimidatingpresenceofthebas—reliefs，thegods，goddessesandhieroglyphs，andtheassembliesofpeoplewhomakesignsamongthemselves.Wearenolongeralone——awholeworldofphantomshasbeenevokedaroundusbythemoon，somelittle，someverylarge.Theyhadbeenhidingthereintheshadowandnowsuddenlytheyrecommencetheirmuteconversations，withoutbreakingtheprofoundsilence，usingonlytheirexpressivehandsandraisedfingers.AndnowalsothecolossalIsisbeginstoappear——theonecarvedontheleftoftheporticobywhichyouenter;first，herrefinedheadwithitsbird’shelmet，surmountedbyasolardisc;then，asthelightcontinuestodescend，herneckandshoulders，andherarm，raisedtomakewhoknowswhatmysterious，indicatingsign;andfinallytheslimnudityofhertorso，andherhipscloseboundinasheath.Beholdhernow，thegoddess，comecompletelyoutoftheshadowButsheseemssurprisedanddisturbedatseeingatherfeet，insteadofthestonesshehadknownfortwothousandyears，herownlikeness，areflectionofherself，thatstretchesaway，reversedinthemirrorofthewater
　　Andsuddenly，inthemistofthedeepnocturnalcalmofthistemple，isolatedhereinthelake，comesagainthesoundofakindofmournfulbooming，ofthingsthattopple，preciousstonesthatbecomedetachedandfall——andthen，onthesurfaceofthelake，athousandconcentriccirclesform，closeoneanotheranddisappear，rufflingindefinitelythismirrorembankedbetweentheterriblegranites，inwhichIsisregardsherselfsorrowfully.
　　/Postscript./——ThesubmergingofPhilae，asweknow，hasincreasedbynolessthanseventy—fivemillionsofpoundstheannualyieldofthesurroundingland.Encouragedbythissuccess，theEnglishproposenextyeartoraisethebarrageoftheNileanothertwentyfeet.AsaconsequencethissanctuaryofIsiswillbecompletelysubmerged，thegreaterpartoftheancienttemplesofNubiawillbeunderwater，andfeverwillinfectthecountry.But，ontheotherhand，thecultivationofcottonwillbeenormouslyfacilitated