egypt-第11节

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rare　granite　that　gleams　like　marble。　They　are　entirely　without

ornament。　It　is　necessary　to　look　closely　to　distinguish　on　the　smooth

walls　the　hieroglyphic　inscriptions；　the　rows　of　little　figures；

little　owls；　little　jackals；　that　tell　in　a　lost　language　the　history

of　ancient　peoples。　Here　is　the　signature　of　King　Amasis；　beyond；　that

of　King　Cambyses。　。　。　。　Who　were　the　Titans　who；　century　after

century；　were　able　to　hew　these　coffins　（they　are　at　least　twelve　feet

long　by　ten　feet　high）；　and；　having　hewn　them；　to　carry　them

underground　（they　weigh　on　an　average　between　sixty　and　seventy　tons）；

and　finally　to　range　them　in　rows　here　in　these　strange　chambers；

where　they　stand　as　if　in　ambuscade　on　either　side　of　us　as　we　pass？

Each　in　its　turn　has　contained　quite　comfortably　the　mummy　of　a　bull

Apis；　armoured　in　plates　of　gold。　But　in　spite　of　their　weight；　in

spite　of　their　solidity　which　effectively　defies　destruction；　they

have　been　despoiled＇*＇when　is　not　precisely　known；　probably　by　the

soldiers　of　the　King　of　Persia。　And　this　notwithstanding　that　merely

to　open　them　represents　a　labour　of　astonishing　strength　and　patience。

In　some　cases　the　thieves　have　succeeded；　by　the　aid　of　levers；　in

moving　a　few　inches　the　formidable　lid；　in　others；　by　persevering　with

blows　of　pickaxes；　they　have　pierced；　in　the　thickness　of　the　granite；

a　hole　through　which　a　man　has　been　enabled　to　crawl　like　a　rat；　or　a

worm；　and　then；　groping　his　way；　to　plunder　the　sacred　mummy。



＇*＇　One；　however；　remains　intact　in　the　walled　cavern；　and　thus

　　　　preserves　for　us　the　only　Apis　which　has　come　down　to　our　days。

　　　　And　one　recalls　the　emotion　of　Mariette；　when；　on　entering　it；　he

　　　　saw　on　the　sandy　ground　the　imprint　of　the　naked　feet　of　the　last

　　　　Egyptian　who　left　it　thirty…seven　centuries　before。



What　strikes　us　most　of　all　in　the　colossal　hypogeum　is　the　meeting

there；　in　the　middle　of　the　stairway　by　which　we　leave；　with　yet

another　black　coffin；　which　lies　across　our　path　as　if　to　bar　it。　It

is　as　monstrous　and　as　simple　as　the　others；　its　seniors；　which　many

centuries　before；　as　the　deified　bulls　died；　had　commenced　to　line　the

great　straight　thoroughfare。　But　this　one　has　never　reached　its　place

and　never　held　its　mummy。　It　was　the　last。　Even　while　men　were　slowly

rolling　it；　with　tense　muscles　and　panting　cries；　towards　what　might

well　have　seemed　its　eternal　chamber；　others　gods　were　born；　and　the

cult　of　the　Apis　had　come　to　an　endsuddenly；　then　and　there！　Such　a

fate　may　happen　indeed　to　each　and　all　of　the　religions　and

institutions　of　men；　even　to　those　most　deeply　rooted　in　their　hearts

and　their　ancestral　past。　。　。　。　That　perhaps　is　the　most　disturbing　of

all　our　positive　notions：　to　know　that　there　will　be　a　/last/　of　all

things；　not　only　a　last　temple；　and　a　last　priest；　but　a　last　birth　of

a　human　child；　a　last　sunrise；　a　last　day。　。　。　。



*****



In　these　hot　catacombs　we　had　forgotten　the　cold　wind　that　blew

outside；　and　the　physiognomy　of　the　Memphite　desert；　the　aspects　of

horror　that　were　awaiting　us　above　had　vanished　from　our　mind。

Sinister　as　it　is　under　a　blue　sky；　this　desert　becomes　absolutely

intolerable　to　look　upon　if　by　chance　the　sky　is　cloudy　when　the

daylight　fails。



On　our　return　to　it；　from　the　subterranean　darkness；　everything　in　its

dead　immensity　has　begun　to　take　on　the　blue　tint　of　the　night。　On　the

top　of　the　sandhills；　of　which　the　yellow　colour　has　greatly　paled

since　we　went　below；　the　wind　amuses　itself　by　raising　little　vortices

of　sand　that　imitate　the　spray　of　an　angry　sea。　On　all　sides　dark

clouds　stretch　themselves　as　at　the　moment　of　our　descent。　The　horizon

detaches　itself　more　and　more　clearly　from　them；　and；　farther　towards

the　east；　it　actually　seems　to　be　tilted　up；　one　of　the　highest　of　the

waves　of　this　waterless　sea；　a　mountain　of　sand　whose　soft　contours

are　deceptive　in　the　distance；　makes　it　look　as　if　it　sloped　towards

us；　so　as　almost　to　produce　a　sensation　of　vertigo。　The　sun　itself　has

deigned　to　remain　on　the　scene　a　few　seconds　longer；　held　beyond　its

time　by　the　effect　of　mirage；　but　it　is　so　changed　behind　its　thick

veils　that　we　would　prefer　that　it　should　not　be　there。　Of　the　colour

of　dying　embers；　it　seems　too　near　and　too　large；　it　has　ceased　to

give　any　light；　and　is　become　a　mere　rose…coloured　globe；　that　is

losing　its　shape　and　becoming　oval。　No　longer　in　the　free　heavens；　but

stranded　there　on　the　extreme　edge　of　the　desert；　it　watches　the　scene

like　a　large　dull　eye；　about　to　close　itself　in　death。　And　the

mysterious　superhuman　triangles；　they　too；　of　course；　are　there；

waiting　for　us　on　our　return　from　underground；　some　near；　some　far；

posted　in　their　eternal　places；　but　surely　they　have　grown　gradually

more　blue。　。　。　。



Such　a　night；　in　such　a　place；　it　seems　the　/last/　night。







CHAPTER　VII



THE　OUTSKIRTS　OF　CAIRO



Night。　A　long　straight　road；　the　artery　of　some　capital；　through　which

our　carriage　drives　at　a　fast　trot；　making　a　deafening　clatter　on　the

pavement。　Electric　light　everywhere。　The　shops　are　closing；　it　must

needs　be　late。



The　road　is　Levantine　in　its　general　character；　and　we　should　have　no

clear　notion　of　the　place　did　we　not　see　in　our　rapid；　noisy　passage

signs　that　recall　us　to　the　land　of　the　Arabs。　People　pass　dressed　in

the　long　robe　and　tarboosh　of　the　East；　and　some　of　the　houses；　above

the　European　shops；　are　ornamented　with　mushrabiyas。　But　this　blinding

electricity　strikes　a　false　note。　In　our　hearts　are　we　quite　sure　we

are　in　the　East？



The　road　ends；　opening　on　to　darkness。　Suddenly；　without　any　warning；

it　abuts　upon　a　void　in　which　the　eyes　see　nothing；　and　we　roll　over　a

yielding；　felted　soil；　where　all　noise　abruptly　ceasesit　is　the

/desert/！　。　。　。　Not　a　vague；　nondescript　stretch　of　country　such　as　in

the　outskirts　of　our　towns；　not　one　of　the　solitudes　of　Europe；　but

the　threshold　of　the　vast　desolations　of　Arabia。　/The　desert/；　and；

even　if　we　had　not　known　that　it　was　awaiting　us；　we　should　have

recognised　it　by　the　indescribable　quality　of　harshness　and　uniqueness

which；　in　spite　of　the　darkness；　cannot　be　mistaken。



But　the　night　after　all　is　not　so　black。　It　only　seemed　so；　at　the

first　moment；　by　contrast　with　the　glaring　illumination　of　the　street。

In　reality　it　is　transparent　and　blue。　A　half…moon；　high　up　in　the

heavens；　and　veiled　by　a　diaphanous　mist；　shines　gently；　and　as　it　is

an　Egyptian　moon；　more　subtle　than　ours；　it　leaves　to　things　a　little

of　their　colour。　We　can　see　now；　as　well　as　feel；　this　desert；　which

has　opened　and　imposed　its　silence　upon　us。　Before　us　is　the　paleness

of　its　sands　and　the　reddish…brown　of　its　dead　rocks。　Verily；　in　no

country　but　Egypt　are　there　such　rapid　surprises：　to　issue　from　a

street　flanked　by　shops　and　stalls　and；　without　transition；　to　find

this！　。　。　。



Our　horses　have；　inevitably；　to　slacken　speed　as　the　wheels　of　our

carriage　sink　into　the　sand。　Around　us　still　are　some　stray　ramblers；

who　presently　assume　the　air　of　ghosts；　with　their　long　black　or　white

draperies；　and　noiseless　tread。　And　then；　not　a　soul；　nothing　but　the

sand　and　the　moon。



But　now　almost　at　once；　after　the　short　intervening　nothingness；　we

find　ourselves　in　a　new　town；　streets　with　little　low　houses；　little

cross…roads；　little　squares；　all　of　them　white；　on　whitened　sands；

beneath　a　white　moon。　。　。　。　But　there　is　no　electricity　in　this　town；

no　lights；　and　nobody　is　stirring；　doors　and　windows　are　shut：　no

movement　of　any　kind；　and　the　silence；　at　first；　is　like　that　of　the

surrounding　desert。　It　is　a　town　in　which　the　half…light　of　the　moon；

amongst　so　much　vague　whiteness；　is　diffused　in　such　a　way　that　it

seems　to　come　from　all　sides　at　once　and　things　cast　no　shadows　which

might　give　them　definiteness；　a　town　where　the　soil　is　so　yielding

that　our　progress　is　weakened　and　retarded；　as　in　dreams。　It　seems

unreal；　and；　in　penetrating　farther　into　it；　a　sense　of　fear　comes

over　you　that　can　neither　be　dismissed　nor　defined。



For　assuredly　this　is　no　ordinary　town。　。　。　。　And　yet　the　houses；　with

their　windows　barred　like　those　of　a　harem；　are　in　no　way　singular

except　that　they　are　shut　and　silent。　It　is　all　this　whiteness；

perhaps；　which　freezes　us。　And　then；　too；　the　silence　is　not；　in　fact；

like　that　of　the　desert；　which　did　at　least　seem　natural；　inasmuch　as

there　was　nothing　there；　here；　on　the　contrary；　there　is　a　sense　of

innumerable　presences；　which　shrink　away　as　you　pass　but　nevertheless

continue　to　watch　attentively。　。　。　。　We　pass　mosques　in　total　darkness

and　they　too　are　silent　and　white；　with　a　slight　bluish　tint　cast　on

them　by　the　moon。　And　sometimes；　between　the　houses；　there　are　little

enclosed　spaces；　like　narrow　gardens；　but　which　can　have　no　possible

verdure。　And　in　these　gardens　numbers　of　little　obelisks　rise　from　the

sandwhit