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第12节

egypt-第12节

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

sandwhite obelisks; it is needless to say; for to…night we are in

the kingdom of absolute whiteness。 What can they be; these strange

little gardens? 。 。 。 And the sand; meanwhile; which covers the

streets with its thick coatings; continues to deaden the sound of our

progress; out of compliment no doubt to all these watchful things that

are so silent around us。



At the crossings and in the little squares the obelisks become more

numerous; erected always at either end of a slab of stone that is

about the length of a man。 Their little motionless groups; posted as

if on the watch; seem so little real in their vague whiteness that we

feel tempted to verify them by touching; and; verily; we should not be

astonished if our hand passed through them as through a ghost。 Farther

on there is a wide expanse without any houses at all; where these

ubiquitous little obelisks abound in the sand like ears of corn in a

field。 There is now no further room for illusion。 We are in a

cemetery; and have been passing in the midst of houses of the dead;

and mosques of the dead; in a town of the dead。



Once emerged from this cemetery; which in the end at least disclosed

itself in its true character; we are involved again in the

continuation of the mysterious town; which takes us back into its

network。 Little houses follow one another as before; only now the

little gardens are replaced by little burial enclosures。 And

everything grows more and more indistinct; in the gentle light; which

gradually grows less。 It is as if someone were putting frosted globes

over the moon; so that soon; but for the transparency of this air of

Egypt and the prevailing whiteness of things; there would be no light

at all。 Once at a window the light of a lamp appears; it is the

lantern of gravediggers。 Anon we hear the voices of men chanting a

prayer; and the prayer is a prayer for the dead。



These tenantless houses were never built for dwellings。 They are

simply places where men assemble on certain anniversaries; to pray for

the dead。 Every Moslem family of any note has its little temple of

this kind; near to the family graves。 And there are so many of them

that now the place is become a townand a town in the desertthat is

to say; in a place useless for any other purpose; a secure place

indeed; for we may be sure that the ground occupied by these poor

tombs runs no risk of being covetednot even in the irreverent times

of the future。 No; it is on the other side of Cairoon the other bank

of the Nile; amongst the verdure of the palm…trees; that we must look

for the suburb in course of transformation; with its villas of the

invading foreigner; and the myriad electric lights along its motor

roads。 On this side there is no such fear; the peace and desuetude are

eternal; and the winding sheet of the Arabian sands is ready always

for its burial office。



At the end of this town of the dead; the desert again opens before us

its mournful whitened expanse。 On such a night as this; when the wind

blows cold and the misty moon shows like a sad opal; it looks like a

steppe under snow。



But it is a desert planted with ruins; with the ghosts of mosques; a

whole colony of high tumbling domes are scattered here at hazard on

the shifting extent of the sands。 And what strange old…fashioned domes

they are! The archaism of their silhouettes strikes us from the first;

as much as their isolation in such a place。 They look like bells; or

gigantic dervish hats placed on pedestals; and those farthest away

give the impression of squat; large…headed figures posted there as

sentinels; watching the vague horizon of Arabia beyond。



They are the proud tombs of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries

where the Mameluke Sultans; who oppressed Egypt for nearly three

hundred years; sleep now in complete abandonment。 Nowadays; it is

true; some visits are beginning to be paid to themon winter nights

when the moon is full and they throw on the sands their great clear…

cut shadows。 At such times the light is considered favourable; and

they rank among the curiosities exploited by the agencies。 Numbers of

tourists (who persist in calling them the tombs of the caliphs) betake

themselves thither of an eveninga noisy caravan mounted on little

donkeys。 But to…night the moon is too pale and uncertain; and we shall

no doubt be alone in troubling them in their ghostly communion。



To…night indeed the light is quite unusual。 As just now in the town of

the dead; it is diffused on all sides and gives even to the most

massive objects the transparent semblance of unreality。 But

nevertheless it shows their detail and leaves them something of their

daylight colouring; so that all these funeral domes; raised on the

ruins of the mosques; which serve them as pedestals; have preserved

their reddish or brown colours; although the sand which separates

them; and makes between the tombs of the different sultans little dead

solitudes; remains pale and wan。



And meanwhile our carriage; proceeding always without noise; traces on

this same sand little furrows which the wind will have effaced by

to…morrow。 There are no roads of any kind; they would indeed be as

useless as they are impossible to make。 You may pass here where you

like; and fancy yourself far away from any place inhabited by living

beings。 The great town; which we know to be so close; appears from

time to time; thanks to the undulations of the ground; as a mere

phosphorescence; a reflection of its myriad electric lights。 We are

indeed in the desert of the dead; in the sole company of the moon;

which; by the fantasy of this wonderful Egyptian sky; is to…night a

moon of grey pearl; one might almost say a moon of mother…of…pearl。



Each of these funeral mosques is a thing of splendour; if one examines

it closely in its solitude。 These strange upraised domes; which from a

distance look like the head…dresses of dervishes or magi; are

embroidered with arabesques; and the walls are crowned with

denticulated trefoils of exquisite fashioning。



But nobody venerates these tombs of the Mameluke oppressors; or keeps

them in repair; and within them there are no more chants; no prayers

to Allah。 Night after night they pass in an infinity of silence。 Piety

contents itself with not destroying them; leaving them there at the

mercy of time and the sun and the wind which withers and crumbles

them。 And all around are the signs of ruin。 Tottering cupolas show us

irreparable cracks; the halves of broken arches are outlined to…night

in shadow against the mother…of…pearl light of the sky; and debris of

sculptured stones are strewn about。 But nevertheless these tombs; that

are well…nigh accursed; still stir in us a vague sense of alarm

particularly those in the distance; which rise up like silhouettes of

misshapen giants in enormous hatsdark on the white sheet of sand

and stand there in groups; or scattered in confusion; at the entrance

to the vast empty regions beyond。



*****



We had chosen a time when the light was doubtful in order that we

might avoid the tourists; but as we approach the funeral dwelling of

Sultan Barkuk; the assassin; we see; issuing from it; a whole band;

some twenty in a line; who emerge from the darkness of the abandoned

walls; each trotting on his little donkey and each followed by the

inevitable Bedouin driver; who taps with his stick upon the rump of

the beast。 They are returning to Cairo; their visit ended; and

exchange in a loud voice; from one ass to another; more or less inept

impressions in various European languages。 。 。 。 And look! There is

even amongst them the almost proverbial belated dame who; for private

reasons of her own; follows at a respectable distance behind。 She is a

little mature perhaps; so far as can be judged in the moonlight; but

nevertheless still sympathetic to her driver; who; with both hands;

supports her from behind on her saddle; with a touching solicitude

that is peculiar to the country。 Ah! these little donkeys of Egypt; so

observant; so philosophical and sly; why cannot they write their

memoirs! What a number of droll things they must have seen at night in

the outskirts of Cairo!



This good lady evidently belongs to that extensive category of hardy

explorers who; despite their high respectability at home; do not

hesitate; once they are landed on the banks of the Nile; to supplement

their treatment by the sun and the dry winds with a little of the

〃Bedouin cure。〃







CHAPTER VIII



ARCHAIC CHRISTIANITY



Dimly lighted by the flames of a few poor slender tapers which flicker

against the walls in stone arches; a dense crowd of human figures

veiled in black; in a place overpowering and suffocatingunderground;

no doubtwhich is filled with the perfume of the incense of Arabia;

and a noise of almost wicked movement; which sirs us to alarm and even

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