Who,
to be sure, even in broad daylight, would think of visiting them?
Down there in the west a trailing cloud of dust indicates the
departure of the tourists, who had flocked to the temple of Amen, and
now hasten back to Luxor, to dine at the various /tables d'hote/. The
ground here is so felted with sand that in the distance we cannot hear
the rolling of their carriages. But the knowledge that they are gone
renders more intimate the interview with these numerous and identical
goddesses, who little by little have been draped in shadow. Their
seats turn their backs to the palaces of Thebes, which now begin to be
bathed in violet waves and seem to sink towards the horizon, to lose
each minute something of their importance before the sovereignty of
the night.
And the black goddesses, with their lioness' heads and tall headgear -
seated there with their hands upon their knees, with eyes fixed since
the beginning of the ages, and a disturbing smile on their thick lips,
like those of a wild beast - continue to regard - beyond the little dead
lake - that desert, which now is only a confused immensity, of a bluish
ashy-grey. And the fancy seizes you that they are possessed of a kind
of life, which has come to them after long waiting, by virtue of that
/expression/ which they have worn on their faces so long, oh! so long.
*****
Beyond, at the other extremity of the ruins, there is a sister of
these goddesses, taller than they, a great Sekhet, whom in these parts
men call the Ogress, and who dwells alone and upright, ambushed in a
narrow temple. Amongst the fellahs and the Bedouins of the
neighbourhood she enjoys a very bad reputation, it being her custom of
nights to issue from her temple, and devour men; and none of them
would willingly venture near her dwelling at this late hour. But
instead of returning to Luxor, like the good people whose carriages
have just departed, I rather choose to pay her a visit.
Her dwelling is some distance away, and I shall not reach it till the
dead of night.
First of all I have to retrace my steps, to return along the whole
avenue of rams, to pass again by the feet of the white giant, who has
already assumed his phantomlike appearance, while the violet waves
that bathed the town-mummy thicken and turn to a greyish-blue. And
then, leaving behind me the pylons guarded by the broken giants, I
thread my way among the palaces of the centre.
It is among these palaces that I encounter for good and all the night,
with the first cries of the owls and ospreys. It is still warm there,
on account of the heat stored by the stones during the day, but one
feels nevertheless that the air is freezing.
