For these were not "Les desenchantees,"
the restless, sad-hearted women of an Eastern world that knows too
much. Their longings surely cannot have been very great. Their world
was probably bounded by the calf of Rameses's leg. That was "the far
horizon" of the little plump-faced wives.
The happy dancers and the humble wives, they always come before me
with the temple of Luxor - joy and discretion side by side. And with
them, to my ears, the two voices seem to come, muezzin and angelus
bell, mingling not in war, but peace. When I think of this temple, I
think of its joy and peace far less than of its majesty.
And yet it is majestic. Look at it, as I have often done, toward
sunset from the western bank of the Nile, or climb the mound beyond
its northern end, where stands the grand entrance, and you realize at
once its nobility and solemn splendor. From the /Loulia's/ deck it was
a procession of great columns; that was all. But the decorative effect
of these columns, soaring above the river and its vivid life, is fine.
By day all is turmoil on the river-bank. Barges are unloading,
steamers are arriving, and throngs of donkey-boys and dragomans go
down in haste to meet them. Servants run to and fro on errands from
the many dahabiyehs. Bathers leap into the brown waters. The native
craft pass by with their enormous sails outspread to catch the wind,
bearing serried mobs of men, and black-robed women, and laughing,
singing children.
