Their moment had passed; they could
not overtake it; the match had spluttered and gone out at the fuel laid
for the fire of fanaticism.
The morning of David's departure came. While yet it was dark he had
risen, and had made his last preparations. When he came into the open air
and mounted, it was not yet sunrise, and in that spectral early light,
which is all Egypt's own, Cairo looked like some dream-city in a
forgotten world. The Mokattam Hills were like vast dun barriers guarding
and shutting in the ghostly place, and, high above all, the minarets of
the huge mosque upon the lofty rocks were impalpable fingers pointing an
endless flight. The very trees seemed so little real and substantial that
they gave the eye the impression that they might rise and float away. The
Nile was hung with mist, a trailing cloud unwound from the breast of the
Nile-mother. At last the sun touched the minarets of the splendid mosque
with shafts of light, and over at Ghizeh and Sakkarah the great pyramids,
lifting their heads from the wall of rolling blue mist below, took the
morning's crimson radiance with the dignity of four thousand years.
Pages:
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641