Wewatchthesundescend.Butweturnalsotosee，behindus，theruinsinthisthetraditionalmomentoftheirapotheosis.Thebes，theimmensetown—mummy，seemsallatoncetobeablaze——asifitsoldstoneswereablestilltoburn;allitsblocks，fallenorupright，appeartohavebeensuddenlymaderuddybytheglowoffire.
Onthisside，too，theviewembracesgreatpeacefuldistances.Pastthelastpylons，andbeyondthecrumblingrampartsthecountry，downtherebehindthetown，presentsthesameappearanceasthatwewerefacingamomentbefore.Thesamecornfields，thesamewoodsofdate—
trees，thatmakeagirdleofgreenpalmsaroundtheruins.And，rightinthebackground，achainofmountainsislitupandglowswithavividcoralcolour.ItisthechainoftheArabiandesert，lyingparalleltothatofLibya，alongthewholelengthoftheNileValley——
whichisthusguardedonrightandleftbystonesandsandstretchedoutinprofoundsolitudes.
Inallthesurroundingcountrywhichwecommandfromthisspotthereisnoindicationofthepresentday;onlyhereandthere，amongstthepalm—trees，thevillagesofthefieldlabourers，whosehousesofdriedearthcanscarcelyhavechangedsincethedaysofthePharaohs.Ourcontemporarydesecratorshaveuptillnowrespectedtheinfinitedesuetudeoftheplace，and，forthetouristswhobegintohauntit，nooneyethasdaredtobuildahotel.