CHAPTER XIII.
MODERN LUXOR The waters of the Nile being already low my dahabiya--delayed by strandings--had not been able to reach Luxor, and we had moored ourselves, as the darkness began to fall, at a casual spot on the bank.
"We are quite near," the pilot had told me before departing to make his evening prayer; "in an hour, to-morrow, we shall be there." And the gentle night descended upon us in this spot which did not seem to differ at all from so any others where, for a month past now, we had moored our boat at hazard to await the daybreak.

On the banks were dark confused masses of foliage, above which here and there a high date-palm outlined its black plumes.

The air was filled with the multitudinous chirpings of the crickets of Upper Egypt, which make their music here almost throughout the year in the odorous warmth of the grass.

And, presently, in the midst of the silence, rose the cries of the night birds, like the mournful mewings of cats.

And that was all--save for the infinite calm of the desert that is always present, dominating everything, although scarcely noticed and, as it were, latent.
***** And this morning, at the rising of the sun, is pure and splendid as all other mornings.