s the entrance to the temple, it is
still dark between the sovereign granites. Let us moor our boat against
one of the walls and await the good pleasure of the moon. As soon as
she shall have risen high enough to cast her light here, we shall see
clearly.

It begins by a rosy glimmer on the summit of the pylons; and then takes
the form of a luminous triangle, very clearly defined, which grows
gradually larger on the immense wall. Little by little it descends
towards the base of the temple, revealing to us by degrees the
intimidating presence of the bas-reliefs, the gods, goddesses and
hieroglyphs, and the assemblies of people who make signs among
themselves. We are no longer alone--a whole world of phantoms has been
evoked around us by the moon, some little, some very large. They had
been hiding there in the shadow and now suddenly they recommence their
mute conversations, without breaking the profound silence, using only
their expressive hands and raised fingers. And now also the colossal
Isis begins to appear--the one carved on the left of the portico
by which you enter; first, her refined head with its bird's helmet,
surmounted by a solar disc; then, as the light continues to descend,
her neck and shoulders, and her arm, raised to make who knows what
mysterious, indicating sign; and finally the slim nudity of her torso,
and her hips close bound in a sheath. Behold her now, the goddess,
come completely out of the shadow. . . . But she seems surprised and
disturbed at seeing at her feet, instead of the stones she had known
for two thousand years, her own likeness, a reflection of herself, that
stretches away, reversed in the mirror of the water. . . .

And suddenly, in the mist of the deep nocturnal calm of this temple,
isolated here in the lake, comes again the sound of a kind of mournful
booming, of things that topple, precious stones that become detached
and fall--and then, on the surface of the lake, a thousand concentric
circles form, close one another and disappear, ruffling indefinitely
this mirror embanked between the terrible granites, in which Isis
regards herself sorrowfully.

_Postscript._--The submerging of Philae, as we know, has increased by
no less than seventy-five millions of pounds the annual yield of the
surrounding land. Encouraged by this success, the English propose
next year to raise the barrage of the Nile another twenty feet. As a
consequence this sanctuary of Isis will be completely submer