Egypt and its monuments . I went tothe temple of Kurna, that lonely cenotaph,with its sand-colored, massive fa9ade, its heapsof fallen stone, its wide and ruined doorway, its thick,almost rough, columns recalling Medinet-Abu. Thereis not very much to see, but from there one has a fineview of other temples—of the Ramesseum, lookingsuperb, like a grand skeleton ; of Medinet-Abu, distant,very pale gold in the morning sunlight; of little Deir-al-Medinet, the pretty child of the Ptolemies, with the headsof the seven Hathors. And from Kurna the Colossi areexceptionally grand and exceptionally person
Egypt and its monuments . I went tothe temple of Kurna, that lonely cenotaph,with its sand-colored, massive fa9ade, its heapsof fallen stone, its wide and ruined doorway, its thick,almost rough, columns recalling Medinet-Abu. Thereis not very much to see, but from there one has a fineview of other temples—of the Ramesseum, lookingsuperb, like a grand skeleton ; of Medinet-Abu, distant,very pale gold in the morning sunlight; of little Deir-al-Medinet, the pretty child of the Ptolemies, with the headsof the seven Hathors. And from Kurna the Colossi areexceptionally grand and exceptionally personal, so per-sonal that one imagines one sees the expressions of thefaces that they no longer possess. Even if you do not go into the tombs,—but you willgo,—you must ride to the tombs of the kings ; andyou must, if you care for the finesse of impressions,ride on a blazing day and toward the hour of the ravine is itself, like the great act that demon-strates a temperament. It is the narrow home of fire, THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS hemmed in by brilliant colors, nearly all—perhapsquite all — of which could be found in a glowingfurnace. Every shade of yellow is there, — lemonyellow, sulphur yellow, the yellow of amber, the yel-low of orange with its tendency toward red, the yellowof gold, sand color, sun color. Cannot all these yel-lows be found in a fire ? And there are reds—pink ofthe carnation, pink of the coral, red of the little rosethat grows in certain places of sands, red of the brightflames heart. And all these colors are mingled in com-plete sterility. And all are fused into a fierce brotherhoodby the sun. And like a flood, they seem flowing to thered and the yellow mountains, like a flood that is flow-ing to its sea. You are taken by them toward themountains, on and on, till the world is closing in, andyou know the way must come to an end. And it comesto an end—in a tomb. You go to a door in the rock, and a guardian letsyou in, and wants to foll
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