ABSTRACT
We are off: the fringe of sand, which forms such a melancholy frame to the splendours of ancient Egypt, grows smaller, sinks, and finally disappears beneath the blue level of the sea. The powdery sparkle of the desert alone remains upon the horizon: the birds of the Nile go a little way with us, then, one after another, leave us, as though to rejoin the sun which is going down in the direction of Alexandria. But, little by little, a bright star climbs higher in the skies, and casts its glittering reflection upon the waters. It is the evening star, Astarte, the ancient goddess of Syria, and she shines with incomparable splendour over the sacred seas which still own her sway.
