did not seem to take further heed of them, and we had already forgotten these disquieting symptoms, which, however, had not escaped our notice, when, on entering the Wadi Pharan, we felt passing round us some of those fierce blasts of wind, the feverish pantings of the Desert. The heat soon became insupportable; the sand raised by an imperceptible breeze, which seemed an exhalation from the earth, enveloped us in a cloud which burned our eyes, and every respiration choked our mouths and noses. Our Arabs, on their part, contrary to their habit, seemed to suffer from these inconveniences as well as ourselves, though it might be supposed that they were used to such attacks. They exchanged brief and hurried phrases with each other, and by degrees the remains of the hostility of the preceding evening were extinguished in a common anxiety. The two tribes closed and mingled together; the very dromedaries seemed anxious to seek each other, galloping with great agitation, never relaxing their pace, and stretching out their long necks, so that their lower lips brushed the ground. From time to time they gave irregular and sudden starts, as if the ground burned their feet. Taleb then called out, "Have a care." And after him the Arabs repeated this warning, which I heard without being able to comprehend by what danger we were menaced. approached Bechara to ask him the cause of the

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uneasiness which pervaded us all, men and beasts. His only answer was to take the skirt of his long robe and fling it over his shoulder, enveloping himself so as to cover his nose and mouth. I did the same, and on turning round, I perceived that our example had been followed by the Arabs, of whom nothing was seen but their black and brilliant eyes, which seemed still more black and brilliant, peeping out of their bournouses and abbayes. Finally, at the end of a quarter of an hour, there was no further necessity for asking any questions; we all, Franks and Arabs, knew equally well what was coming. The Desert forewarned us by all its signs, and spoke by all its voices; it was the Khamsin.

Our course was very irregular, for the sand rose like a wall between us and the horizon. At every moment, the Arabs, whose eyes could not penetrate this curtain of flame, shaded them with their hands to aid their sight, while their faces displayed anxiety and irresolution. In the mean time, the tempest continually augmented; the Desert became more and more billowy; we entered deep furrows of sand, agitated like the billows of the ocean, and crossed the burning crests of these hillocks as a skilful swimmer cleaves the wave. In spite of the precaution we had taken to cover our mouths with our mantles, we breathed as much sand as air; our tongues clove to the roofs of our mouths, our eyes became haggard

and bloodshot, our respiration rattling in our throats revealed our sufferings without the use of words. I have often been exposed to danger and peril, but I never felt such an impression as that which I then experienced; it was nearly similar to that of a shipwrecked mariner exposed on a plank in the midst of a tempestuous ocean. We advanced almost sense

less, without knowing whither, always more rapidly and obscurely, for the cloud of dust which surrounded us became every moment more dense and burning. Finally, Taleb gave a very shrill shout; it was an order to halt.

The two chiefs, Bechara, Araballah, and the Arab who on this day had the guidance of the caravan, held a council of war; they were the most experienced pilots of this changing ocean in which we had gone astray. The opinions were given in turn, and in spite of our situation, or rather perhaps from the very necessity of our situation, they were given with a sage moderation and slow solemnity.

During this time the sandy billows continued to rise higher. Finally, Taleb summed up all opinions, extended his arm to the south-west, gave the signal to proceed, and immediately the headlong race recommenced; but this time without any hesitation or deviation, in the track of the two sheikhs, who, under such perilous circumstances, took the guidance of the caravan upon themselves. We were ad

vancing towards some object, but we had not time to ask what it was; we only knew that if we missed it, we were lost.

The Desert was imposing and melancholy; it seemed to pant and heave beneath us, and to force up a burning breath from its inmost depths. The transition had been rapid and singular; it was no longer the oasis of the preceding evening, the repose at the foot of the palm-trees, the refreshing sleep, lulled by the murmuring sounds of the fountain; it was the burning sand, the terrible shock of the dromedary; the devouirng thirst, fierce, terrible, and maddening; the thirst which makes the blood boil, fascinates the eyes, and displays to the wretch that it scorches lakes, islands, trees, fountains, shade, and water. I know not whether the rest felt like me, but I was really a prey to temporary insanity, to a reverie, to an endless delirium, which extended itself through all the vagaries of imagination. From time to time our dromedaries sank down, digging the scorching soil with their heads to find some semblance of coolness beneath the surface; they then rose feverish and panting like ourselves, and resumed their fantastic course. I do not know how often these falls were renewed; I cannot tell how we were so lucky as to escape from being crushed under our haghins, or buried beneath the sand; but I do remember that scarcely had we fallen, when Taleb,

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Bechara, and Araballah were close to us, prompt and ready to give assistance, but mute as spectres; they raised up the men and camels, and then resumed their course, silent and folded in their mantles. hour longer of this tempest, and I am convinced that it would have buried us all. Suddenly a blast of wind passed, illuminating the horizon, as when the curtain is raised at a theatre. "The Mokatteb!" cried Taleb. "The Mokatteb!" repeated all the Arabs. Then the sand rose again between us and the mountain; but Providence, as if to restore our strength, had shown us the desired haven. "The Mokatteb! The Mokatteb!" we repeated, without knowing what the Mokatteb was; but guessing that it was our haven, safety, and life. Five minutes after, we glided like serpents into a deep cavern: the narrow entrance of the cave allowed very little light to come in: our exhausted dromedaries knelt down with their heads extended to the rock, and remained so motionless, that their skins, covered with sand, gave them the appearance of camels in stone. On our side, without thinking of tent, carpet, or food, we lay down as best we could, a prey at once to a numbness and a delirium which held the midway between sleep and violent fever; then, without speaking, sleeping, or stirring, we remained there until the next morning, extended on our faces, like statues hurled from their base.