From below nothing could be seen but lofty walls rising
indefinitely like those of a monstrous tomb. The night was gloomy, a
greyish fog seemed to weigh upon the sea, which beat against the cliff
with a noise as of death-rattles and sobs; and the shadows gradually
vanished as if they had passed through the walls.
But as soon as the doorway was crossed one found oneself in a vast
quadrangular court bordered by arcades. In the centre rose a mass of
architecture with eight equal faces. It was surmounted by cupolas which
thronged around a second story supporting a kind of rotunda, from which
sprang a cone with a re-entrant curve and terminating in a ball on the
summit.
Fires were burning in cylinders of filigree-work fitted upon poles,
which men were carrying to and fro. These lights flickered in the gusts
of wind and reddened the golden combs which fastened their plaited
hair on the nape of the neck. They ran about calling to one another to
receive the Ancients.
Here and there on the flag-stones huge lions were couched like
sphinxes, living symbols of the devouring sun. They were slumbering with
half-closed eyelids. But roused by the footsteps and voices they rose
slowly, came towards the Ancients, whom they recognised by their dress,
and rubbed themselves against their thighs, arching their backs with
sonorous yawns; the vapour of their breath passed across the light of
the torches.
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