Excerpt: ... city was one mass of flames, the lurid light from which illuminated sky and sea with a bright red glare." The blazing African sun was fading, flooding the calm sapphire Mediterranean with its blood-red afterglow. The air was oppressive, the wind blew hot from the desert, and shoals of tiny green birds were chattering before roosting in the oasis of tall date palms that cast long shadows over the sun-baked 170 stones of the Place du Gouvernement at Algiers. Everything was of a dazzling whiteness, relieved only ...
Read More
Excerpt: ... city was one mass of flames, the lurid light from which illuminated sky and sea with a bright red glare." The blazing African sun was fading, flooding the calm sapphire Mediterranean with its blood-red afterglow. The air was oppressive, the wind blew hot from the desert, and shoals of tiny green birds were chattering before roosting in the oasis of tall date palms that cast long shadows over the sun-baked 170 stones of the Place du Gouvernement at Algiers. Everything was of a dazzling whiteness, relieved only by the blue sky and sea. The broad, handsome Square was almost deserted, the jalousies of the European houses were still closed, and although a few people were sipping absinthe at the cafes, the siesta was not yet over. At one corner of the Square the Mosque of Djama-el-Djedid, with its dome and minarets, stood out intensely white against the bright, cloudless sky, its spotless cleanliness causing the white-washed houses of Europeans to appear yellow and dingy; and as the mueddin stood on one of the minarets with arms uplifted, calling the Faithful to prayer, idle Moors and Arabs, who had been lying asleep in the shadow during the afternoon, rose quickly, rearranged their burnouses, and entered the Mosque in order to render thanks to Allah. Darkness crept on after a brief twilight. Moorish women, wrapped in their white haicks, wearing their ugly baggy trousers, and veiled to the eyes, waddled along slowly and noiselessly among the palms, and gradually a gay cosmopolitan crowd assembled in the Place to enjoy the bel fresco after the terrible heat of the day, and to listen to the fine band of the 1st Zouaves, which had already taken up its stand in the centre of the Square, and was now playing one of Strauss's dreamy waltzes. The night was bright and starlit, one of those calm, mystic evenings peculiar to North Africa. All was peaceful, but no moon had yet risen. The city wore its gay air of carelessness. White-robed Moors and red-fezzed Arabs, ...
Read Less