Reflecting,
however, that I might have to encounter this wind in the Desert,
where there would be no possibility of avoiding it, I thought it
would be better to brave it once more in the city, and to try
whether I could really bear it or not. I therefore mounted my ass
and rode to old Cairo, and along the gardens by the banks of the
Nile. The wind was hot to the touch, as though it came from a
furnace. It blew strongly, but yet with such perfect steadiness,
that the trees bending under its force remained fixed in the same
curves without perceptibly waving. The whole sky was obscured by a
veil of yellowish grey, that shut out the face of the sun. The
streets were utterly silent, being indeed almost entirely deserted;
and not without cause, for the scorching blast, whilst it fevers
the blood, closes up the pores of the skin, and is terribly
distressing, therefore, to every animal that encounters it. I
returned to my rooms dreadfully ill. My head ached with a burning
pain, and my pulse bounded quick and fitfully, but perhaps (as in
the instance of the poor Levantine, whose death I was mentioning),
the fear and excitement which I felt in trying my own wrist may
have made my blood flutter the faster.
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