As our little boat winds in and out, we see the great ruddy disc passing and repassing between the high columns, so striking in their archaism, whose images are repeated in the water, that is now grown calm--more than ever a kiosk of dreamland, a kiosk of old-world magic.
In returning to the temple of the goddess, we follow for a second time the submerged road between the capitals and friezes of the colonnade which emerge like a row of little reefs.
In the uncovered hall which forms the entrance to the temple, it is still dark between the sovereign granites.

Let us moor our boat against one of the walls and await the good pleasure of the moon.

As soon as she shall have risen high enough to cast her light here, we shall see clearly.
It begins by a rosy glimmer on the summit of the pylons; and then takes the form of a luminous triangle, very clearly defined, which grows gradually larger on the immense wall.

Little by little it descends towards the base of the temple, revealing to us by degrees the intimidating presence of the bas-reliefs, the gods, goddesses and hieroglyphs, and the assemblies of people who make signs among themselves.

We are no longer alone--a whole world of phantoms has been evoked around us by the moon, some little, some very large.