It is as if someone were putting frosted globes over the moon, so that soon, but for the transparency of this air of Egypt and the prevailing whiteness of things, there would be no light at all.

Once at a window the light of a lamp appears; it is the lantern of gravediggers.

Anon we hear the voices of men chanting a prayer; and the prayer is a prayer for the dead.
These tenantless houses were never built for dwellings.

They are simply places where men assemble on certain anniversaries, to pray for the dead.

Every Moslem family of any note has its little temple of this kind, near to the family graves.