“I am the scapegoat, and I take upon me all the impurities of these people, and that is why, Lord, my body is filled with evil spirits.”

Every time that a sick person went away healed, the people applauded, carried him in triumph, and ceased not to repeat—­

“We behold another well of Siloam!”

Hundreds of crutches already hung round the wonderful column; grateful women suspended wreaths and votive images there.  Some of the Greeks inscribed distiches, and as every pilgrim carved his name, the stone was soon covered as high as a man could reach with an infinity of Latin, Greek, Coptic, Punic, Hebrew, Syrian, and magic characters.

When the feast of Easter came there was such an affluence of people to this city of miracles that old men thought that the days of the ancient mysteries had returned.  All sorts of people, in all sorts of costumes, were to be seen there; the striped robes of the Egyptians, the burnoose of the Arabs, the white drawers of the Nubians, the short cloak of the Greeks, the long toga of the Romans, the scarlet breeches of the barbarians, the gold-spangled robes of the courtesans.  A veiled woman would pass on an ass, preceded by black eunuchs, who cleared a passage for her by the free use of their sticks.  Acrobats, having spread a carpet on the ground, juggled and performed skilful tricks before a circle of silent spectators.  Snake-charmers unrolled their living girdles.  A glittering, dusty, noisy, chattering crowd!  The curses of the camel-drivers beating the animals; the cries of the hawkers who sold amulets against leprosy and the evil eye; the psalmody of the monks reciting verses of the Bible; the shrieking of the women who were prophesying; the shouting of the beggars singing old songs of the harem; the bleating of sheep; the braying of asses; the sailors calling tardy passengers; all these confused noises caused a deafening uproar, over which dominated the strident voices of the little naked negro boys, running about everywhere selling fresh dates.

And all these human beings stifled under the white sky, in a heavy atmosphere laden with the perfumes of women, the odour of negroes, the fumes of cooking and the smoke of gums, which the devotees bought of the shepherds to burn before the saint.

When night came, fires, torches, and lanterns were lighted everywhere, and nothing was to be seen but red shadows and black shapes.  Standing amidst a circle of squatting listeners, an old man, his face lighted by a smoky lamp, related how, formerly, Bitiou had enchanted his heart, torn it from his breast, placed it in an acacia, and then transformed himself into a tree.  He made gestures, which his shadow repeated with absurd exaggerations, and the audience uttered cries of admiration.  In the taverns, the drinkers, lying on couches, called for beer and wine.  Dancing girls, with painted eyes and bare stomachs, performed before them religious or lascivious scenes.  In retired corners, young men played