Those from the north have eyes that are bright and clear; and amongst those from Moghreb, from Morocco and the Sahara, are many whose skins are almost black.  But the expression of all the faces is alike:  something of ecstasy and of aloofness marks them all; the same detachment, a preoccupation with the self-same dream.  And in the sky, to which they raise their eyes, the heavens—­framed always by the battlements of El-Azhar—­are almost white from the excess of light, with a border of tall, red minarets, which seem to be aglow with the refection of some great fire.  And, watching them pass, all these young priests or jurists, at once so different and so alike, we understand better than before how Islam, the old, old Islam, keeps still its cohesion and its power.

The mosque in which they pursue their studies is now almost empty.  In its restful twilight there is silence, and the unexpected music of little birds; it is the brooding season and the ceilings of carved wood are full of nests, which nobody disturbs.

A world, this mosque, in which thousands of people could easily find room.  Some hundred and fifty marble columns, brought from ancient temples, support the arches of the seven parallel aisles.  There is no light save that which comes through the arcade opening into the courtyard, and it is so dark in the aisles at the far end that we wonder again how the faithful can see to read when the sun of Egypt happens to be veiled.

Some score of students, who seem almost lost in the vast solitude, still remain during the hour of rest, and are busy sweeping the floor with long palms made into a kind of broom.  These are the poor students, whose only meal is of dry bread, and who at night stretch themselves to sleep on the same mat on which they have sat studying during the day.

The residence at the university is free to all the scholars, the cost of their education and maintenance being provided by pious donations.  But, inasmuch as the bequests are restricted according to nationality, there is necessarily inequality in the treatment doled out to the different students:  thus the young men of a given country may be almost rich, possessing a room and a good bed; while those of a neighbouring country must sleep on the ground and have barely enough to keep body and soul together.  But none of them complain, and they know how to help one another.[*]

     [*] The duration of the studies at El-Azhar varies from
     three to six years.

Near to us, one of these needy students is eating, without any false shame, his midday meal of dry bread; and he welcomes with a smile the sparrows and the other little winged thieves who come to dispute with him the crumbs of his repast.  And farther down, in the dimly lighted vaults at the end, is one who disdains to eat, or who, maybe, has no bread; who, when his sweeping is done, reseats himself on his mat, and, opening his Koran, commences to read aloud with