_Chapter XXIII_
_THE GARDENS OF NEFTA_
A person unacquainted with tropical vegetation would be amazed at the
prodigality of the oasis of Nefta; in point of exuberance it is as
superior to Tozeur as that to Gafsa. But the cathedral-like gravity of
Tozeur is lacking; there is too much riot and opulence, too many
voluptuous festoons and spears and spirals, a certain craving, so to
speak, after the purely ornate: if Tozeur represents the decorative style
of Louis Quatorze, this is assuredly Louis Seize. One great drawback is
that the thick undergrowth often obstructs the view; and another, that you
cannot walk about in all directions, as at Tozeur, because there is too
much running water--perhaps one should say too few paths and bridges. For
the last two days a sand-storm of unusual violence has been raging. On the
ridges above the town one can hardly stand on one's feet; the grains fly
upwards, over the crest of the hill, in blinding showers, mighty squadrons
of them careering across the plain below. The landscape is involved in a
dim, roseate twilight. But occasionally there comes a sickly radiance from
behind the curtain of cloud that glimmers lustreless, like an incandescent
lamp seen through a fog: it is the sun shining brightly in the pure
regions of the upper air.
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