noon
Then at a corner of the street , the blue sparkle of the waves and the immensity of nature . But as the day advanced , the sun rising in the heavens spread over the sea -- now escaped from its mists , still with the transparence of quartz -- thousands of rays striking the water like arrow-heads , a dazzling sight made doubly so by the whiteness of the rocks and of the soil , by a veritable African sirocco which raised the dust in a whirlwind on the road . They were coming to the hottest and most sheltered places of the Corniche -- a true exotic temperature , scattering dates , cactus , and aloes . Seeing these thin trunks , this fantastic vegetation in the white hot air , feeling the blinding dust crackle under the wheels like snow , de Gery , his eyes half closed , dreaming in this leaden noon , thought he was once more on that fatiguing road from Tunis to the Bardo , in a singular medley of Levantine carriages with brilliant liveries , of long-necked camels , of caparisoned mules , of young donkeys , of Arabs in rags , of half-naked negroes , of officials in full-dress with their guard of honour . Should he find there , where the road ran through the gardens of palm-trees , the strange and colossal architecture of the Bey 's palace , its barred windows with closed lattices , its marble gates , its balconies in carved wood painted in bright colours ? -- It was not the Bardo , but the lovely country of Bordighera , divided , like all those on the coast , into two parts -- the sea town lying on the shore ; and the upper town , joined to it by a forest of motionless palm-trees , with upright stem and falling crown -- like green rockets , springing into the blue with their thousand feathers . The insupportable heat , the overtired horses , forced the traveller to stop for a couple of hours at one of those great hotels which line the road , and bring every November into this little town , so marvellously sheltered , the luxurious life and cosmopolitan animation of an aristocratic wintering place .