They all wanted to tread on his back, but I would not let them do it.
I got some hot brandy and restoratives, and gave him a good dosing
between his clenched teeth. The result was he came to in an hour and
a half, sensible, but very tipsy; but he managed to kiss my hand and
thank me. The last day was Easter Sunday. We performed our Sunday
service in one of the ruined temples, we wrote our journals, and
prepared for departure on the morrow. The next day we left Palmyra.
We should have done better to have remained there fifteen days instead
of five. I wish we had taken ropes and ladders, planks to bridge over
broken staircases, and a crowbar. We might then have thoroughly examined
three places which we could not otherwise do: the Palace of the Pretty,
the Palace of the Maiden, and the Palace of the Bride, the three best
Tower Tombs.
We left camp at dawn, and a terribly hot day it was. We encamped at
8 p.m. in a mountain defile. We were all dead-beat, and so were the
horses. At night I had fever, and a hurricane of wind and rain nearly
carried our tents away. On the second day we rode from dawn to sunset,
with the driving wind and the sand in our faces, filling eyes, ears,
nose, and mouth. I felt so cold, tired, and disheartened, that as
I sat in my saddle and rode along I cried for about two hours, and
Richard and the others laughed at me. Whilst I was crying we saw a
body of mounted Bedawin dodging about in the mountains.
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