Monday. We ride along the desert, which subsides and falls over the valley - sun, fresh air - the pyramids of Sakkara are much smaller, and more ruined than the pyramids of Giza. In Sakkara we lost our luggage. I stay in the middle of the village - palm trees - while Max wanders around at full gallop to find our people. A few Arabs were smoking at the foot of an earth wall - yard surrounded by a fence of dry reeds - hens here and there… Our servant in a small blue blouse (he was running with elbows pulled backwards, like a bird, and the head forward), with a rope above it and a small white turban on his head, walked my sweating horse. Some Arabs direct us back to the road and we reach Memphis. Camping on a sort of small headland with palm trees, at the edge of a large pond, remains from the flood; on the left, houses spread and a white holy tomb; in the background, flat view, green.