We were obliged to take leave of our pleasant steamer friends at Suez. I was very sorry to part with the Crémazy, who hoped we might meet again and promised to write to me from time to time. When it came to saying good-bye to my Australian admirer, he hurt my hand squeezing it and pressing my fingers made me cry, whilst he expressed his despair at parting from me.
We lowered a boat that carried us on shore. When we entered it, my Australian waved his farewell tome and shouted from the deck, “I am so sorry to lose you!”
We had the intention on arriving at Suez to make an excursion along the banks of the Nile, and then to catch the Laos at Port Saïd. When we set foot on African soil, the train for Cairo had already started, and we were obliged to wait patiently until the next day. We set out piano pianissimo through the intense heat to seek rooms at the Hôtel Continental. Suez is in the full Carnival; masked groups walk about the streets. A man dressed like a cook, holding an immense sauce-pan, in which he was stirring with a big spoon a sort of gruel, sprinkled with this nasty mixture all the passers-by, shouting, “Vive la France!” Knowing that he was at our heels, we hastened to the hotel.