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[Illustration: Photo Portrait—Girl in Shawl]
By Norman Douglas
Chapter I
Likely enough, I would not have remained in Gafsa more than a couple ofdays. For it was my intention to go from England straight down to theoases of the Djerid, Tozeur and Nefta, a corner of Tunisia left unexploredduring my last visit to that country—there, where the inland regionsshelve down towards those mysterious depressions, the Chotts, dried-upoceans, they say, where in olden days the fleets of Atlantis rode atanchor….
But there fell into my hands, by the way, a volume that deals exclusivelywith Gafsa—Pierre Bordereau's "La Capsa ancienne: La Gafsa moderne"—and,glancing over its pages as the train wound southwards along sterileriver-beds and across dusty highlands, I became interested in this placeof Gafsa, which seems to have had such a long and eventful history. Evenbefore arriving at the spot, I had come to the correct conclusion that itmust be worth more than a two days' visit.
The book opens thus: One must reach Gafsa by way of Sfax. Undoubtedly,this was the right thing to do; all my fellow-travellers were agreed uponthat point; leaving Sfax by a night train, you arrive at Gafsa in theearly hours of the following morning.