the time we reached Bab Mansur, and the walls of Mulay Ismail were drawn on the moon-washed background of sky as indented, black silhouettes. We knew that behind them lay ruins and crumbling stone, contrasting sadly with the proud boast of the Black Sultan:
"I erected these walls and palaces. Let others destroy them, if they can."
For two centuries men have been destroying the work of the despot, erecting with the stones, marble and mosaics of his buildings their palaces and temples all over Morocco. But Dar Kbira, Dar el-Makhzen, Bab Mansur and Jama still remain, powerful and terrible reminders of the cruel disregard of one despotic man. By them stands also the sarcophagus of Mohammed Ben Aïssa and near it the tomb of the enigmatical ruler himself, whose spirit seems still to haunt these works of his hand, pondering over some new ferocity or sighing sadly and calling hopelessly for Lalla Aziza, the "beloved white gazelle."
