It is like a theater. The magic begins, as a prologue, in Tangier, with its intense sky so dear to Matisse. Paul Bowles sits in the cool shades of a café, with conspiracies and intrigues whirling in the background. Then, still under the spell of a Bowles novel rich in mystery, we journey to Rabat or Casablanca, closely followed by the shadow of Humphrey Bogart, his felt hat pulled down over his eyes. Just like in the pre- war years.

In the chic hubbub of the streets, we see hurried businessmen, oil magnates, hollywood tycoons, adventurers and extravagant beauties followed by a crowd of admirers. The flashback goes even further, and on approaching Marrakesh, we may catch a glimpse of the glamorous silhouette of Rita Hayworth, as well as that of the great Orson Welles.

Our luxury stopping point is "La Mamounia", the mythical hotel that stands high above the rest of the city. Times there stands still. In its magical garden, we bow before the Saadian Sultan Sidi Mohammed, who offered the gardens as a wedding present to his son, Mamoun. He bequeathed his names to the palace that was built later in an architectural alchemy, blending oriental and art deco styles.

Here in the hotel, Winston Churchill can be seen, cigar in mouth and wearing an crédible Stetson, entering a marble hall. He is preceded by a troop of porters, whose backs are bent under the weight of crates of his favorite whisky. We find the formidable British statesman later sitting in front of an easel, paintbrush in hand, trying desperately, with infinite patience, to capture in watercolor the delicate contours of a hibiscus flower. Later, he draws Roosevelt aside, under the shadow of the trees, to whisper in his ear a few worldly secrets.

In the distance, a piano is heard; the frail young man trying his hand at new music, inspired by the gnaouas, a haunting melody from antiquity, is Maurice Ravel. And this day dream continues into the present.

It is in Marrakesh that Yves Saint- Laurent developed his taste for colors. Before his stay in the gardens designed by Majorelle, he only expressed himself in somber colors. In the golden shadow of the Koutoubia, he discovered the ocher, tan, turquoise, pink and mauve of the majestic caftans for women.

"In Marrakesh, a man can find everything that he misses in the North", said the singer Jacques Brel. Our princes and princesses of today are stars like Alain Delon, Mireille Darc and Ornella Muti, who come to immerse themselves with the magic needed for their art. Here, sultans and vizirs rivalled one another with their sumptuous palaces, combining marble, onyx and wonderful stones imported at great cost. Their presence so fills these legendary surroundings that visitors today still succumb to the mystery of its magical spell.