The Natchalnik received us in the Konak of Gospody Iefrem, the brother
of Milosh, and our interview was in no respect different from a usual
Turkish visit. We then descended to the street; the sun an hour before
its meridian shone brightly, but the centre of the broad street was
very muddy, from the late rain; so we picked our steps with some care,
until we arrived in the vicinity of the bridge, when I perceived the
eunuch-looking coffee-keeper navigating the slough, accompanied by a
Mussulman in a red checked shawl turban.--"Here is a man that wishes
to make your acquaintance," said Eunuch-face.--"I heard you were
paying visits yesterday in the Turkish quarter," said the strange
figure, saluting me. I returned the salute, and addressed him in
Arabic; he answered in a strong Egyptian accent. However, as the depth
of the surrounding mud, and the glare of the sun, rendered a further
colloquy somewhat inconvenient, we postponed our meeting until the
evening. On our way to the Bishop, I asked the collector what that man
was doing there.
_Collector_. "His history is a singular one.
Pages:
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107