We now, by a narrow, steep, and winding path cut on the face of a
precipice, descended to Sokol, and passing through a rotting wooden
bazaar, entered a wretched khan, and ascending a sort of staircase,
were shown into a room with dusty mustabahs; a greasy old cushion,
with the flock protruding through its cover, was laid down for me, but
I, with polite excuses, preferred the bare board to this odious
flea-hive. The more I declined the cushion, the more pressing became
the khan-keeper that I should carry away with me some reminiscence of
Sokol. Finding that his upholstery was not appreciated, the
khan-keeper went to the other end of the apartment, and began to make
a fire for coffee; for this being Ramadan time, all the fires were
out, and most of the people were asleep. Meanwhile the captain sent
for the Disdar Aga. I offered to go into the citadel, and pay him a
visit, but the captain said, "You have no idea how sensitive these
people are: even now they are forming all sorts of conjectures as to
the object of your visit; we must, therefore, take them quietly in
their own way, and do nothing to alarm them.
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