s place. He continued to talk with the Jew for a few
minutes, and then slowly rose from his seat.

"I see you have business with this gentleman," he said. "I have
something to do in the bazaar. I will return in half an hour."

The Lala seemed delighted, and politely made way for Gregorios to pass,
but Marchetto of course protested loudly that the negro's business could
wait. He accompanied Gregorios to the door, and with many inclinations
stood looking after him for a few moments. At a little distance
Gregorios pretended to be attracted by something exposed for sale, and,
pausing, looked furtively back. The Jew had gone in again. Then
Balsamides returned and entered a shop almost opposite to Marchetto's,
kept by another Spanish Hebrew of Saloniki, who made a specialty of
selling shawls,--a smart young fellow, with beady black eyes.

"Good morning, Abraham," he said. "Have you manufactured any new Kashmir
shawls out of old rags of borders and French imitations since I saw
you?"

Abraham smiled pleasantly, and began to unfold his wares. Before many
minutes the sound of angry voices was heard outside. Gregorios had
ensconced himself in a corner, whence he could see what went on without
being seen. The quarrelers were Marchetto and the Lala.

"Dog of a Jew!" screamed the black man in his high, cracked voice. "Will
you rob me, and then turn me out of your filthy den? You shall suffer
for it, you Saloniki beast!"

"Dog yourself, and son of a dog!" bellowed Marchetto, his big face
growing fiery red as he blocked the doorway with his bulky shoulders.
"Behold the gratitude of this vile wretch!" he cried, as though
addressing an audience. "Look at this insatiate jackal, this pork-eater,
this defiler of his father's grave! Oh! beware of touching what is
black, for the filth will surely rub off!"

Exasperated at the Jew's eloquent abuse, the Lala tried to push him back
into the shop, flourishing his light cane in his right hand. In a moment
a crowd collected, and the epithets of the combatants were drowned
amidst the jeers and laughter of the by-standers, delighted at seeing
the dandy keeper of a great harem in the clutches of the sturdy
Marchetto.

Abraham looked out, and then turned back to his customer.

"It is Selim," he said with a chuckle. "He has been trying to cheat
Marchetto again."

"Again?" repeated Gregorios, who had at last attained his end. "And who
is Selim, Abraham?"

"Selim? Everybody in the bazaar kn