woman accosted me. "You are welcome," said I.

"Is your humour good?" said she.

"It is good," replied I.

She sat down by me, and after a quarter of an hour she continued: "God
is great," said she.

"And Mahomet is his Prophet," replied I. "In the name of Allah, what do
you wish?"

"Where is the holy man? I have money to give into his charge. May I not
see him?"

"He is at his devotions--but what is that? Am not I the same? Do I not
watch when he prayeth--Inshallah--please God, we are the same. Give me
the bag."

"Here it is," said she, pulling out the money: "seven hundred sequins,
my daughter's marriage-portion; but there are bad men, who steal, and
there are good men, whom we can trust. Say I not well?"

"It is well said," replied I; "and God is great."

"You will find the money right," said she. "Count it."

I counted it, and returned it into the goat-skin bag. "It is all right.
Leave me, woman, for I must go in."

The old woman left me, returning thanks to Allah that her money was
safe, but from certain ideas running in my mind, I very _much doubted
the fact_. I sat down full of doubts. I doubted if the old woman had
come honestly by the money; and whether I should give it to the head
dervish. I doubted whether I ought to retain it for myself, and whether
I might not come to mischief. I also had my doubts----

* * * * *

"I have no doubt," interrupted Mustapha, "but that you kept it for
yourself. Say--is it not so?"

* * * * *

Even so did my doubts resolve into that fact. I settled it in my mind,
that seven hundred sequins, added to about four hundred still in my
possession, would last some time, and that I was tired of the life of a
howling dervish. I therefore set up one last long final howl to let my
senior know that I was present, and then immediately became absent. I
hastened to the bazaar, and purchasing here and there--at one place a
vest, at another a shawl, and at another a turban--I threw off my dress
of a dervish, hastened to the bath, and after a few minutes under the
barber, came out like a butterfly from its dark shell. No one would have
recognised in the spruce young Turk, the filthy dervish. I hastened to
Constantinople, where I lived gaily, and spent my money; but I found
that to mix in the world, it is necessary not only to have an attaghan,
but also to have the courage to use it; and in several broils which took