er ramifications of the eastern orographic system. We are nearing
the tableland of the Pamirs. At the same time we continue at normal
speed along this section of a hundred and fifty kilometres which
separates us from Khodjend.

As soon as we are on the move I begin to think of Kinko. His little
love romance has touched me to the heart. This sweetheart who sent
himself off--this other sweetheart who is going to pay the expenses--I
am sure Major Noltitz would be interested in these two turtle doves,
one of which is in a cage; he would not be too hard on this defrauder
of the company, he would be incapable of betraying him. Consequently I
have a great desire to tell him of my expedition into the baggage van.
But the secret is not mine. I must do nothing that might get Kinko into
trouble.

And so I am silent, and to-night I will, if possible, take a few
provisions to my packing case--to my snail in his shell, let us say.
And is not the young Roumanian like a snail in his shell, for it is as
much as he can do to get out of it?

We reach Khodjend about three in the afternoon. The country is fertile,
green, carefully cultivated. It is a succession of kitchen gardens,
which seem to be well-kept immense fields sown with clover, which yield
four or five crops a year. The roads near the town are bordered with
long rows of mulberry trees, which diversify the view with eccentric
branches.

Again, this pair of cities, old and new. Both of them had only thirty
thousand inhabitants in 1868 and they have from forty-five to fifty
thousand now. Is it the influence of the surroundings which produces
the increase of the birth rate? Is the province affected by the
prolific example of the Celestial Empire? No! It is the progress of
trade, the concentration of merchants of all nations onto these new
markets.

Our halt at Khodjend has lasted three hours. I have made my
professional visit and walked on the banks of the Syr-Dana. This river,
which bathes the foot of the high mountains of Mogol-Taou, is crossed
by a bridge, the middle section of which gives passage to ships of
moderate tonnage.

The weather is very warm. The town being protected by its shelter of
mountains, the breezes of the steppe cannot reach it, and it is one of
the hottest places in Turkestan.

I met the Caternas, delighted with their excursion. The actor said to
me in a tone of the best humor:

"Never shall I forget Khodjend, Monsieur Claudius."

"And why will y