ad-house, he cried. Another declared that without
bedding, doctor, or medicines, shut up here until the end of the war,
probably, they must at least have food--that was a need "primordial!"

Another stood apart, whacking his chest and addressing the empty air,
"C'est moi, c'est moi, qui n'a pas d'argent!"--it was he who had no
money and nothing to cover him, and what did they want him to do? If he
had come down to be shot at, well and good, but if he was to be frozen
and starved by inches...

Philip smoothed them down as best he could and returned to invite the
governor's secretary to stay for dinner, a repast for which Hassan, the
embassy khavass who accompanied the expedition, had procured, as he put
it, "some fresh eggies from a nice little man."

The bey, who, that morning, had leaned toward the French, now warmed to
America. The French were enlightened, he said, but without morals, the
English civilized but jealous; if he had any sons he would send them to
America, the only place where young men were both civilized and properly
"serieux." In the midst of these amiable speculations it was suggested
that, in view of the difficulty of getting mattresses, the government
might even requisition them. The suggestion drew a regretful sigh from
the bey, for Turkey was a constitutional country, he said, the shops and
houses were closed and their owners gone, and there was no way in which
such a thing could be done.

In addition to Hassan's eggies, Philip's Man Friday, the incomparable
Levy, had constructed some rice puddings, and it was in despair that he
announced, just before they were to be served, that two had "gone by the
cats"! We had, indeed, by this time attracted most of the cats in
Gallipoli. They streaked through the rooms like chain lightning, and in
the dead of night went galloping over the piano keyboard with sounds so
blood-curdling that Suydam put his mattress on the sofa and his
sleeping-bag on top of that, and, shutting himself in, defied them. The
incomparable Levy was Italian by his birth and cheerfulness, Jewish on
his father's side, Turkish by the fez he wore and a life spent in
guiding strangers about Constantinople. He had the face of a dean of a
diplomatic corps or one of those comfortable old gentlemen in spats who
have become fixtures in some city club.

It was his employer's humor to befriend and defend him in private, but
to his face assume, with the most delicate irony, that this marve