oot, O chief!" Presently you see a
minaret--there is always a minaret somewhere; but it is not always easy
to find the mosque to which it belongs, hidden, perhaps, as it is,
behind other buildings in the crowded labyrinth. At length you observe a
door with a dab or two of the well-known Saracenic honeycomb-work above
it; instantly you dismount, climb the steps, and look in. You are almost
sure to find treasures, either fragments of the pearly Cairo mosaic, or
a wonderful ceiling, or gilded Kufic (old Arabian text) inscriptions and
arabesques, or remains of the ancient colored glass which changes its
tint hour by hour. Best of all, sometimes you find a space open to the
sky, with a fountain in the centre, the whole surrounded by arcades of
marble columns adorned with hanging lamps (or, rather, with the bronze
chains which once carried the lamps), and with suspended ostrich
eggs--the emblems of good-luck. One day, when my donkey was making his
way through a dilapidated region, I came upon a mosque so small that it
seemed hardly more than a base for its exquisite minaret, which towered
to an unusual height above it. Of course I dismounted. The little mosque
was open; but as it was never visited by strangers, it possessed no
slippers, and without coverings of some kind it was impossible that
unsanctified shoes, such as mine, should touch its matted floor; the
bent, ancient guardian glared at me fiercely for the mere suggestion.
One sees sometimes (even in 1890) in the eyes of old men sitting in the
mosques the original spirit of Islam shining still. Once their religion
commanded the sword; they would like to grasp it again, if they could.
It was suggested that the matting might, for a backsheesh, be rolled up
and put away, as the place was small. But the stern old keeper remained
inflexible. Then the offer was made that so many piasters--ten (that is,
fifty cents)--would be given to the blind. Now the blind are sacred in
Cairo; this offer, therefore, was successful; all the matting was
carefully rolled and stacked in a corner, the three or four Muslims
present withdrew to the door, and the unbeliever was allowed to enter.
She found herself in a temple of color which was incredibly rich. The
floor was of delicate marble, and every inch of the walls was covered
with a mosaic of porphyry and jasper, adorned with gilded inscriptions
and bands of Kufic text; the tall pulpit, made of mahogany-colored wood,
was carved from top to bo