All the rocks of
the kingdom had stained their cotton shirts, and their vests preserved a
sample of the different soils on which they had reposed. Their hands,
their faces, and even their moustachios were of a reddish-gray, like the
soil which supports them. Every animal is colored according to its abode
and its habits: the foxes of Greenland are of the color of snow; lions,
of the desert; partridges, of the furrow; Greek brigands, of
the highway.

The chief of the little troop which had made us prisoners was
distinguished by no outward mark. Perhaps, however, his face, his hands,
and his clothes were richer in dust than those of his comrades. He
leaned toward us from the height of his tall figure, and examined us so
closely that I felt the grazing of his moustachios. You would have
pronounced him a tiger, who smells of his prey before tasting it. When
his curiosity was satisfied, he said to Dimitri, "Empty your pockets!"

Dimitri did not give him cause to repeat the order: he threw down before
him a knife, a tobacco-pouch, and three Mexican dollars, which compose a
sum of about sixteen francs.

"Is that all?" demanded the brigand.

"Yes, brother."

"You are the servant?"

"Yes, brother."

"Take back one dollar. You must not return to the city without money."

Dimitri haggled. "You could well allow me two," said he: "I have two
horses below; they are hired from the riding-school; I shall have to pay
for the day."

"You will explain to Zimmerman that we have taken your money from you."

"And if he wishes to be paid, notwithstanding?"

"Answer that he is lucky enough to see his horses again."

"He knows very well that you do not take horses. What would you do with
them in the mountains?"

"Enough! What is this big raw-boned animal next you?"

I answered for myself: "An honest German, whose spoils will not enrich
you."

"You speak Greek well. Empty your pockets."

I deposited on the road a score of francs, my tobacco, my pipe, and my
handkerchief.

"What is that?" asked the grand inquisitor.

"A handkerchief."

"For what purpose?"

"To wipe my nose."

"Why did you tell me that you were poor? It is only milords who wipe
their noses with handkerchiefs. Take off the box which you have behind
your back. Good! Open it!"

My box contained some plants, a book, a knife, a little package of
arsenic, a gourd nearly empty, and the remnants of my breakfast, which
kindled a look of covetousness in the eye