d columns. From these pavilions
the most charming views might be obtained of the city and the
surrounding country: Damascus, itself a varied mass of dark green
groves, white minarets, bright gardens, and hooded domes; to the south
and east, at the extremity of its rich plain, the glare of the desert;
to the west the ranges of the Lebanon; while the city was backed on the
north by other mountain regions which Tancred had not yet penetrated.

In the centre of the terrace was a temporary structure of a peculiar
character. It was nearly forty feet long, half as many broad, and
proportionately lofty. Twelve palm trees clustering with ripe fruit,
and each of which seemed to spring from a flowering hedge of myrtles,
supported a roof formed with much artifice of the braided boughs of
trees. These, however, only furnished an invisible framework, from
which were suspended the most beautiful and delicious fruits, citron and
pomegranate, orange, and fig, and banana, and melon, in such thickness
and profusion that they formed, as it were, a carved ceiling of rich
shades and glowing colours, like the Saracenic ceiling of the mansion,
while enormous bunches of grapes every now and then descended like
pendants from the main body of the roof. The spaces between the palm
trees were filled with a natural trellis-work of orange trees in fruit
and blossom, leaving at intervals arches of entrance, whose form was
indicated by bunches of the sweetest and rarest flowers.

Within was a banqueting-table covered with thick white damask silk,
with a border of gold about a foot in breadth, and before each guest was
placed a napkin of the same fashion. The table, however, lacked none
of the conveniences and luxuries and even ornaments of Europe. What
can withstand the united influence of taste, wealth, and commerce? The
choicest porcelain of France, golden goblets chiselled in Bond Street,
and the prototypes of which had perhaps been won at Goodwood or Ascot,
mingled with the rarest specimens of the glass of Bohemia, while the
triumphant blades of Sheffield flashed in that very Syrian city whose
skill in cutlery had once been a proverb. Around the table was a divan
of amber-coloured satin with many cushions, so arranged that the
guests might follow either the Oriental or the European mode of seating
themselves. Such was the bower or tabernacle of Besso of Damascus,
prepared to celebrate the seventh day of his vintage feast.

CHAPTER XLVIII.