uth, and he himself sunk upon
the carpet.

CHAPTER LX.

_The Road to Bethany_

BESSO is better,' said the Consul Pasqualigo to Barizy of the Tower, as
he met him on a December morning in the Via Dolorosa.

'Yes, but he is by no means well,' quickly rejoined Barizy. 'The
physician of the English prince told me----'

'He has not seen the physician of the English prince!' screamed
Pasqualigo, triumphantly.

'I know that,' said Barizy, rallying; 'but the physician of the English
prince says for flesh-wounds----'

'There are no flesh-wounds,' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 'They have all
healed; 'tis an internal shock.'

'For internal shocks,' said Barizy of the Tower, 'there is nothing like
rosemary stewed with salt, and so keep on till it simmers.'

'That is very well for a bruise,' said the Consul Pasqualigo.

'A bruise is a shock,' said Barizy of the Tower.

'Besso should have remained at Aleppo,' said the Consul.

'Besso always comes to Jerusalem when he is indisposed,' said Barizy;
'as he well says, 'tis the only air that can cure him; and, if he
cannot be cured, why, at least, he can be buried in the Valley of
Je-hoshaphat.'

'He is not at Jerusalem,' said the Consul Pasqualigo, maliciously.

'How do you mean?' said Barizy, somewhat confused. 'I am now going to
inquire after him, and smoke some of his Latakia.'

'He is at Bethany,' said the Consul.

'Hem!' said Barizy, mysteriously. 'Bethany! Will that marriage come off
now, think you? I always fancy, when, eh?----'

'She will not marry till her father has recovered,' said the Consul.

'This is a curious story,' said Barizy. 'The regular troops beaten by
the Kurds.'

'They were not Kurds,' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 'They were Russians
in disguise. Some cannon have been taken, which were cast at St.
Petersburg; and, besides, there is a portfolio of state papers found on
a Cossack, habited as a Turkman, which betrays all. The documents are to
be published in numbers, with explanatory commentaries. Consul-General
Laurella writes from Damascus that the Eastern question is more alive
than ever. We are on the eve of great events.'

'You don't say so?' said Barizy of the Tower, losing his presence
of mind from this overwhelming superiority of information. 'I always
thought so. Palmerston will never rest till he gets Jerusalem.'

'The English must have markets,' said the Consul Pasqualigo.

'Very just,' said Barizy of the Tower. 'There wi