e whole circumstance just as if it were yesterday; for
we women could peep into the place where the men were assembled, and our
curiosity led us to listen to what they said. The mirakhor and two other
Turks were seated; the others stood at the entrance of the tent, resting
on their arms. My father placed himself at some distance, on the carpet,
with his hands before him, and his feet tucked under him, looking very
humble, but at the same time casting his eyes very sharply around him.

'"You are welcome, and you have brought happiness with you," exclaimed
my father.

'"Happily met," answered the mirakhor; "it is long since we have seen
each other"; and when they had repeated these and similar sorts of
compliments over and over again, they relapsed into silence; their
pipes, which they smoked until the place was darkened with the fume,
holding them in lieu of conversation.

'"Our master, the pasha," said the mirakhor, "sends you health and
peace; he loves you, and says that you are one of his best and oldest
friends. _Mashallah!_ praise be to God! You are a good man; all Curds
are good; their friends are our friends, and their enemies our enemies."

'An old Turk, who was standing, the foremost of the attendants,
applauded this speech by a sort of low growl; and then my father,
shrugging up his shoulders, and pressing his hands on his knees,
answered: "I am the Pasha's slave; I am your slave; you do me much
honour. _Il hem dillah,_ thanks to heaven, we eat our bread in peace
under the Pasha's shade, and put our caps on one side without fear. God
give him plenty."

'After a short pause: "The business of our coming, Okous Aga," said the
mirakhor, "is this:--The Wahabi (curses be on their beards!) have sent a
deputation to our chief, requiring from him the mare upon which the son
of their sheikh was mounted at the time that he was killed. Although
they say that his blood is on our heads, and that nothing but the
pasha's life, or that of his son, can ever redeem it; yet that subject
they will for the present waive, in order to regain possession of her.
They say, she has the most perfect pedigree of any in Arabia; that from
generation to generation her descent is to be traced to the mare which
the Prophet rode on his flight from Medina; and, in order to regain her,
they offer to throw money on the board until the pasha shall say stop.
Now all the world knows that you are the brave he, who overcame and slew
the sheikh's son