but a moment's reflection told him that he need have no
anxiety on this score. He understood the Wanderer's nature too well to
suspect him of wishing to convey a covert hint instead of saying openly
what was in his mind.

"Taste one of these oranges," he said, by way of avoiding an answer.
"they have just come from Smyrna." The Wanderer smiled as he took the
proffered fruit.

"So that unless you have a serious objection to my presence," he said,
continuing his former speech, "you will have me as a guest so long as
Israel Kafka is here."

Keyork Arabian saw no immediate escape.

"My dear friend!" he exclaimed with alacrity. "If you are really in
earnest, I am as really delighted. So far from taking your distrust ill,
I regard it as a providentially fortunate bias of your mind, since it
will keep us together for a time. You will be the only loser. You see
how simply I live."

"There is a simplicity which is the extremest development of refined
sybarism," the Wanderer said, smiling again. "I know your simplicity of
old. It consists of getting precisely what you want, and in producing
local earthquakes and revolutions when you cannot get it. Moreover you
want what is good--to the taste, at least."

"There is something in that," answered Keyork with a merry twinkle in
his eye. "Happiness is a matter of speculation. Comfort is a matter of
fact. Most men are uncomfortable, because they do not know what they
want. If you have tastes, study them. If you have intelligence, apply it
to the question of gratifying your tastes. Consult yourself first--and
nobody second. Consider this orange--I am fond of oranges and they
suit my constitution admirably. Consider the difficulty I have had in
procuring it at this time of year--not in the wretched condition in
which they are sold in the market, plucked half green in Spain or Italy
and ripened on the voyage in the fermenting heat of the decay of those
which are already rotten--but ripe from the tree and brought to me
directly by the shortest and quickest means possible. Consider this
orange, I say. Do you vainly imagine that if I had but two or three like
it I would offer you one?"

"I would not be so rash as to imagine anything of the kind, my dear
Keyork. I know you very well. If you offer me one it is because you have
a week's supply at least."

"Exactly," said Keyork. "And a few to spare, because they will only
keep a week as I like them, and because I would no more run the