any amount of fatigue. His
constitution must originally have been an iron one. Instead of the
Oriental repose which I expected, there was a kind of semi-European,
semi-military stiffness about him, which, however, soon wore off in
conversation. I say advisedly conversation, albeit that he did not
understand a word of French, which was the only language I spoke, and
that I could not catch a word of his. But in spite of Koenig-Bey's
acting the interpreter, it was a conversation between us both. He seemed
to catch the meaning of my words the moment they left my lips, and every
now and then smiled at my remarks. He as it were read the thoughts that
provoked them, and I do not wonder at his having been amused, for I
myself was never so amused in my life. Perhaps you will be, when I tell
you that I was not to see the ladies I had to teach; my instruction was
to be given to the eunuchs, who, in their turn, had to transmit them to
the viceroy's wives and daughters. Of course, I tried to point out the
impossibility of such a system, but Mehemet-Ali shook his head with a
knowing smile. That was the only way he would have his womenkind
initiated into the beauties of Mozart and Mendelssohn. I need not tell
you that the arrangement came to nought."

Nearly all these conversations which I have noted down here, without
much attempt at transition, took place at different times. One day, when
he was relating some experiences of his wanderings through the less busy
haunts of Egypt, I happened to say, "After all, Monsieur David, they did
you good; they inspired you with the themes of your most beautiful
works."

It was a very bitter smile that played on his lips, but only for a
moment; the next his face resumed its usual melancholy expression. "Yes,
they did me good. Do you know what occurred on the eve of the first
performance of 'Le Desert,' on the morrow of which I may say without
undue pride that I found myself famous? Well, I will tell you. But for
Azevedo, I should have gone supperless that night.[29] I met him on the
Boulevards, and I almost forced him to take some tickets, for I was
hungry and desperate. I had been running about that morning to dispose
of some tickets for love or money, for what I feared most was an empty
house. I had sold half a dozen, perhaps, but no one had paid me. Azevedo
said, 'Yes, send me some this afternoon.' 'I can give them to you now,'
I replied, 'for I carry my box office upon me.' Then he understood