to give that sergeant any money. I had made thy name so great that but to look on thee was fee sufficient for a poor, lean dog like him.'
He then was silent for so long a while that I imagined he had gone to sleep. But, suddenly, he whispered once again:
'O my dear lord, forgive me the disturbance, but hast thou our revolver safe?'
'By Allah, yes! Here, ready to my hand.'
'Good. But it would be better for the future that I should bear our whip and our revolver. I have made thy name so great that thou shouldst carry nothing.'
CHAPTER IVToC
THE COURTEOUS JUDGE
We were giving a dinner-party on that day to half a dozen Turkish officers, and, when he brought me in my cup of tea at seven-thirty a.m., Rashîd informed me that our cook had been arrested. The said cook was a decent Muslim, but hot-tempered, and something of a blood in private life. At six a.m., as he stood basking in the sunlight in our doorway, his eyes had fallen on some Christian youths upon their way to college, in European clothes, with new kid gloves and silver-headed canes. Maddened with a sense of outrage by that horrid sight, he had attacked the said youths furiously with a wooden ladle, putting them to flight, and chasing them all down the long acacia avenue, through two suburbs into the heart of the city, where their miserable cries for help brought the police upon him. Rashîd, pursuing in vain attempts to calm the holy warrior, had seen him taken into custody still flourishing the ladle; but could tell me nothing of his after fate, having at that point deemed it prudent to retire, lest he, too, might be put in prison by mistake.
It was sad. As soon as I was up and dressed, I wrote to Hamdi Bey, the chief of our intended visitors, informing him of the mishap which would prevent our giving him and his comrades a dinner at all worthy of their merit. By the time that I had finished dressing, Rashîd had found a messenger to whom the note was given with an order to make haste. He must have run the whole way there and back, for, after little more than half an hour, he stood before me, breathless and with streaming brow, his bare legs dusty to the knee. Rashîd had then gone out to do some marketing. The runner handed me a note. It said:
'Why mention such a trifling detail? We shall, of course, be charmed with anything you set before us. It is for friendship, not for food, we come!'
There was a postscript:—
'Why not go and see the judge?'
Suleymân was in the room. He was an old acquaintance, a man of decent birth, but poor, by trade a dragoman, who had acquired a reputation for unusual wisdom. When he had nothing else to do, he came to me unfailingly, wherever I might chance to be established or encamped. He was sitting cross-legged in a corner, smoking his narghîleh, capriciously illumined by thin slants of light, alive with motes, from the Venetian blinds. He seized upon the postscript, crying:—
'It is good advice. Why not, indeed? Let us approach the judge.'
Therewith he coiled the tube of his narghîleh carefully around the bowl thereof, and, rising with the same deliberation, threw upon his shoulders a white dust-cloak, then looked at me, and questioned: 'Are you ready?'
'But I do not know the judge.'
'No more do I. But that, my dear, is a disease which can be remedied.'
Without much trouble we found out the judge's house. A servant told us that his Honour had already started for the court. We took a carriage and pursued his Honour. At the court we made inquiry of the crowd of witnesses—false witnesses for hire—who thronged the entrance. The judge, we heard, had not yet taken his seat. We should be sure to find his Honour in the coffee-shop across the road. One of the false witnesses conducted us to the said coffee-shop and pointed out our man. Together with his clerk and certain advocates, one of whom read aloud the morning news, the judge sat underneath a vine arbour in pleasant shade. He smiled. His hands were clasped upon a fair round belly.
Suleymân, his dust-cloak billowing, strolled forward coolly, and presented me as 'one of the chief people of the Franks.' The company arose and made us welcome, placing stools for our convenience.
'His Highness comes to thee for justice, O most righteous judge. He has been wronged,' observed Suleymân, dispassionately.
The judge looked much concerned. 'What is the case?' he asked.
'Our cook is snatched from us,' was the reply, 'and to-night we have invited friends to dinner.'
'Is he a good cook?' asked the judge, with feeling.
'If your Excellency will restore him to us, and then join us at the meal——'
'How can I be of service in this matter?'
I motioned to Suleymân to tell the story, which he did so well that all the company were soon in fits of laughter.
The judge looked through the cause list till he found the case, putting a mark against it on the paper.
'How can we dine to-night without a cook?' I sighed, despairingly.
'Fear nothing,' said the judge. 'He shall be with you in an hour. Come, O my friends, we must to business! It grows late.'
The judge took leave of me with much politeness.
'Now,' said Suleymân, when they were gone, 'let us go into the court and watch the course of justice.'
We crossed the narrow street to an imposing portal. Suleymân whispered to a soldier there on guard, who smiled and bade us enter, with a gracious gesture.
The hall inside was crowded. Only after much exertion could we see the dais. There sat the judge, and there stood our lamented cook, the picture of dejection. A soldier at his side displayed the wooden ladle. The Christian dandies whom he had assaulted were giving their account of the adventure volubly, until his Honour, with a heavy frown, bade them be silent. Then they cowered.
'Be careful what you say,' the judge enjoined. 'You have not hesitated to impute the anger of this cook to religious fanaticism. The Nazarenes are much too ready to bring such a charge against the Muslims, forgetful that there may be other causes of annoyance. Nay, many of the charges brought have proved upon investigation to be altogether groundless. You Nazarenes are often insolent in your demeanour. Confiding in the favour of the foreign consuls, foreign missionaries, you occasionally taunt and irritate, even revile, the Muslims. Now, even supposing your account of this affair to be correct—which I much doubt, for, on the one hand, I behold a wooden ladle of no weight; while, on the other, there are two fine walking-sticks with silver heads'—one of the Christian youths let fall his stick in trepidation—'and you are two, while this poor cook is one. Even supposing what you say is true, are you certain that nothing in your appearance, conversation, or behaviour gave him cause for anger? I incline to conjecture that you must have flouted him, or uttered, it may be, some insult to his creed.'
'He beat us for no reason, and most grievously,' moaned one of the assailed. Such language from a Muslim judge in a court filled with Muslims made the two Christians tremble in their shoes.
'We
