onstructing a method for our peregrinations. It
was he, and not I, who suggested the direction of our expeditions, and I
noticed that he chose certain places on certain days. On Monday, for
instance, he never failed to propose a visit to the bazaars, on Tuesday
we generally went up the Bosphorus, on Wednesday into Stamboul. On
Friday afternoons, when the weather was fine, we used to ride out to the
Sweet Waters of Europe; for Friday is the Mussulman's day of rest, and
on that day all who are able love to go out to the Kiat-hane--the
"paper-mill,"--where they pass the afternoon in driving and walking,
eating sweetmeats, smoking, drinking coffee, watching gypsy girls dance,
or listening to the long-winded tales of professional story-tellers.
Almost every day had its regular excursion, and it was clear to me that
he always chose the place where on that day of the week there was likely
to be the greatest crowd.

Meanwhile Balsamides, in whose house I continued to live, alternately
laughed at me for believing Paul's story, and expressed in the next
breath a hope that Alexander might yet be found. He had been to Santa
Sophia, and had ascertained that the other staircase was usually opened
on the nights when the mosque was illuminated, for the convenience of
the men employed in lighting the lamps, and this confirmed his theory
about the direction taken by Alexander when he left the gallery. But
here all trace ceased again, and Balsamides was almost ready to give up
the search, when an incident occurred which renewed our energy and hope,
and which had the effect of rousing Paul to the greatest excitement.

We were wandering under the gloomy arches of the vast bazaar one day,
and had reached the quarter where the Spanish Jews have their shops and
collect their wonderful mass of valuables, chiefly antiquities, offering
them for sale in their little dens, and ever hungry for a bargain. We
strolled along, smoking and chatting as we went, when a Jew named
Marchetto, with whom I had had dealings in former days and who knew me
very well, came suddenly out into the broad covered way, and invited us
into his shop. He said he had an object of rare beauty which he was sure
I would buy. We went in, and sat down on a low divan against the wall.
The sides of the little shop were piled to the ceiling with neatly
folded packages of stuffs, embroideries, and prayer carpets. In one
corner stood a shabby old table with a glass case, under which v