, what was a man to do
while the dogs inside were snarling? Were the thongs for the correction
of persons lacking understanding? Why, yes; everybody knew their old
saying, "A hint to the wise, a blow to the fool."

A bunch of great keys rattled, the low doorway was thrown open, Israel
stooped and went in, the door closed behind him, the footsteps of the
guard died away, and the twang of the ginbri began again.

The prison was dark and noisome, some sixty feet long by half as many
broad, supported by arches resting on rotten pillars, lighted only by
narrow clefts at either hand, exuding damp from its walls, dropping
moisture from its roof, its air full of vermin, and its floor reeking of
filth. And only less horrible than the prison itself was the condition
of the prisoners. Nearly all wore iron fetters on their legs, and some
were shackled to the pillars. At one side a little group of them--they
were Shereefs from Wazzan--were conversing eagerly and gesticulating
wildly; and at the other side a larger company--they were Jews from
Fez--were languidly twisting palmetto leaves into the shape of baskets.
Four Berbers at the farther end were playing cards, and two Arabs that
were chained to a column near the door squatted on the ground with a
battered old draughtboard between them. From both groups of players
came loud shouts and laughter and a running fire of expostulation and
of indignant and sarcastic comment. Down went the cards with triumphant
bangs, and the moves of the "dogs" were like lightning. First a mocking
voice: "_You_ call yourself a player! There!--there!--there!" Then a
meek, piping tone: "So--so--verily, you are my master. Well, let us
praise Allah for your wisdom." But soon a wild burst of irony: "You are
like him who killed the dog and fell into the river. See! thus I teach
you to boast over your betters! I shave your beard! There!--there!--and
there!"

In the middle of the reeking floor, so placed that the thin shaft of
light from the clefts at the ends might fall on them--a barber-doctor
was bleeding a youth from a vein in the arm. "We're all having it done,"
he was saying. "It's good for the internals. I did it to a shipload of
pilgrims once." A wild-looking creature sat in a corner--he was a saint,
a madman, of the sect of the Darkaoa--rocking himself to and fro, and
crying "Allah! All-lah! All-l-lah! All-l-l-lah!" Near to this person
a haggard old man of the Grega sect was shaking and dancing at hi