h limpid waters fill its bed once or
twice a fortnight. Excellent this for health! When the waters appear
men, women, children, dogs, bipeds, quadrupeds, bathe together in
tumultuous promiscuousness, of which I can give no idea, nor recommend
as an example.

Going northwest towards the centre of the city, I came across groups of
dervishes with pointed hats, a big stick in their hands, their hair
straggling in the breeze, stopping occasionally to take their part in a
dance which would not have disgraced the fanatics of the Elysee
Montmartre during a chant, literally vociferated, and accentuated by
the most characteristic steps.

Let us not forget that I went through the book market. There are no
less than twenty-six shops where printed books and manuscripts are
sold, not by weight like tea or by the box like vegetables, but in the
ordinary way. As to the numerous "medresses," the colleges which have
given Bokhara its renown as a university--I must confess that I did not
visit one. Weary and worn I sat down under the elms of the Divanbeghi
quay. There, enormous samovars are continually on the boil, and for a
"tenghe," or six pence three farthings, I refreshed myself with
"shivin," a tea of superior quality which only in the slightest degree
resembles that we consume in Europe, which has already been used, so
they say, to clean the carpets in the Celestial Empire.

That is the only remembrance I retain of the Rome of Turkestan.
Besides, as I was not able to stay a month there, it was as well to
stay there only a few hours.

At half-past ten, accompanied by Major Noltitz, whom I found at the
terminus of the Decauville, I alighted at the railway station, the
warehouses of which are crowded with bales of Bokhariot cotton, and
packs of Mervian wool.

I see at a glance that all my numbers are on the platform, including my
German baron. In the rear of the train the Persians are keeping
faithful guard round the mandarin Yen Lou. It seems that three of our
traveling companions are observing them with persistent curiosity;
these are the suspicious-looking Mongols we picked up at Douchak. As I
pass near them I fancy that Faruskiar makes a signal to them, which I
do not understand. Does he know them? Anyhow, this circumstance rather
puzzles me.

The train is no sooner off than the passengers go to the dining car.
The places next to mine and the major's, which had been occupied since
the start, are now vacant, and the young Ch