begin with," was the
reply, "we are in good condition, and run up and down the stairs like
squirrels. If I had a great establishment, I should feel tied and
weighed down. With a flat and two or three servants one has only to
lock the door and go out." The most noticeable objects in the rooms were
eleven rough deal tables, each covered with writing materials. [276] At
one sat Mrs. Burton in morning neglige, a grey choga--the long, loose
Indian dressing-gown of soft camel's hair--topped by a smoking cap of
the same material. She observed, "I see you are looking at our tables.
Dick likes a separate table for each book, and when he is tired of one
he goes to another." He never, it seems, wrote more than eleven books at
a time, unless stout pamphlets come under that category. Their life was
a peaceful one, except on Fridays, when Mrs. Burton received seventy
bosom and particular friends, and talked to them at the top of her voice
in faulty German, Italian, which she spoke fluently, or slangy English.
[277] In the insipid conversation of this "magpie sanhedrin," "these hen
parties," as he called them, Burton did not join, but went on with his
work as if no one was present. Indeed, far from complaining, he remarked
philosophically that if the rooms had been lower down probably 140
visitors instead of 70 would have looked in. The Burtons usually rose at
4 or 5, and after tea, bread and fruit, gave their morning to study. At
noon they drank a cup of soup, fenced, and went for a swim in the sea.
Burton then took up a heavy iron stick with a silver knob [278] and
walked to the Consulate, which was situated in the heart of the town,
while Mrs. Burton, with her pockets bulging with medicines, and a flask
of water ready for baptism emergencies hanging to her girdle, busied
herself with charitable work, including the promotion of the Society for
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. They generally dined at the table
d'hote of the Hotel de la Ville, and dined well, for, as Burton says
used to "Only fools and young ladies care nothing for the carte." [279]
Having finished their coffee, cigarettes, and kirsch, outside the hotel,
they went home to bed, where, conscious of a good day's work done, they
took their rest merrily. Sometimes they interrupted the routine with
excursions into the surrounding country, of which they both knew every
stock and stone, pre-historic or modern. Of business ability, Burton
had never possessed one iota, and h