ay beside them. He was very tired
after his long tramp in the hot streets, but he could not sleep. Angrily
he tossed from side to side and closed his eyes tightly; but it was no
good, sleep would not come.

At midnight he heard a call to prayer chanted from the minaret of a tiny
mosque in the neighbourhood. The muezzin's voice irritated him. He
did not wish to pray, and he did want to sleep. He swore that it was
insanity for these fools of Mohammedans to declare that prayer was
better than sleep.

Then the thoughts that had agitated him during the walk returned to him.
The Rue des Soeurs was still noisy with merry-makers, and it seemed to
him that if he could only join them he would be happy. But he had no
money, and one can do nothing without money!

Then there came back to him the face of the Englishman he had seen
talking to the violinist of the Paradiso. He hated the man because he
was ugly and rich. These English were all rich, and yet they seemed to
him a miserable race, mere ignorant bullies. He remembered how often he
had come to the help of the English travellers who filled Egypt. Why had
he, he asked himself, for the sake of a miserable reward, prevented them
being cheated, when he, with all his talents, was condemned to starve?
Even his child, he thought, would grow to hate him if he remained poor.
He must get money. Amos would have to lend him some. The Jews were
unpopular among the Greeks; it were wise to keep on good terms with
them, as Amos would find out.

At last he fell asleep.

In the morning his troubles began again. There was no coffee, and only a
little Arab bread, and when that was done they must starve if they could
not get some money. Gregorio tore off a bit of bread and ate it slowly,
looking at his wife, who sat weeping beside him.

"I shall go to Amos," he said, firmly.

"Ah, yes, to Amos," Xantippe answered quietly; "but it will be no good."

"Why no good?"

"Because you owe him money, and he will give you no more till he is
paid."

"But we cannot pay him. He must let us have some. If not--" and Gregorio
raised threatening.

His wife smiled sadly and kissed him.

"You will not frighten Amos, my love. When I told him the child had been
ill, he only laughed."

"When was that?"

"Yesterday."

"Then he had been here?"

"He came last night to ask for his money. I told him we had none, and
he laughed and said we must get some. He told me I might get some if I
cared to. He sa