wall, a huge battlement, ancient and weathered, like an
unscalable cliff, and going through its gate was entering the shadows
of a cave. Out of the glare of the sun I went into the gloom of deep,
narrow, and mysterious passages. The sun was only on the parapets and
casements, which leaned towards each other confidentially, and left
only a ragged line of light above. These alley-ways were crowded with
camels, asses, and strange men. An understanding and sneering camel in
a narrow passage will force you to take what chance there is of escape
in desecrating a mosque, while Moslems watch you as the only Christian
there, or of going under its slobbering mouth and splay feet. It does
not care which.

It was market-day for Sfax. There were little piles of vivid fruit
beside white walls where a broad ray of sunlight found them. There were
silversmiths at work, tent-makers, and the makers of camel harness. The
tanners had laid skins for us to walk over. There were exotic smells. I
went exploring the crooked turnings with an indifference which was
studied. I was getting an interesting time, but was distinctly
conscious of eyes, a ceaseless stream of eyes that floated by, watchful
though making no sign. Several times I found myself jostled with some
roughness. It occurred to me that I had heard on the ship that Sfax was
the only town which had offered resistance to the French; its men have
a fine reputation throughout Tunisia, which they do something now and
then to maintain, in consequence. They certainly appeared a sturdy and
virile lot. They were not listless, like the Arabs of Algeria, who have
nothing to show for themselves but the haughty and aloof bearing of the
proud but beaten.

Having discovered that the enemy was vulnerable though strong, the men
of Sfax go through the day now with the directed activity of those who
once had got the worst of it, but have a hope of doing better next
time. They gave me a lively and adventurous scene. They moved with
silent and stealthy quickness. Their eyes glanced sideways from under
their cowls. Their hands were hidden under their jibbahs. A few of them
stared with the hate of the bereft. It is not possible to face
everybody in a press which moves in all directions, and I was the only
European who was there.

Passing a mosque, where I noticed the Moslems had attempted, but had
not completed, the obliteration of some representations of birds,--so
the mosque was once, evidently, a pla