ith white and blue tiles, of
the finest workmanship, resembling a mosaic of ivory and lapis lazuli.
Some of the chambers seem to be inhabited, for two old men with white
beards lay in the shade, and were not a little startled by our sudden
appearance.

We returned to the great mosque, which we had visited on the evening of
our arrival, and listened for some time to the voice of a mollah who was
preaching an afternoon sermon to a small and hungry congregation. We then
entered the court before the tomb of Hazret Mevlana. It was apparently
forbidden ground to Christians, but as the Dervishes did not seem to
suspect us we walked about boldly, and were about to enter, when an
indiscretion of my companion frustrated our plans. Forgetting his assumed
character, he went to the fountain and drank, although it was no later
than the _asser_, or afternoon prayer. The Dervishes were shocked and
scandalized by this violation of the fast, in the very court-yard of their
holiest mosque, and we judged it best to retire by degrees. We sent this
morning to request an interview with the Pasha, but he had gone to pass
the day in a country palace, about three hours distant. It is a still,
hot, bright afternoon, and the silence of the famished populace disposes
us to repose. Our view is bounded by the mud walls of the khan, and I
already long for the freedom of the great Karamanian Plain. Here, in the
heart of Asia Minor, all life seems to stagnate. There is sleep
everywhere, and I feel that a wide barrier separates me from the living
world.

We have been detained here a whole day, through a chain of accidents, all
resulting from the rascality of our muleteers on leaving Aleppo. The lame
horse they palmed upon us was unable to go further, so we obliged them to
buy another animal, which they succeeded in getting for 350 piastres. We
advanced the money, although they were still in our debt, hoping to work
our way through with the new horse, and thus avoid the risk of loss or
delay. But this morning at sunrise Hadji Youssuf comes with a woeful face
to say that the new horse has been stolen in the night, and we, who are
ready to start, must sit down and wait till he is recovered. I suspected
another trick, but when, after the lapse of three hours, Francois found
the hadji sitting on the ground, weeping, and Achmet beating his breast,
it seemed probable that the story was true. All search for the horse being
vain, Francois went with them to the s