he intervention of a glass is delicious. Omar goes to market
every morning with a donkey--I went too, and was much amused--and cooks,
and in the evening goes out with me if I want him. I told him I had
recommended him highly, and hoped he would get good employment; but he
declares that he will go with no one else so long as I come to Egypt,
whatever the difference of wages may be. 'The bread I eat with you is
sweet'--a pretty little unconscious antithesis to Dante. I have been
advising his brother Hajjee Ali to start a hotel at Thebes for invalids,
and he has already set about getting a house there; there is _one_. Next
winter there will be steamers twice a week--to Assouan! Juvenal's
distant Syene, where he died in banishment. My old washerwoman sent me a
fervent entreaty through Omar that I would dine with her one day, since I
had made Cairo delightful with my presence. If one will only devour
these people's food, they are enchanted; they like that much better than
a present. So I will honour her house some day. Good old Hannah, she is
divorced for being too fat and old, and replaced by a young Turk whose
family sponge on Hajjee Ali and are condescending. If I could afford it,
I would have a sketch of a beloved old mosque of mine, falling to decay,
and with three palm-trees growing in the middle of it. Indeed, I would
have a book full, for all is exquisite, and alas, all is going. The old
Copt quarter is _entame_, and hideous, shabby French houses, like the one
I live in, are being run up; and in this weather how much better would be
the Arab courtyard, with its mastabah and fountain!

There is a quarrel now in the street; how they talk and gesticulate, and
everybody puts in a word; a boy has upset a cake-seller's tray, '_Naal
Abu'k_!' (Curses on your father) he claims six piastres damages, and
everyone gives an opinion _pour ou contre_. We all look out of the
window; my opposite neighbour, the pretty Armenian woman, leans out, and
her diamond head-ornaments and earrings glitter as she laughs like a
child. The Christian dyer is also very active in the row, which, like
all Arab rows, ends in nothing; it evaporates in fine theatrical gestures
and lots of talk. Curious! In the street they are so noisy, but get the
same men in a coffee-shop or anywhere, and they are the quietest of
mankind. Only one man speaks at a time, the rest listen, and never
interrupt; twenty men don't make the noise of three Europea