feet; we, not to be behind him in good manners, rising also.

"May Baba," says the old Moor; and repeating this phrase thrice (which
is a sure sign of hearty welcome), he claps the Don's hand, without
shaking it, and lays his own upon his breast, the Don doing likewise.
Then Don Sanchez, introducing us as we understood by his gestures, the
old Moor bends his head gravely, putting his right hand first to his
heart, next to his forehead, and then kissing the two foremost fingers
laid across his lips, we replying as best we could with a bowing and
scraping. These formalities concluded, the Don and the old Moor walk
apart, and we squat down again to our mutton bones.

After a lengthy discussion the old Moor goes, and Don Sanchez, having
paid the reckoning, leads us out of the town by many crooked alleys and
cross-passages; he speaking never a word, and we asking no questions,
but marvelling exceedingly what is to happen next. And, following a wall
overhung by great palms, we turn a corner, and find there our old Moor
standing beside an open door with a key in his hand. The old Moor gives
the key into Don Sanchez's hand, and with a very formal salutation,
leaves us.

Then following the Don through the doorway, we find ourselves in a
spacious garden, but quite wild for neglect; flower and weed and fruit
all mingling madly together, but very beautiful to my eye, nevertheless,
for the abundance of colour, the richness of the vegetables, and the
graceful forms of the adjacent palms.

A house stood in the midst of this wilderness, and thither Don Sanchez
picked his way, we at his heels still too amazed to speak. Beside the
house was a well with a little wall about it, and seating himself on
this, Don Sanchez opens his lips for the first time.

"My friend, Sidi ben Ahmed, has offered me the use of this place as long
as we choose to stay here," says he. "Go look in the house and tell me
if you care to live in it for a year."

CHAPTER XII.

_How Don Sanchez very honestly offers to free us of our bargain if we
will; but we will not._

The house, like nearly all Moorish houses of this class, was simply one
large and lofty room, with a domed ceiling built of very thick masonry,
to resist the heat of the sun. There was neither window nor chimney, the
door serving to admit light and air, and let out the smoke if a fire
were lighted within. One half of this chamber was dug out to a depth of
a couple of feet, for the acc