an upper chamber of magnificent proportions--spoilt, to my
taste, by gaudy Frankish furniture and certain oleographs of the
crowned heads of Europe which adorned its walls.

He thought, as is the way of Orientals, visibly, with finger pressed
to brow. Then he exclaimed:

'I have a house close by, across the glen--a little ruinous, perhaps,
but we can soon repair it. Come to the window; you can see the place
from here.' He pointed out a kind of thickset tower which crowned a
pretty village set in orchards. 'If you care to see it we will go
there when I have received my people.'

He invited me to go with him to the reception; but, having seen the
crowd outside, I thought it wisdom to go back rather to the village
khan where I had left my horse, to warn Rashid to have things ready
for a start, and get some breakfast.

I returned in two hours' time, to find the chief already mounted on a
splendid charger, led by a no less splendid servant, setting forth in
search of me, 'with half the world for tail,' as Rashid put it.

It was in truth a long procession which meandered down the steep and
rocky pathway, deep in the shade of walls and overhanging trees, to
the ravine, forded the stream, and climbed the other bank.

The village, when we reached it, was in great commotion, all its
people crowding to the wide meydan, or levelled ground for
horsemanship, spread out before the house which might be mine. In the
midst of this meydan there was a fine old carob tree, with a stone
bench all round the foot of its enormous trunk.

The house itself was an old fortress, built of solid stone, with arrow
slits as well as modern windows, and an arched doorway at the top of
wide stone steps. Against it nestled lesser houses of the village
which seemed to climb up towards it for protection.

Some men of consequence came forth to greet the chief, who then
dismounted with their servile aid. He introduced me to a turbaned
Druze of reverend appearance, who (he said) at present occupied the
house, and also to the son of the said turbaned Druze, who knew a
little French and longed to air it.

The turbaned one, whose name was Sheykh Huseyn, was called on to
refresh his chieftain's memory with regard to various details of the
house and property and all the feudal rights and privileges
appertaining thereunto. He did so, as in duty bound, but in a very
mournful tone.

His son explained: Tu fiens habiter, nous defons quitter. Mon bere
n'aime