"This breakfast seems to have been a very curious affair. The Bedouin women had prepared on the previous evening a supply of couscoussou, the favourite dish of the Arabs, and, like good managers, they had, at the moment of departure, put in the saddle-bags a sufficiency for the needs of their own people. Our friends, having tasted it, found it excellent, and as a quid pro quo, they presented the Bedouins with some excellent tobacco and cigars, and so put them in a good humour. But the acme of their enjoyment was to come. Breakfast over, M. de Morin expressed his intention of having a snooze, very natural under the circumstances, when M. Delange said to him—
"'Pardon me, but before going to sleep, we must turn our attention to a game at cards. We have not had one to-day, and if we get on horseback it will be difficult. This, as I take it, is a very opportune moment.'
"'But I am dead sleepy,' said the young painter, trying to get out of it.
"'So am I,' replied M. Delange, 'but a quarter of an hour's rest will only make us melancholy. So long as we cannot sleep for twenty-four or thirty-six hours at a stretch, we had better not sleep at all. Come along, and whilst our camels are trying to find a blade or two of grass, we will have just one game at écarté, if you have no objection.'
"'Surely you did not think of bringing any cards with you?' said M. de Morin.
"'They are the only things, on the contrary, I remembered. I forgot water, biscuits, everything except cards.'
"'Very well,' replied the painter, resigned to his lot.
"They sat down, face to face, cross-legged on the sand, and the Bedouins, deeply interested in this novel proceeding, grouped themselves round the pair. When they saw the little red and black pips, the kings, queens, and knaves mixed, jumbled up together, and falling one on the top of another, they were seized afresh with a fit of laughter, not even inferior to that which Joseph had provoked.
"The game was no sooner over than they laid hands on the cards, anxious to fathom the secrets of the game, and M. Delange generously gave them up.
"Our poor companions were worn out with fatigue when they rejoined us at the Consulate. But our joy at seeing them once more re-animated them.