Next morning came the sheik in person with his two sons and a following of a hundred men. This was so many more than we had bargained for that we at once foresaw a scheme to extort money. The sheik, however, proved to be that same Rashwan Ebn Hassan el Kashef, by whom the happy couple had been so hospitably entertained about a fortnight before; we therefore received him with honor, invited him to luncheon, and, hoping to get the work done quickly, set the men on in gangs under the superintendence of Reïs Hassan and the head sailor.
By noon the door was cleared down to the threshold, and the whole south and west walls were laid bare to the floor.
We now found that the débris which blocked the north wall and the center of the floor was not, as we had at first supposed, a pile of fallen fragments, but one solid bowlder which had come down bodily from above. To remove this was impossible. We had no tools to cut or break it and it was both wider and higher than the doorway. Even to clear away the sand which rose behind it to the ceiling would have taken a long time and have caused inevitable injury to the paintings around. Already the brilliancy of the color was marred where the men had leaned their backs, all wet with perspiration, against the walls.
Seeing, therefore, that three-fourths of the decorations were now uncovered, and that behind the fallen block there appeared to be no subject of great size or importance, we made up our minds to carry the work no further.
Meanwhile, we had great fun at luncheon with our Nubian sheik—a tall, well-featured man with much natural dignity of manner. He was well dressed, too, and wore a white turban most symmetrically folded; a white vest buttoned to the throat; a long, loose robe of black serge; an outer robe of fine black cloth with hanging sleeves and a hood; and on his feet, white stockings and scarlet morocco shoes. When brought face to face with a knife and fork his embarrassment was great. He was, it seemed, too grand a personage to feed himself. He must have a “feeder;” as the great men of the middle ages had a “taster.” Talhamy accordingly, being promoted to this office, picked out choice bits of mutton and chicken with his fingers, dipped pieces of bread in gravy and put every morsel into our guest’s august mouth, as if the said guest were a baby.
The sweets being served, the little lady, L—— and the writer took him in hand and fed him with all kinds of jams and preserved fruits. Enchanted with these attentions, the poor man eat till he could eat no longer; then laid his hand pathetically over the region next his heart and cried for mercy. After luncheon he smoked his chibouque and coffee was served. Our coffee did not please him. He tasted it, but immediately returned the cup, telling the waiter with a grimace, that the berries were burned and the coffee weak. When, however, we apologized for it, he protested with oriental insincerity that it was excellent.
To amuse him was easy, for he was interested in everything; in L——’s field-glass, in the painter’s accordion, in the piano, and the lever corkscrew. With some eau-de-cologne he was also greatly charmed, rubbing it on his beard and inhaling it with closed eyes, in a kind of rapture. To make talk was, as usual, the great difficulty. When he had told us that his eldest son was Governor of Derr; that his youngest was five years of age; that the dates of Derr were better than the dates of Wady Halfeh; and that the Nubian people were very poor, he was at the end of his topics. Finally, he requested us to convey a letter from him to Lord D——, who had entertained him on board his dahabeeyah the year before. Being asked if he had brought his letter with him, he shook his head, saying: “Your dragoman shall write it.”
So paper and a reed pen were produced and Talhamy wrote to dictation as follows:
“God have care of you. I hope you are well. I am sorry not to have had a letter from you since you were here. Your brother and friend,
“Rashwan Ebn Hassan El Kashef.”