“Then I give up.”
“Perhaps he is a Frenchman?” suggested Garabed.
“Bravo, my dear philosopher, you have guessed right; that is, he’s a Swiss from Geneva. Dr. Mills spoke to my uncle about him, and he told me yesterday.”
The three friends proceeded to share the news with their companions and they all entered the hamam in a state of great excitement. After undressing, the boys bound cloths about their loins, tied on bath-slippers, and passed into the “harara,” a narrow room with temperature at white heat. Thanks to the exertions of the “abou saboun,”[1] who lathered and rubbed them thoroughly, they were soon perspiring freely. Aram, seeing everyone busy, took advantage of the situation to play a thousand pranks; now he pinched fat Soghomon, or again, took possession of all the soap. When the boys were all sufficiently red, they left the harara for the “hanefije,” where they cooled themselves off with water made increasingly cold. Then they wrapped big sheets around them, twisted woolen bands about their heads, and returned to the “mashlach” (dressing-room). There they sat down in little groups on the divans, and began to play checkers and talk, at the same time disposing of a goodly number of cups of coffee.
The hamam plays an important part in the life of Orientals; they go there for sanitary reasons, but still more for pleasure; it is really a place of recreation for them, just as the theater or concert-hall is for us.
Archag, Garabed and Samouīl were playing cards. Aram had mysteriously disappeared, and our two friends had asked Samouīl to take a hand with them. Samouīl, though quite fifteen years of age, looked barely thirteen. During the massacres of 1894 his parents and two older brothers had been killed by the Kurds, and the enemy had left him for dead beside the bodies of his relatives. A charitable person had taken and cared for him, and it was only by a miracle that his life was preserved; indeed, this life was rather a burden to him than otherwise, for he was pining away. A wound in the hip had left him lame, for the bone was affected. Dr. Spencer had operated, but the trouble had spread, making a second operation necessary. The poor boy knew quite well that he would not live to grow up, and he would speak of his going to heaven as we should allude to a railway journey. Mrs. Spencer was always doing something for him; she had placed him in the college, where masters and pupils alike loved him for his sweet nature.
The game of cards was suddenly interrupted by angry cries:
“By the beard of my father, I’ll pay you for that!”
“And I’ll break every bone in your body!”
What had happened was this: Aram, bent on mischief as usual, had furtively stirred a big spoonful of powder into Dikran’s coffee; the latter had discovered the perpetrator of the trick and had given him two resounding slaps in the face; Aram hit back, but Nejib came to his cousin’s aid, and Aram could not cope with the two. Archag, seeing his friend attacked by two lusty opponents, ran to help him without stopping to find out what the quarrel was about; he pitched into Nejib and punched him in the chest and stomach while Aram struggled with Dikran. In a short time, Mihran hodja and the older boys succeeding in separating the combatants, but Aram’s nose was bleeding, Nejib had a black eye, and Archag and Dikran were covered with bruises. It took some time to quiet them down, for they were all shouting at once, without listening to what any one was saying. Aram was punished by two days on bounds; the others got off with a severe reprimand.