"You may, if you please," said Paul. "I have no intention of getting myself into trouble."
"Nonsense! Why should we get into trouble? We have as good a right to row on the Bosphorus as they have."
"We have no right to go near them. It is contrary to the customs of the country."
"I do not care for custom," retorted Alexander.
"If you walked down the Boulevard des Italiens in Paris on Easter Day and kissed every woman you met, merely saying, 'The Lord is risen,' by way of excuse, as we do in Russia, you would discover that customs are not the same everywhere."
"You are as slow as an ox-cart, Paul," said Alexander.
"The simile is graceful. Thank you. As I say, you may do anything you please, as you are a stranger here. But if you do anything flagrantly contrary to the manners of the country, you will not find my chief disposed to help you out of trouble. We are disliked enough already,—hated expresses it better. Come along. Take a turn upon the quay before dinner, and then we will go to Stamboul and see the ceremony."
"I hate the quay," replied Alexander, who was now in a very bad humor.
"Then we will go the other way. We can walk through Mesar Burnu and get to the Valley of Roses."
"That sounds better."