He then applied to a third, and asked where a room or rooms and refreshment could be obtained, but the man turned off without a word.
Patiently, and with the calm gentlemanly manner of a genuine Turk, he applied in all directions, but without effect.
“Have you offered to pay for everything we have, and pay well, Yussuf?” said the professor, as he sat there weary and hungry, and beginning to shiver in the cold wind that swept down from the snow-capped mountains.
“Yes, excellency, but they will not believe me.”
“Show them the firman,” said the professor.
This was done, but the people could not read, and when they were told of its contents they shrugged their shoulders and laughed.
It was growing dark, the cold increasing, and the travellers wearied out with their journey.
“What is to be done, Yussuf?” said Mr Preston; “we cannot stop out here all night, and we are starving.”
“They are not of the faithful,” said Yussuf indignantly. “I have spoken to them as brothers, but they are dogs. Look at them, effendi. They are the friends and brethren of the thieves and cut-throats whom we met in the mountains.”
“Yes, we can see that, my good friend,” said Mr Burne drily; “but as we say in our country—‘soft words butter no parsnips.’”