On the following day I returned, letter in hand. I gave it to a sentry and desired him to convey it to the Commandant, to whom it was addressed. After a due interval an officer descended the stairs below which I was sitting; he regretted, said he, that I could not be shown the palace of the khalifs, it must be for another day. Upon this the hasty European blood, which no amount of sojourning in the East can bring to subjection, rose in revolt, and brushing aside (I blush to relate it) the officer and the sentry, I sprang up the stairs, drew back a heavy leather curtain and burst unannounced into a room filled with distinguished military men. They were, I suppose, the Mesopotamian equivalent for an army council, and if I am not mistaken they were composing themselves to slumber—the hour was the somnolent hour of noon and the day was hot. But my advent galvanized them into wakefulness. They listened with the greatest courtesy to my tale, and when I had finished, one who sat behind a green baize table pronounced judgment.
“The letter,” said he, “is addressed to the Commandant and may be opened by none but he.”
“Effendim,” said I, “could it not be given to the Commandant?”
“Effendim,” he replied, “the Commandant Pasha is in his house, asleep, but if you wish I will send the letter.”
I thanked him and begged him to do so, saying that I would go with it.
The Commandant’s house was a stone’s throw from the arsenal. I was greeted by a smiling major-domo who said that the Commandant should be informed of my arrival, and meantime would I please to look at the lions upon the roof. I agreed to this suggestion—as who would not?—and together we climbed up to the housetop, where a pair of Mesopotamian lions, thin, poor beasts, and ill-conditioned, were confined in an exiguous cage. And they too were spending the midday hour in the approved fashion. After we had succeeded in rousing them, I was conducted into the Commandant’s reception-room, where the Commandant in full uniform awaited me. We exchanged salutations and sat down.
“Effendim,” said the Commandant, “I trust you were satisfied with the lions.”
I expressed complete satisfaction, mingled with astonishment at finding them upon his roof.
“They are now rare,” said the Commandant. “I had them captured in the swamps near Amârah while they were yet young.”
“Effendim,” said I, “I have seen them pictured upon the ancient stones of the Assyrians.”