"Let him come!" said the Agha indifferently. A ragged peasant figure appeared in the doorway and gazed with eyes half sullen, half frightened at the company, and the profusion of delicate meats.
"Peace be upon you, oh Agha!" he began.
But as soon as he saw the suppliant the Agha started to his feet in a very fury of passion. His face became purple, his squinting eyes started from his head, and he thumped the table with his clenched fist while he cried:
"Begone! and may God curse you and your offspring, and destroy your father's house! Begone, I tell you, and bring the money, or I will send you to prison with your wife and your family, and you shall starve there till you die."
"Oh Agha!" said the man, with a certain dignity that faced the other's rage, "a little time. Grant me a little time."
"Not a day! not an hour!" yelled the Agha. "Away! go! and to-night you shall bring me the money."
The peasant vanished from the doorway without another word, the Agha sat down and continued his interrupted conversation and his interrupted meal; the other guests ate on as if nothing had happened, but I felt a little ashamed of my place at Reshīd's right hand, and I was not sorry to bid him farewell.
The Agha sent us down to the Orontes and caused us to be conveyed across the stream in his own ferry-boat. When we reached the other side Mikhāil ostentatiously took a crust from his pocket and began to eat it.
"Have you not eaten at Alāni?" said I.
"I do not eat with such as he," replied Mikhāil stiffly.