What had I said, or done? We had been skating on thin ice all the time. I would never deliberately hurt anyone’s feelings, but I cannot resist a joke, and, in a foreign language, there is danger of misunderstanding.
I found a chance of asking the cheik to tell me frankly if I had unwittingly given any offence, for which I would be only too eager to tender my sincere regret and apology. But he explained: Our host’s brother-in-law had died during the night, and, not wishing to disturb our entertainment, his wife had bravely set out alone to attend the funeral.
So even the most intimate domestic sorrow was not permitted to interrupt our enjoyment; the intrusion, as it must be felt, of an unknown woman from an enemy land!
I have never met, even in Turkey, such a fine spirit of hospitality. My tears could not be kept back. Here was a mere lad heaping coals of fire on my head. Again and again the words sternly echoed in my brain: “These things should never have been.”
CHAPTER XII
A LUGGAGE TRAIN—THE WORST STAGE OF MY WHOLE JOURNEY
We are an hour late, the rain is pouring in torrents as I mount from a Turk’s back to my now familiar “van”; the station is full of friends crowding to witness our start and say farewell.
From a Turk’s Back.