But it is dark now, the dancing has ceased, the crowd has dispersed. How good it is to be out at this hour of the evening. I, who am free (or think I am), delight in the fact there are no Turkish policemen to question me as to what I am doing.
*****
But alas! alas! I spoke of my freedom a little too soon. Even in this quiet city can I not pass unobserved?
“Have you anything to declare?” a Custom House officer asks me.
“Yes,” I replied, “my hatred of your Western ‘Customs,’ and my delight at being alive.”—Your affectionate friend,
Zeyneb.
CHAPTER XVI
THE MOON OF RAMAZAN
Hendaye, August 1907.