"How old are you?"
"Truly I know not, effendim, but my years may be nineteen or twenty."
"Why are you not in the army?"
"Because it is the will of Allah and the noble governor that I should be dispensed from the war service of the Illustrious."
"Where is your paper?"
"Behold it, effendim."
He took from the breast of his shaggy tunic a dirty crumpled paper, which Kopri took and read aloud. It set forth the style and titles of the Sultan, then those of his deputy the governor of Erzerum, and finally declared: "Certifies that the bearer, Reuben Donessa, is employed in the service of Isaac Kopri, contractor to the army of the Commander of the Faithful."
"Isaac Kopri should employ older men, but your paper is in order. You may go."
"Peace be with you, effendim."
"Very good, very good," said Kopri, handing back the paper. "But you must pitch your voice a little higher. Joseph, say 'I am your humble servant, effendim.'"