'Charmingly so! and the more its amplitude, the more its mystery,' said I.
'I don't half like those abominable Turkish trousers on the women; but it is the very devil never to see their faces! We will get over that difficulty somehow—for to be sad about trifles——'
'Hush, for heaven's sake, don't sing here like a wandering Arab,' said I, interrupting the invariable song (that Jack gave us nightly with the third allowance of wine) as we found ourselves before an illuminated Khan.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE KHAN.
Before the façade of this edifice, a row of illuminated lanterns of various gaudy colours hung on orange-trees, while through its open door and arches of trellis-work came the hum of voices, a warm glow of light that gushed into the pitchy obscurity without, and the perfume of roasting coffee, with the fragrant odour of stewing kabobs. The building was spacious, and contained every requisite comfort as some one says somewhere, 'but clean sheets and a Christian bed.'
Entering, we found a number of Turks, all well armed of course, seated on mats round a species of raised divan; they were smoking and were attended by long-haired Greek girls, who were tripping about with their beautiful feet bare and stockingless, supplying these heavy-brained but true Believers with coffee in diminutive cups, or tobacco bruised with apples for their long chibouques, paper for cigarettes, and kabobs on wooden skewers, with caviar, olives, and cheese.
As we entered, all raised their dark and glittering eyes to scan us, by the light of a huge gilt lantern that hung from a dome in the centre of the Khan.
'Salaam aleikum,' said we, touching our caps.
'With you be Allah,' muttered all present; and the keeper of the Khan, a lively Greek in wide blue breeches, a tight brown jacket, a white apron and glittering skull cap, hurried forward to attend us.