And I reflect that there is many a true word spoken in jest.
"Has she no friend in England," he asked X one day, "or does she never speak in England either?"
"Yes," said X, "she has a friend in England, and she does not speak because she is thinking of him."
"And you, Vali Pasha, have you also a friend in England?"
"Yes," I answered for X; "she has twenty-nine friends in England, and you are only the thirtieth."
And Hassan would ride on in silence, pondering over the strange ways of English ladies.
Amongst his other duties he had to purchase the food, pay the muleteers and soldiers, and give tips; and it fell to my lot to do up the accounts with him periodically. The unusual mental exertion required by this he found very trying. His imperturbability would forsake him completely. On the first occasion he broke down altogether. "What can I do with figures?" he said, the tears rolling down his cheeks; "let me go back to my hills and forests; I am only a poor hunter. She brings out her little book and I shall not know how the piastres have gone, and she will think I have taken her piastres," and he laid his head on his knees and groaned aloud.
When we became better acquainted, however, "hisab" (accounts) became a joke, though they always caused him to perspire profusely.
At first my entire ignorance of the language made our intercourse over the account-book somewhat difficult. We would sit on the ground opposite one another, and Hassan would fumble in the folds of his belt until he had found his spectacles and his account-book.
"Are you ready?"