We went inside, telling him to fetch Hassan to us.
The Prince stalked into the room with the same air with which he had been stalking the streets, and stood in front of us with an excited and expectant expression.
"The cook is right," said X; "it is his new shirt. He is overcome with pride and conceit; he is on parade, that's all."
He certainly had something to be conceited about. The shirt was of fine silk in gorgeous yellow and red stripes; round his waist was a wide, bright-coloured kammerband, round his head a new keffiyeh flashed all the colours of the rainbow. Clean and shaven, his tight-fitting shirt showing up the strong outline of his muscular frame, he exhibited, to say the least of it, a striking spectacle.
We were evidently expected to be overcome at the magnificence of his appearance, and certainly we did not disappoint him in this respect.
"You are grand," said X to him in his own language; "you quite surprise us."
Hassan put his hands into his trouser pockets and strutted up and down the room, speechless with delight.
"Who would have thought you could be such a turkey-cock, you old gander!" I said in English.
"What is she saying?" said Hassan to X.
"She says you are just like a very magnificent bird we have in England," answered X.