Mudir. Have the ladies no husbands, then? Why are they not married?
Hassan. In England the ladies do not care about husbands. In that country they rule the men. If anything were to happen to these ladies, the Queen of England would send her soldiers out here to revenge them.
(The whole room gives vent to murmurs of "Mashallah," and every eye is fixed on us.)
Mudir. The other lady (nodding at me), is she a servant that she does not speak?
Hassan. No, she too is a Pasha, but she cannot speak Turkish.
Mudir (incredulously). No Turkish?
Hassan (scornfully). Well, only such words as "hot water," "tea," and "be quick," and "is my horse ready?"
The Mudir then inquired calmly "how many times" we had been held up by brigands in his district, a strange satire on Turkish methods of government. There was not a doubt in his mind that we had not been waylaid and robbed.
He then took us to visit another house which boasted of three rooms, all leading out of each other. The first one appeared to be the general living- and sleeping-room, absolutely bare save for strips of felt ranged down the far end and a pile of native quilts in a corner; the second room, which could only be reached through the first, was dedicated to the animals; and the third, which was almost pitch dark, was a larder and store-house. We were received by several women, who held us fast by the hands while they displayed their abode with great signs of pride. One of them was a strikingly handsome dark girl, dressed in gorgeous coloured native silks and velvet, and literally plastered with ornaments from the face and hair downwards.
On returning to the raft we were somewhat puzzled (one is never surprised in Turkish dominions) by finding it taken possession of by two women, magnificently dressed and closely veiled, accompanied by a man and a woman servant. They were sitting in a row on our beds examining all our belongings complacently.