I bounded from my bed and looked out of the window at the clock on the Administrateur’s office, but it said only seven. I pointed this out to the cavalier and explained that I had been warned for eight. He did not seem in the least impressed, and only repeated the information that the bash agha awaited me. I gathered that he expected me to run down in my pajamas. Arabs rarely undress, and wash only at the Turkish bath and at meals, and they can not understand that a European can’t walk straight out of his bed to his daily duties.
I failed to convey any of this to the cavalier, and he left me, repeating that the bash agha awaited me.
At seven-thirty the Caïd Madani came into my room and, after passing through the ritual of early morning salutations, informed me that the bash agha awaited me.
I said, “But he warned me for eight, and it is only seven-thirty.”
He said, “But the bash agha is ready.”
I said, “Well, he ought to have told me to come earlier.”
The caïd did not seem to understand my point of view, and only replied, “Well, perhaps you will hurry; I will wait down-stairs.”
I hurried, and eventually dashed out, followed by my companion, to where the car waited. The bash agha sat in a chair and smoked a meerschaum pipe. He was surrounded by a group of Arab chiefs.
“What respect,” I said to myself. “The old man goes out for the day and all the chiefs come to see him off.”
The bash agha saluted me and made no reference to the hour of our departure. I felt relieved.