“Peace!” was the reply.
“I have a combination!” cried out the Emir, jumping up with a violence which smashed the nargilly. “Let us get the Druses and Maronites to unite, and we’ll go down to Djouni, and seize the English frigate there! What would Palmerston say to that?”
De Tankard laughed. “The East is the cradle of glory,” said he after a pause, with an enthusiastic look.
The Emir stared.
“Ah”! said he, “I had a brave chase yesterday, and ran off with the baggage of a caravan.”
The lady frowned. The Emir fell at her feet, and began to cry.
Next day, De Tankard started off with him on an excursion.
When employed in these ennobling diversions, he learned that his rich maiden aunt had arrived at Jerusalem.
* * * * *
From The Puppet-Showman’s Album. London.