“Brother in God, I have rested beneath your roof. In return for your hospitality, I give you some good advice. You have children?”
“Two daughters.”
“Well, have an eye to them, for the Lesghis have recently descended from their mountains and carried off large numbers in Guriel and Georgia.”
“Let them come,” replied the Mingrelian, “I have three sons and four guns.”
The merchant then made a movement of departure, but having cast a rapid glance on Baïla, he raised his right hand with his five fingers extended.
Baïla, red with shame, cast on him a look of contempt and took the attitude of an insulted queen. Thanks to that look and attitude, in which he doubtless found some flavor, the merchant raised a finger of his left hand.
The Mingrelian showed his ten fingers, not however without an angry glance from his wife, who muttered, “it is too soon.”
“Honey is dear in your district,” said the man with the turban; “I foresee I shall have to buy it from the Lesghis against my will. Farewell, and may Allah keep you.”
“Can we not on the one hand sell any thing, nor on the other buy any thing without your turning your back so quickly on us on that account?” replied the father. “Repose still, the oar has doubtless wearied your hands.”
“That is why they are so difficult to open,” growled the housewife.