The Boy Mohammed Told Me That The Total Expense Would
Be Seven Dollars.
At the same time he had been indulging aloud in his
favourite rhodomontade, boasting of my greatness, and had declared me
to be an Indian pilgrim, a race still supposed at
[P.210] Meccah to be made of gold.[FN#23] When seven dollars were
tendered, they were rejected with instance. Expecting something of the
kind, I had been careful to bring no more than eight. Being pulled and
interpellated by half a dozen attendants, my course was to look stupid,
and to pretend ignorance of the language. Presently the Shaybah youth
bethought him of a contrivance. Drawing forth from the press the key of
the Ka’abah, he partly bared it of its green-silk gold-lettered
etui,[FN#24] and rubbed a golden knob quartrefoil-shaped upon my eyes,
in order to brighten them. I submitted to the operation with a good
grace, and added a dollar—my last—to the former offering. The Sharif
received it with a hopeless glance, and, to my satisfaction, would not
put forth his hand to be kissed. Then the attendants began to demand
vails I replied by opening my empty pouch. When let down from the door
by the two brawny Meccans, I was expected to pay them, and accordingly
appointed to meet them at the boy Mohammed’s house; an arrangement to
which they grumblingly assented. When delivered from these troubles, I
was congratulated by my sharp companion thus:
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