The Turkish Colonel And I Had Become As Friendly As Two Men Ignoring
Each Other’S Speech Could Be.
He had derived benefit from some
prescription; but, like all his countrymen, he was pining to leave
Meccah.[FN#1] Whilst the
[P.228] pilgrimage lasted, said they, no mal de pays came to trouble
them; but, its excitement over, they could think of nothing but their
wives and children. Long-drawn faces and continual sighs evidenced
nostalgia. At last the house became a scene of preparation. Blue
chinaware and basketed bottles of Zemzem water appeared standing in
solid columns, and pilgrims occupied themselves in hunting for
mementoes of Meccah; ground-plans; combs, balm, henna, tooth-sticks;
aloes-wood, turquoises, coral, and mother-o’-pearl rosaries; shreds of
Kiswah-cloth and fine Abas, or cloaks of camels’-wool. It was not safe to
mount the stairs without shouting “Tarik” (Out of the way!) at every step,
on peril of meeting face to face some excited fair.[FN#2] The lower
floor was crowded with provision-vendors; and the staple article of
conversation seemed to be the chance of a steamer from Jeddah to Suez.
Weary of the wrangling and chaffering of the hall below, I had
persuaded my kind hostess, in spite of the surly skeleton her brother,
partially to clear out a small store-room in the first floor, and to
abandon it to me between the hours of ten and four. During the heat of
the day clothing is unendurable at Meccah.
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