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granted, curled herself up in a corner of the sofa. I resumed my
seat with a sigh. It would have been boorish to turn her out.
This is much nicer than Alexandretta, isn't it? said Pasquale
familiarly. And Sir Marcus is an improvement on Hamdi Effendi.
Oh, yes. Seer Marcous lets me do whatever I like, said
Carlotta.
I'm shot if I do, I exclaimed. The confinement of your
existence in the East makes you exaggerate the comparative
immunity from restriction which you enjoy in England.
I notice that Carlotta is always impressed when I use high
sounding words.
Still, if you could make love over garden walls, you must have
had a pretty slack time, even in Alexandretta, said Pasquale.
Obviously Carlotta had saved me the trouble of explaining her.
I once met our friend Hamdi, Pasquale continued. He was the
politest old ruffian that ever had a long nose and was pitted
with smallpox.
Yes, yes! cried Carlotta, delighted. That is Hamdi.
Is there any disreputable foreigner that you are not familiar
with? I asked, somewhat sarcastically.
I hope not, he laughed. You must know I had got into a deuce
of a row at Aleppo, about eighteen months ago, and had to take to
my heels. Alexandretta is the port of Aleppo and Hamdi is a sort
of boss policeman there.
He is very rich.
He ought to be. My interview with him cost me a thousand
poundsthe baldheaded scoundrel!
He is a shocking bad man, said Carlotta, gravely.
I'm afraid it is Mr. Pasquale who is the shocking bad man, I
said, amused. What had you been doing in Aleppo?
_Maxime debetur_, said he.
English are very wicked when they go to Syria, she remarked.
How can you possibly know? I said.
Oh, I know, replied Carlotta, with a toss of her chin.
My friend, said Pasquale, lighting a cigarette, I have
travelled much in the East, and have had considerable adventures
by the way; and I can assure you that what the oriental lady
doesn't know about essential things is not worth knowing. Their
life from the cradle to the grave is a concentration of all their
faculties, mortal and immortal, upon the two vital questions,
digestion and sex.
What is sex? asked Carlotta.
It is the Fundamental Blunder of Creation, said I.
I do not understand, said Carlotta.
Nobody tries to understand Sir Marcus, said Pasquale,
cheerfully. We just let him drivel on until he is aware no one
is listening.
Seer Marcous is very wise, said Carlotta, in serious defence of
her lord and master. All day he reads in big books and writes

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