CHAPTER IV
DJIMLAH
On the day of Beiram my father was
about to set out for a call on a Turkish
pasha.
"Take me with you, father," I begged, thinking of the pleasure of being with him more than of going into a Turkish home. He acceded to my request, actuated by the same motive as mine.
The old pasha was receiving his guests in his superb garden, and I, after eating all the sweets my father would permit me to, and becoming tired of their talk, which happened not to interest me, slipped away. I wandered about in the garden, and presently came across a little girl, older than myself, yet not so old as to form a barrier between us. It is true that we came very near fighting, at first, over the bravery of our respective races, but we ended, thanks to the courtesy of my little hostess, by becoming friends.
Taking my hand in hers we ran all the way to where the pasha and my father were seated. She interrupted their conversation without cere-
