'Arabian Nights' at once, into all the dreams of the East, and we actually find ourselves imprisoned in the depths of—"
"An immense convent," added Bruno, "in the midst of a people as sad as a Trappist priory.
"My friend Kéraban will explain to us what it all means, by-and-by," said Van Mitten.
"But where are we at this moment?" asked Bruno. "What is this place? what do they call this quay?"
"If I am not mistaken, we are on the Top-Hané," replied Van Mitten, "at the end of the Golden Horn. There is the Bosphorus, which laves the shores of Asia, and on the opposite side you may see the Seraglio Point, and the Turkish town which is raised above it."
"The Seraglio!" exclaimed Bruno. "Is that the palace of the Sultan, wherein the eighty thousand odalisques live?"
"Eighty thousand?" repeated Van Mitten, smiling; "I fancy you have estimated the number somewhat too highly—even for a Turk. In Holland we find one wife sufficient for a household, and even then one cannot always have peace!"
"Quite so; certainly, sir; let us not speak of that unless we must." Then Bruno, turning towards the café, said,—
"This looks like a café, and after his exertions, combined with this baking Turkish sun, I should not be surprised if my master would like some refreshment."
"That is one way of saying that you are thirsty," replied Van Vitten. "Well, let us enter this café."
So they seated themselves at one on the small tables on the façade of the establishment.
"Cawadjii!" cried Bruno, rapping on the table, European fashion. But as no one answered the summons, he called again more loudly.
After this second summons, the proprietor of the café appeared at the end of the shop, but made no signs of approaching nearer.
"Strangers," he murmured, when he caught sight of his customers. "Do they really believe they can be served?" Then he came to the table.
