"Why is it not there?"
"Why is it not there?" echoed Nizib.
"I suppose because it is not yet seven."
"It is not yet seven."
"How do you know that?"
"Because you say so," replied Nizib.
"Suppose I were to say it was five o'clock?"
"Then it would be five o'clock," said the human echo.
"One is not so stupid as that!"
"No, not so stupid," was the answer.
"This fellow by such constant agreement will end by causing disagreement," muttered Kéraban.
At this moment Van Mitten and Bruno reappeared, and the latter kept urging his master to leave the city.
"Let us go on," he said, "by the first train. This Constantinople, indeed! This the capital of the Commander of the Faithful! Never!"
"Be quiet, Bruno," said Van Mitten; "calm yourself."
The sun was setting and had already dipped behind the hills of old Stamboul, leaving the Top-Hané in a sort of penumbra. The twilight prevented Van Mitten from recognizing Kéraban as they crossed the quay from opposite directions; but it so happened that they met, and each, in his anxiety to pass, got in the other's way. This produced a balancing movement which is ridiculous to a beholder.
"Well, monsieur, I may pass, surely!" said Kéraban, who was not a man to yield the path to any one.
"But—" said Van Mitten, who in his anxiety to be polite effectually precluded the passage.
"I tell you I will pass, sir."
"But—"again said the Dutchman, and he was about to explain when he suddenly recognized the man with whom he had such important business.
"What! My friend Kéraban?" he cried.
"You!" exclaimed Kéraban. "You! here—in Constantinople?"
"Yes, 'tis I," replied Van Mitten.
"Since when have you been here?"
"Since this morning."
