"Here is a pretty complication!" remarked the valet.
"Let us be off," cried Kéraban, who then addressed himself to the chief of the police in a sneering tone, calculated to exasperate that official.
"I am going," he said. "I shall depart despite all your arrests. I will go to Scutari without crossing the Bosphorus."
"I will do myself the pleasure of witnessing your return from such a strange journey," replied the chief of police.
"I shall be extremely glad to meet you on my return," responded Kéraban politely.
"But I may as well inform you that if the tax is still in force when you come back—"
"Well?" said Kéraban.
"I cannot let you pass from Scutari to Constantinople across the Bosphorus without paying the ten paras per head."
"Well, then, if your iniquitous impost is still in force when I return, I will find out some way of crossing to Constantinople without paying a single para: there!"
So saying, Kéraban took Van Mitten's arm and made a sign to Nizib and Bruno to follow them, The party quickly disappeared amid the crowd, which cheered this partisan of the old Turkish régime who was so tenacious of his rights.
Just then the report of a cannon was heard. The sun was setting beyond the Sea of Marmora: the Fast of Ramadan was at an end, and the faithful subjects of the Sultan might now indemnify themselves for the privations of that long day.
As suddenly as by means of an enchanter's wand Constantinople was transformed. To the silence of the Top-Hané succeeded cries of joy and pleasure. Cigarettes and every description of pipe were immediately produced and lighted: the air was odorous with tobacco. The cafés were quickly crowded to overflowing by hungry and thirsty customers. All kinds of pastry and sweetmeats and more solid food were eaten, and every known beverage appeared on the tables as if by magic. The shops were brilliantly
