young lives shut up in such a cage, though it all seems to have some fascination and charm—of course, when looked at from a distance,"
This same day we attended a second dinner at seven o'clock, which the French officials who had been invited with us assured us would not last more than two hours, and that we should then be able to return to the hotel and rest after so full a day. The invitation had come from two local notables, Si Mahommed Abdessalam el-Wazazi and Si Ali ben Mahommed el-Hassawi, relatives of the local Pasha, the powerful Prince Glawi. One of the French officials told me that both of them were old men, very proud and aristocratic and not given to talking with foreigners and that they were receiving us officially as proxies of the Pasha, who was for the moment in his kasba in the mountains. To make sure of my ground and to confirm or shatter the official's statement, I asked him if I might open conversation with them.
"You may try," he replied, "but you will not succeed, for the two old men will answer simply 'yes' or 'no' through the interpreter."
A few minutes past seven we approached a wall near the Jemaa el-Fna and knocked at a small, low and most unpretentious door, which was opened at once by a slave with lantern in hand, who led us along a tunnel-like passage under the house until we came into a beautiful court bordered with black cypresses that seemed aspiring to reach the stars and garnished with flowering shrubs about the murmuring fountain. In a richly furnished room, lighted with all the brilliance of day, we were met
