ABSTRACT
We came to a very fine house which had doubtless once belonged to a kachef, or a Mameluke bey; its vestibule was continued as a colonnaded gallery over one of the sides of the courtyard. At the end there was a great wooden divan with cushions, and on this there sat a good-looking Mussulman, dressed with some distinction, who was nonchalantly threading a chaplet of aloes wood. A negro boy was relighting the charcoal in his narghile, and a Coptic scribe, seated at his feet, doubtless acted as his secretary.
