“On the other hand was carved a furious Sultan, plunging a poniard into the breast of a young person, in sight of a multitude of people. Some turn’d their heads aside, others melted in tears: and round this relievo were these words engraved: Is it you, Nerestan?

“As I was passing to other bustos, a sudden noise made me look back. It was made by a band of men cloth’d in long black gowns. Some carried censers, which exhaled a gross vapor; others had garlands of flowers in their hands, gather’d without choice, and disposed without taste. They march’d up to the bustos, and offered incense to them, singing hymns in two unknown languages. The smoke of their incense stuck to the bustos, and the crowns of flowers put on them made a most ridiculous sight. But the antiques soon resumed their beauty, and I saw the crowns wither and fall shriveled on the ground. There arose a quarrel amongst this set of barbarians, because some of them had not bent the knee low enough in the opinion of others; and they were on the point of coming to blows, when my guide dispersed them with one look, and reestablished tranquillity in her habitation.