Muhammad Pasha Sâlih was intensely worried. As he drove toward the English Consul’s office, he let deep furrows ravage his benignant brow, and combed his long grey beard with nervous fingers. The ever-shifting crowds, the eager faces, the laden camels rolling on like ships upon the sea of heads; the water-sellers clinking their brass cups, the cries of salesmen and the floating odours—all the pageant of the streets and all their rumour, which filled the sunlight and seemed one with it, went by unnoticed.
II
17