DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27180#0056
PYRAMID AND TEMPLE
into a second library, which a pasha had given to the State,
near the Muski, the Bazaar street. We didn’t find any books,
however; merely coffee to drink and delicious cigarettes to
smoke. He introduced us to the pasha and a whole crowd of
notables. When Babuschka took a fancy to the costume of
one of the notables, a wonderful piece of striped silk, they
immediately summoned, from the neighbourhood, a dealer,
who produced enchanting patterns which would do perfectly
for Babuschka’s room. The Syrian priest, however, whis-
pered to us not to buy anything, as he could take us to a
better shop in the Muski. It turned out that we knew the
shop already. Ibrahim, our ragged mentor of past days, had
taken us there; and there occurred the painful scene when we
were made aware of his misdemeanours. Unfortunately the
stuffs were nothing like so beautiful, and didn’t feel so soft,
as they contained cotton, and weren’t the same blue as the
other. Our friend, the Syrian priest, considered them better
and more durable, as they were of Syrian make. It seemed
all right to me, but Babuschka had set her heart on the others.
The obliging people kept bringing out new bundles, but
there was nothing of the pattern we had seen in the library
below. Every time our friend declared they were the best
that was to be had in Cairo. It seemed rude to give the
people so much trouble, and to disillusion our friend into the
bargain. He made them show us silk costumes which
Babuschka liked just as little. Such moments, trivial as they
are, can become positively painful; and I was glad when we
had turned our back on the bazaar. We returned to Bab-el-
Luk, and praised the weather. Every day was a perfect gift.
The Syrian priest’s gentle features wore a preoccupied look.
When we had reached our floor he invited us with friendly
gestures into his room, which was full of boxes. We didn’t
venture to look behind the bed. We were in his cell for the
first time. He showed us a couple of illuminated Korans,
not as fine of course, as those in the library, but tasteful and
48
into a second library, which a pasha had given to the State,
near the Muski, the Bazaar street. We didn’t find any books,
however; merely coffee to drink and delicious cigarettes to
smoke. He introduced us to the pasha and a whole crowd of
notables. When Babuschka took a fancy to the costume of
one of the notables, a wonderful piece of striped silk, they
immediately summoned, from the neighbourhood, a dealer,
who produced enchanting patterns which would do perfectly
for Babuschka’s room. The Syrian priest, however, whis-
pered to us not to buy anything, as he could take us to a
better shop in the Muski. It turned out that we knew the
shop already. Ibrahim, our ragged mentor of past days, had
taken us there; and there occurred the painful scene when we
were made aware of his misdemeanours. Unfortunately the
stuffs were nothing like so beautiful, and didn’t feel so soft,
as they contained cotton, and weren’t the same blue as the
other. Our friend, the Syrian priest, considered them better
and more durable, as they were of Syrian make. It seemed
all right to me, but Babuschka had set her heart on the others.
The obliging people kept bringing out new bundles, but
there was nothing of the pattern we had seen in the library
below. Every time our friend declared they were the best
that was to be had in Cairo. It seemed rude to give the
people so much trouble, and to disillusion our friend into the
bargain. He made them show us silk costumes which
Babuschka liked just as little. Such moments, trivial as they
are, can become positively painful; and I was glad when we
had turned our back on the bazaar. We returned to Bab-el-
Luk, and praised the weather. Every day was a perfect gift.
The Syrian priest’s gentle features wore a preoccupied look.
When we had reached our floor he invited us with friendly
gestures into his room, which was full of boxes. We didn’t
venture to look behind the bed. We were in his cell for the
first time. He showed us a couple of illuminated Korans,
not as fine of course, as those in the library, but tasteful and
48