not, for he would touch neither, saying he would rather go dry any day
than be poisoned with such liquor.

Whilst we were at our meal, a good many Moors came in to stare at us, as
at a raree show, and especially at Moll, whose bright clothes and loose
hair excited their curiosity, for their women do rarely go abroad,
except they be old, and wear only long dirty white robes, muffling the
lower part of their faces. None of them smiled, and it is noticeable
that these people, like our own Don, do never laugh, taking such
demonstration as a sign of weak understanding and foolishness, but
watching all our actions very intently. And presently an old Moor, with
a white beard and more cleanly dressed than the rest, pushing the crowd
aside to see what was forward, recognised Don Sanchez, who at once rose
to his feet; we, not to be behind him in good manners, rising also.

"May Baba," says the old Moor; and repeating this phrase thrice (which
is a sure sign of hearty welcome), he claps the Don's hand, without
shaking it, and lays his own upon his breast, the Don doing likewise.
Then Don Sanchez, introducing us as we understood by his gestures, the
old Moor bends his head gravely, putting his right hand first to his
heart, next to his forehead, and then kissing the two foremost fingers
laid across his lips, we replying as best we could with a bowing and
scraping. These formalities concluded, the Don and the old Moor walk
apart, and we squat down again to our mutton bones.

After a lengthy discussion the old Moor goes, and Don Sanchez, having
paid the reckoning, leads us out of the town by many crooked alleys and
cross-passages; he speaking never a word, and we asking no questions,
but marvelling exceedingly what is to happen next. And, following a wall
overhung by great palms, we turn a corner, and find there our old Moor