"And I have at the Châtelet in _Michael Strogoff_."

We cannot do better than leave our comedians alone. They look at
everything from the theatrical point of view. They prefer the air gauze
and the sky-blue foliage, the branches of the stage trees, the agitated
canvas of the ocean waves, the prospectives of the drop scene, to the
sites the curtain represents, a set scene by Cambon or Rubé or Jambon
to no matter what landscape; in short, they would rather have art than
nature. And I am not the man to try and change their opinions on the
subject.

As I have mentioned the name of Tamerlane, I asked Major Noltitz if we
were going to visit the tomb of the famous Tartar. The major replied
that we would see it as we returned; and our itinerary brought us in
front of the Samarkand bazaar.

The arba stopped at one of the entrances to this vast rotunda, after
taking us in and out through the old town, the houses of which consist
of only one story, and seem very comfortless.

Here is the bazaar in which are accumulated enormous quantities of
woollen stuffs, velvet-pile carpets in the brightest of colors, shawls
of graceful patterns, all thrown anyhow on the counters of the shops.
Before these samples the sellers and buyers stand, noisily arriving at
the lowest price. Among the fabrics is a silk tissue known as Kanaous,
which is held in high esteem by the Samarkand ladies, although they are
very far from appreciating the similar product of Lyons manufacture,
which it excels neither in quality nor appearance.

Madame Caterna appeared extraordinarily tempted, as if she were among