Paul Patoff | Page 8

like leaves towards the top, and they
are not set deep in the ground; so that they are top-heavy, and with the
sinking of the soil they invariably fall to one side or the other.
Paul turned again, where four roads meet at a drinking fountain, and the

two brothers entered the narrow Valley of Roses. The roses are not,
indeed, so numerous as one might expect, but the path is beautiful,
green and quiet, and below it the tinkle of a little stream is heard,
flowing down from the spring where the lane ends. There they sat down
beneath a giant tree on a beaten terrace, where a Kaffegee has his little
shop. The water pours from the spring in the hillside into a great basin
bordered with green, the air is cool, and there is a delicious sense of
rest after leaving the noise and dust of the quay. Both men smoked and
drank their coffee in silence. Paul could not help wishing that his
brother would take a little more interest in Turkey and a little less in the
lady of the thick yashmak; and especially he wished that Alexander
might finish his visit without getting into trouble. He had successfully
controlled him during three weeks, and in another fortnight he must
return to Russia. Paul confessed to himself that his brother's visit was
not an unmitigated blessing, and found it hard to explain the object of it.
Indeed, it was so simple that his diplomatic mind did not find it out; for
Alexander had merely said to himself that he had never seen
Constantinople, and that, as his brother was there, in the embassy, he
could see it under favorable circumstances, at a very moderate cost. He
was impetuous, spoiled by too much flattery, and incapable of
imagining that Paul could consider his visit in any light but that of a
compliment. Accordingly he had come, and had enjoyed himself very
much.
"Let us dine here," he said suddenly, as he finished his coffee.
"There is nothing to eat," answered Paul. "Coffee, cold water, and a
few cakes. That is all, and that would hardly satisfy you."
"What a nuisance!" exclaimed the elder brother. "What a barbarous
country this is! Nothing to eat but coffee, cold water, and cakes!"
"It is rather hard on the Turks to abuse them for not keeping restaurants
in their woods," remarked Paul.
"I detest the Turks. I shall never forget the discomfort I had to put up
with in the war. They might have learned something from us then; but
they never learn anything. Come along. Let us go and dine in your

rooms."
"It is impossible to be more discontented than you are," said Paul,
rather bitterly. "It is utterly impossible to please you,--and yet you have
most things which are necessary to happiness."
"I suppose you mean the money?" sneered his brother. But Paul kept
his temper.
"I mean everything," he answered. "You have money, youth, good
looks, and social success; and yet you can hardly see anything without
abusing it."
"You forget that I do not know the name of the lady in the yashmak,"
objected Alexander.
Paul shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing. Both men rose, and
began to go down the green lane, returning towards Mesar Burnu. By
this time the sun had sunk low behind the western hills, and the cool of
the evening had descended on the woods and the Valley of Roses. The
green grass and the thick growth of shrubs took a darker color, and the
first dampness of the dew was in the air. The two walked briskly down
the path. Suddenly a turn in the narrow way brought them face to face
with a party of three persons, strolling slowly towards them.
"Luck!" ejaculated Alexander. "Here they are again!"
He was right. There was no mistaking the lady with the thick,
impenetrable veil, nor her companion, whose heavy dark face was
distinctly visible through the thin Indian gauze. Behind them walked
the hideous negro, swinging his light cane jauntily, but beginning to
cast angry glances at the two Russians, whom he had already
recognized. The way was very narrow, and the ladies saw that retreat
was impossible. Paul bit his lip, fearing some foolish rashness on the
part of his brother. As they all met, the ladies drew close to the hedge
on one side of the path, their black attendant standing before them, as
though to prevent the Giaours from even brushing against the wide
silken ferigees of his charges. Paul pushed his brother in front of him,

hoping that Alexander would have the sense to pass quietly by; but he
trembled for the result.
Alexander moved slowly forward, turning his head as he passed, and
looking long into the black