None of us talked very much, as we sat at the breakfast table: the
novelty and wonder of the scene made the actors forget their words: and
if we had been able to talk, we could not have appreciated each other's
rhapsodies, over the shoutings of men who wanted us to buy their wares,
and harangues of dragomans who wished, as Monny said, to "drag" us.
These latter, especially, were persistent, and Bedr the One Eyed,
having been forbidden to come till ten o'clock, was not on the spot to
give protection. Our method at first was to appear oblivious, but
presently in my wickedest Arabic, I would have ordered the troop away
if Monny had not interfered.

"Don't!" she said, "they're part of the picture. Besides, they've more
right here than we have. It's their country, not ours. And they're so
interesting--most of them. That tall man over there, for instance, with
the green turban. He's the only one who hasn't opened his mouth. Just
to show him that virtue's its own reward, I'm going to engage him. Will
you call him to us, please, Lord Ernest?"

Sitting as I sat, I could not see the person indicated. "What do you
want him for, Miss Gilder?" I obeyed temptation, and asked.

"Why, to be a dragoman, of course," she explained. "That's what he's
for. I told you, I'd have a picturesque one for ornament. This
creature's a perfect specimen."

I stood up reluctantly, and looked down over the balustrade. "A man
with a green turban?" I repeated. "But that means he's a Hadji, who's
been to Mecca and back. I never heard of a dragoman--"