“You are right, Adolphe,” said his wife; “but we would have to put those towers up straight and have a few luminous fountains.”

“Excellent notion, Caroline!  Write us a drama, Monsieur Claudius, a spectacle piece, with a third act in this square.  As for the title—­”

“Tamerlane is at once suggested!” I reply.  The actor made a significant grimace.  The conqueror of Asia seemed to him to be wanting in actuality.  And leaning toward his wife, Caterna hastened to say: 

“As a scene, I have seen a better at the Porte-Saint Martin, in the Fils de la Nuit—­”

“And I have at the Chatelet 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 Rube 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 the counters of the Bon Marche or the Louvre.

“That stuff would do well for my costume in the Grande Duchesse!” she said.

“And those slippers would suit me down to the ground as Ali Bajou in the Caid!” said Caterna.

And while the actress was investing in a remnant of Kanaous, the actor paid for a pair of those green slippers which the Turkomans wear when they enter a mosque.  But this was not without recourse to the kindness of the major, who acted as interpreter between the Caternas and the merchant, whose “Yoks!  Yoks!” sounded like a lot of crackers in his large mouth.