Beyond we shall run due east, and by Marghelan and Och pass through the gorges of the Pamirs so as to reach the Turkesto-Chinese frontier.

The train had only just started when the travelers took their seats at the table, where I failed to notice any fresh arrival.  We shall not pick up any more until we reach Kachgar.  There the Russian cookery will give place to the Chinese, and although the name does not recall the nectar and ambrosia of Olympus, it is probable that we shall not lose by the change.

Ephrinell is in his usual place.  Without going as far as familiarity, it is obvious that a close intimacy, founded on a similarity in tastes and aptitudes exists between Miss Horatia Bluett and the Yankee.  There is no doubt, in our opinion, but what it will end in a wedding as soon as the train arrives.  Both will have their romance of the rail.  Frankly, I like that of Kinko and Zinca Klork much better.  It is true the pretty Roumanian is not here!

We are all very friendly, and by “we” I mean my most sympathetic numbers, the major, the Caternas, young Pan Chao, who replies with very Parisian pleasantries to the actor’s fooleries.

The dinner is a pleasant one and a good one.  We learn what is the fourth rule formulated by Cornaco, that Venetian noble, and with the object of determining the right amount for drinking and eating.  Pan Chao pressed the doctor on this subject, and Tio-King replied, with a seriousness truly buddhic: 

“The rule is founded on the quantity of nourishment proportionate for each temperament as regards the difference of ages, and the strength and the food of various kinds.”

“And for your temperament, doctor?” asked Caterna, “what is the right quantity?”

“Fourteen ounces of solid or liquid—­”

“An hour?”

“No, sir, a day,” replied Tio-King.  “And it was in this manner that the illustrious Cornaro lived from the age of thirty-six, so as to leave himself enough strength of body and mind to write his fourth treatise when he was eighty-five, and to live to a hundred and two.”

“In that case, give me my fifth cutlet,” said Pan Ghao, with a burst of laughter.

There is nothing more agreeable than to talk before a well-served table; but I must not forget to complete my notes regarding Kokham.  We were not due there till nine o’clock, and that would be in the nighttime.  And so I asked the major to give me some information regarding this town, which is the last of any importance in Russian Turkestan.

“I know it all the better,” said the major, “from having been in garrison there for fifteen months.  It is a pity you have not time to visit it, for it remains very Asiatic, and there has not been time yet for it to grow a modern town.  There is a square there unrivalled in Asia, a palace in great style, that of the old Khan of Khondajar, situated on a mound about a hundred yards high, and in which