At the gate of the palace we halted, and Joshua, riding up, asked Maqueda sulkily whether he should conduct “the Gentiles,” for that was his polite description of us, to the lodging for pilgrims in the western town.

“No, my uncle,” answered Maqueda; “these foreign lords will be housed in the guest-wing of the palace.”

“In the guest-wing of the palace?  It is not usual,” gobbled Joshua, swelling himself out like a great turkey cock.  “Remember, O niece, that you are still unmarried.  I do not yet dwell in the palace to protect you.”

“So I found out in the plain yonder,” she replied; “still, I managed to protect myself.  Now, I pray you, no words.  I think it necessary that these my guests should be where their goods already are, in the safest place in Mur.  You, my uncle, as you told us, are badly hurt, by which accident you were prevented from accepting the challenge of the Sultan of the Fung.  Go, then, and rest; I will send the court physician to you at once.  Good-night, my uncle; when you are recovered we will meet again, for we have much that we must discuss.  Nay, nay, you are most kind, but I will not detain you another minute.  Seek your bed, my uncle, and forget not to thank God for your escape from many perils.”

At this polite mockery Joshua turned perfectly pale with rage, like the turkey cock when his wattles fade from scarlet into white.  Before he could make any answer, however, Maqueda had vanished under the archway, so his only resource was to curse us, and especially Quick, who had caused him to fall from his horse.  Unfortunately the Sergeant understood quite enough Arabic to be aware of the tenor of his remarks, which he resented and returned: 

“Shut it, Porpoise,” he said, “and keep your eyes where Nature put ’em, or they’ll fall out.”

“What says the Gentile?” spluttered Joshua, whereon Orme, waking up from one of his fits of lethargy, replied in Arabic: 

“He says that he prays you, O Prince of princes, to close your noble mouth and to keep your high-bred eyes within their sockets lest you should lose them”; at which words those who were listening broke into a fit of laughter, for one redeeming characteristic among the Abati was that they had a sense of humour.

After this I do not quite know what happened for Orme showed signs of fainting, and I had to attend to him.  When I looked round again the gates were shut and we were being conducted toward the guest-wing of the palace by a number of gaily dressed attendants.

They took us to our rooms—­cool, lofty chambers ornamented with glazed tiles of quaint colour and beautiful design, and furnished somewhat scantily with articles made of rich-hued woods.  This guest-wing of the palace, where these rooms were situated, formed, we noted, a separate house, having its own gateway, but, so far as we could see, no passage or other connection joining it to the main building.  In front of it was a small garden, and at its back a courtyard with buildings, in which we were informed our camels had been stabled.  At the time we noted no more, for night was falling, and, even if it had not been, we were too worn out to make researches.