without a drop?  When even the consul and the interpreter of the consul had no water to slake their thirst, have you not had enough to wash your wustuddur?  And what is my return?  When I arrive in the heat of the day, I have not one kind word spoken to me, nor so much as a glass of makhiah offered to me; must I tell you all that I do for you, Joanna?  Truly I must, for you have no manner with you.  Do I not come every morning just at the third hour; and do I not knock at your door; and do you not arise and let me in, and then do I not knead your bread in your presence, whilst you lie in bed, and because I knead it, is not yours the best bread in Tangier?  For am I not the strongest man in Tangier, and the most noble also?” Here he brandished his barrel over his head, and his face looked almost demoniacal.  “Hear me, Joanna,” he continued, “you know that I am the strongest man in Tangier, and I tell you again, for the thousandth time, that I am the most noble.  Who are the consuls?  Who is the Pasha?  They are pashas and consuls now, but who were their fathers?  I know not, nor do they.  But do I not know who my fathers were?  Were they not Moors of Garnata (Granada), and is it not on that account that I am the strongest man in Tangier?  Yes, I am of the old Moors of Garnata, and my family has lived here, as is well known, since Garnata was lost to the Nazarenes, and now I am the only one of my family of the blood of the old Moors in all this land, and on that account I am of nobler blood than the sultan, for the sultan is not of the blood of the Moors of Garnata.  Do you laugh, Joanna?  Does your maid Johar laugh?  Am I not Hammin Widdir, el hombre mas valido de Tanger?  And is it not true that I am of the blood of the Moors of Garnata?  Deny it, and I will kill you both, you and your maid Johar.”

“You have been eating hashish and majoon, Hammin,” said Joanna Correa, “and the Shaitan has entered into you, as he but too frequently does.  I have been busy, and so has Johar, or we should have spoken to you before; however, mai doorshee (it does not signify), I know how to pacify you now and at all times, will you take some gin-bitters, or a glass of common makhiah?”

“May you burst, O Joanna,” said the Mulatto, “and may Johar also burst; I mean, may you both live many years, and know neither pain nor sorrow.  I will take the gin-bitters, O Joanna, because they are stronger than the makhiah, which always appears to me like water; and I like not water, though I carry it.  Many thanks to you, Joanna, here is health to you, Joanna, and to this good company.”

She had handed him a large tumbler filled to the brim; he put it to his nostrils, snuffled in the flavour, and then applying it to his mouth, removed it not whilst one drop of the fluid remained.  His features gradually relaxed from their former angry expression, and looking particularly amiable at Joanna, he at last said: