"Who is this man in the black bournous ?" I asked of Hafid.
"I do not recognize him, but, judging by his dress and face, I am sure he is a foreigner, probably from Tunis or, perhaps, a hadj from far away."
We bought some pomegranates and regaled ourselves with this juicy, refreshing fruit as we returned to the town.
There was much that we had yet to see and much that we did see with Hafid which one may not even take the time to mention. There was all the quarter of the Mellah, with the shops of the Jewish merchants, and there was also Fez el-Jdid, or "New" Fez, illustrating in its name how delightfully relative some of the more ancient quarters of the world humorously permit themselves to be; for this parvenu among the sections of the capital dates from the dynasty of the Merinides at the end of the thirteenth century. Then there was the French quarter to add to the Mellah, Fez el-Jdid and Fez el-Bali, making in all four different worlds, which the minaret of Mulay Idris and the Kairween medersa morally and physically dominate with silent and certain power. It is there within Kairween that the most zealous of the Faithful forget, or, more accurately strive not to remember, that unbelievers are here within the circle of these ancient city walls, which have long sheltered those who have received before the very face of Allah the spiritual strength, the pride in Islam and the strong faith in that Fate which is to bring them power and splendor in reward for their fidelity to the Law of the Prophet.
I was musing over all this one day as I walked alone
