mourners for the flouted love of the despot. Ah, sir, what would have happened if the anger and despair of the sultan had not been appeased by his Grand Vizier finding for him the beautiful and gentle Lalla Aziza, the Morning Sun of his life, who knew how to speak to the heart and soul of the cruel monarch as to an equal? The lake of Menar would not have held the blood that would have been shed; but with her coming the heart of the master knew appeasement and sometimes even mercy."
All this was told me and was firmly believed by the passionate young Ali ben Hassan, whom I accidentally met in Marrakesh and from whom I heard much more of the legend and life of the people.
It was the evening following our visit to Menar that Ali came to me and rather apologetically proposed a walk through the town.
"But do not think, please, that I seek to gain money from you, for I only want to show you some features of the city which you would otherwise never see."
With once more a native who spoke fluent French for a guide I felt fortunate and prepared for some interesting experiences. As we set out and soon lost ourselves in the narrow streets, the night was dark, in fact quite black, mild and gently caressing. Under occasional street lamps crowds of men sauntered in the idle pleasure of evening or strode past on some belated business, with the shoes of their mules or donkeys clattering on the stones or the padded feet of their camels mushing mysteriously along.
Crossing the Jemaa el-Fna, habitat of market vendors and snake-charmers, we penetrated the labyrinth of the narrow streets of the Medina and made our way to an
