Only one man still lingered,--a countryman whose case had long been awaiting settlement--in the hope that a gift to the great man's doorkeeper, of a few drachmae out of his poverty might at length secure him the fruit of his long patience--when the chamberlain, bidding him return on the morrow, officiously flung open the high doors that led to the Mukaukas' apartments, to admit the Arab merchant, in consideration of Haschim's gold piece which had come to him through his cousin the dragoman.

Haschim, however, had observed the countryman, and insisted on his being shown in first.

This was done, and a few minutes later the peasant came out satisfied, and gratefully kissed the Arab's hand.
Then the chamberlain led the old merchant, and the men who followed him with a heavy bale, into a magnificent anteroom to wait; and his patience was put to a severe test before his name was called and he could show the governor his merchandise.
The Mukaukas, in fact, after signifying by a speechless nod that he would presently receive the merchant--who came well recommended--had retired to recreate himself, and was now engaged in a game of draughts, heedless of those whom he kept waiting.

He reclined on a divan covered with a sleek lioness' skin, while his young antagonist sat opposite on a low stool, The doors of the room, facing the Nile, where he received petitioners were left half open to admit the fresher but still warm evening-air.

The green velarium or awning, which during the day had screened off the sun's rays where the middle of the ceiling was open to the sky, was now rolled back, and the moon and stars looked down into the room.