In a Turk, moreover, this politeness is doubly praiseworthy, from the fact that he looks upon my poor sex with great disrespect; indeed, according to his creed, we have not even a soul.
I had only stood a few moments, when the Sultan appeared on horseback, surrounded by his train.

He alone rode into the courtyard; the others all dismounted at the gate, and entered on foot.

The horse on which the Sultan rode was of rare beauty, and, as they told me, of the true Arabian breed; the saddle-cloth was richly embroidered with gold, and the stirrups, of the same precious metal, were in the form of shoes, covered with the finest chased work.
The Sultan is a slender slim-looking youth of nineteen years of age, and looks pale, languid, and blase.

His features are agreeable, and his eyes fine.

If he had not abandoned himself at so early an age to all the pleasures of the senses, he would, no doubt, have grown up a stalwart man.