Under arcades of dried leaves--made, like desert graves, of upright poles and dry branches thrown across--the butchers lay at their ease, flicking the flies from their discoloured meat.

"Buy! buy! buy!" they all shouted together.

A dense throng of the poor passed between them in torn jellabs and soiled turbans, and haggled and bought.
Asses and mules crushed through amid shouts of "Arrah!" "Arrah!" and "Balak!" "Ba-lak!" It was a lively scene, with more than enough of bustle and swearing and vociferation.
There was more than enough of lying and cheating also, both practised with subtle and half-conscious humour.

Inside a booth for the sale of sugar in loaf and sack a man sat fingering a rosary and mumbling prayers for penance.

"God forgive me," he muttered, "_God forgive me, God forgive me,_" and at every repetition he passed a bead.