And the chapter on stoves--where are you in that ?" "The stoves are going on well, but, by the way, uncle, if you could give me a little wood, it wouldn't hurt me.

It is a little Siberia here.

I am so cold, that I make a thermometer go down below zero by just looking at it." "What! you've used up one faggot already ?" "Allow me to remark again, uncle, there are different kinds of faggots, and yours was the very smallest kind." "I'll send you an economic log--that keeps the heat." "Exactly, and doesn't give any." "Well," said the uncle as he went off, "you shall have a little faggot, and I must have my chapter on stoves for tomorrow." "When I have fire, that will inspire me," answered the Turk as he heard himself locked in.
Were we making a tragedy, this would be the time to bring in a confidant.

Noureddin or Osman he should be called, and he should advance towards our hero with an air at the same time discreet and patronizing, to console him for his reverses, by means of these three verses: 'What saddening grief, my Lord, assails you now?
Why sits this pallor on your noble brow?
Does Allah lend your plans no helping hand?
Or cruel Ali, with severe command, Remove to other shores the beauteous dame, Who charmed your eyes and set your heart on flame!' But we are not making a tragedy, so we must do without our confidant, though he would be very convenient.
Our hero is not what he appears to be.

The turban does not make the Turk.