Luncheon had been arranged for me, he said, but that could not be ready for some hours.

Would I be so kind as to excuse a makeshift?
Even as he spoke, a soldier entered with a tray on which were slabs of Arab bread, a pitcher of sour milk, and heaps of grapes.
Another soldier began pounding coffee, while yet another blew upon the charcoal in a brazier.

I refused to eat unless my host ate with me, which he did only after much polite resistance.

After the meal, we sat and talked, the soldiers joining in the conversation.

They told me of old wars and deeds of valour.