He wears profuse jewellery, to
set off his title, no doubt. It is understood that he has held high
Government posts, and is now only waiting for some letters before joining
certain friends in a costly caravan expedition further south. Yet he seems
poor--hopelessly poor. I surprised him, soon after his arrival, in a
heated debate with the landlord on the subject of candles and _cafe au
lait_. Then he enquired if the country was safe.
"Not if you go out with a _machine comme ca_," touching the Count's
gorgeous watch-chain.
He knows, at least, how to handle his knife and fork, which is more than
can be said of all the inmates of this hostelry. A town-dweller,
evidently; he tells me he detests wild life of every kind and has come
here only to oblige his friends; he calls the Arabs "ignoble savages."
Such, however, is not the opinion of another guest, my friend Monsieur
M----. One must be careful how one criticizes the habits of the natives in
his presence; not that he would be angry, for he is too gentle to feel
wrath; or become argumentative--he is too sure of his ground for that; but
he might be wounded on his most sensitive spot, and he would certainly
think you--well, misinformed.
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