We endeavored to explain that in making this inquiry we desired neither the gratification of an idle curiosity, nor the furtherance of any political views. Our only object was sketching. Understanding, therefore, that a private bazaar still existed in Assûan---- This was too much for the judicial susceptibilities of the kadi. He would not let Talhamy finish. “There is nothing of the kind,” he interrupted, puckering his face into an expression of such virtuous horror as might become a reformed New Zealander on the subject of cannibalism. “It is unlawful--unlawful.” An awkward silence followed. We felt we had committed an enormous blunder, and were disconcerted accordingly. The governor saw, and with the best grace in the world took pity upon, our embarrassment. He rose, opened the piano, and asked for some music; whereupon the little lady played the liveliest thing she could remember; which happened to be a waltz by Verdi. The governor, meanwhile, sat beside the piano, smiling and attentive. With all his politeness, however, he seemed to be looking for something--to be not altogether satisfied. There was even a shade of disappointment in the tone of his “Ketther-khayrik ketîr,” when the waltz finally exploded in a shower of arpeggios. What could it be? Was it that he wished for a song? Or would a pathetic air have pleased him better? Not a bit of it. He was looking for what his quick eye presently detected--namely, some printed music, which he seized triumphantly and placed before the player. What he wanted was “music played from a book.” Being asked whether he preferred a lively or a plaintive melody, he replied that “he did not care, so long as it was _difficult_.” Now it chanced that he had pitched upon a volume of Wagner; so the little lady took him at his word and gave him a dose of “Tannhaüser.” Strange to say, he was delighted. He showed his teeth; he rolled his eyes; he uttered the long-drawn “Ah!” which in Egypt signifies applause. The more crabbed, the more far-fetched, the more unintelligible the movement, the better, apparently, he liked it. I never think of Assûan but I remember that curious scene--our little lady at the piano; the black governor grinning in ecstasies close by; the kadi in his magnificent shawl-turban; the mudîr half asleep; the air thick with tobacco-smoke; and above all--dominant, tyrannous, overpowering--the crash and clang, the involved harmonies, and the multitudinous combinations of Tannhaüser.