He spoke no more, and sat fingering the coral beads from Mecca, deep in meditation. I sat quiet, too, contemplating the amazing scene before me. The dark blue and red carpets, the flickering candles casting grotesque shadows on the ceiling, the flaming colors of the girls’ dresses as they sat in a semi-circle contemplating their noble guest, while their bracelets and anklets gleamed in the dark corners of the room. Suddenly the old man turned to me again. “You have a great doctor called Voronoff, have you not?” he asked. “Well, he does not come from my country, but he is a European,” I replied. “I have studied his teaching,” went on the old man. “Can he really rejuvenate the old?” “For a short time I believe,” I said, “but I have really not gone deeply into the question. Personally I do not quite see the value of being made to live beyond our appointed time.” The old man smiled. “You are wise, but you are young. When you feel the weight of years weighing on you, you will wish again to have all your vitality, all your faculties. And yet our death is destined, and what can a human do? _Mektoub!_” He bowed his head and seemed again lost in meditation. “Youth fades rapidly, and old age lasts long,” he said at last. Then, rising, he moved toward the door. Outside a warm breeze struck our faces, the stars seemed large and bright in the dark heavens; over there, down the street, one could hear the deep notes of the Arab flute drawing out its plaintive tune, the rhythmical beat of the _tam-tam_ struck our ears. “They play a melody of the far south,” he said. “It is very beautiful, it is very sad. The heart of the Arab dominated is sad. I will leave you. May Allah bless and keep you young long. To-morrow we will visit my flocks. _Inch Allah_.” He held out his hand, pressed mine, raised his fingers to his lips and then placed them on his breast. He flung the white burnous over his shoulder and disappeared into the night. The note of the flute drifted up with the wind, and I walked back to the hotel with a feeling of great peace of mind. CHAPTER IX THE ARAB CHARACTER Before studying a country and its people it is essential to endeavor to arrive at some conclusion regarding that people’s character. All nations have their outstanding characteristics, characteristics which will always make it so difficult to carry out the ideals of the Bolshevik or even to make efficacious the worthy efforts of the League of Nations. The Briton, adventurous, conservative, law-abiding; the Frenchman with his horizon and ambitions limited by his home and his family circle, his thrifty instincts, his sentimental patriotism; the German, persevering and disciplined, believing only in himself—give us at once well defined mentalities. The man in the street knows this, the most advanced idealist can not deny it, so that the various nations of Europe remain, as hitherto, defined nations.