His parents lived outside the city in one of those flat-roofed dwellings so common in Asia Minor. His father owned a great deal of livestock, herds of sheep and goats, as well as droves of horses and camels; Archag breathed a sigh of content as he caught sight of his father's house at a turn of the road. A young girl of sixteen was coming to meet him; it was his sister Nizam, who made a great pet of him. He threw his arms about her neck, and asked in a wheedling tone: "Tell me, have you been making something good for my supper?" "Fie! you greedy boy," replied the young girl. "You think of nothing but eating. Tell me instead what you did at school to-day." At these words a shadow came over the child's face. "Oh! Nizam, to-day is Vartan's Day, so Jousif hodja read us a description of the battle of Avarair. Only think! Three thousand Persians fell upon the Armenians, who had only five hundred soldiers, and they killed Vartan and all his men. Don't you think our hero must have been like Jousif hodja?" Nizam blushed at the name of the schoolmaster; for, to tell the truth, the two young people were secretly in love. "Now Archag, stop; what are you talking about? Come along to supper. Mamma has been making tomato pilaaf for us." "Pilaaf! [2] how jolly!" and Archag ran gayly toward the house. He burst into the kitchen like a gust of wind, went to his father, Boghos [3] Effendi, and kissed his hand, threw his books into a corner, took off his slippers, [4] and then sat down on the floor between his mother and his little brother Levon. At Van, as in other remote towns in Asia Minor, chairs and tables were still objects of luxury, and were rarely seen. People just sat down on the floor. Boghos Effendi was a tall man about forty years of age. Like his sons, he wore the zouboun, a long robe with a flannel girdle, opening over white cotton trousers; on his head he wore a turban of yellow silk. His wife, Hanna badgi, [5] the mother of our little friends, wore a brown silk dress made in European fashion. Her hair hung down over her shoulders in two long black braids. We have already made the acquaintance of pretty Nizam and Levon. Two menservants, Bedros and Krikor, [6] and an old serving woman named Gulenia, completed the family circle. Seated around an earthenware tray, [7] each one, armed with a large spoon, dipped at will into a dish of pilaaf. On their knees they had, each one, a large piece of bread piled with olives, but this bread was quite different from ours; it was thin and flat, rather like a soft pancake than bread. For ten minutes no sound was heard but the crunching of jaws and the clatter of spoons (sounds which I would by no means advise my readers to imitate); then, before standing up, each rinsed the mouth and fingers again in a bowl of water.