Ktutz is the name of this enchanting spot, a name insulting to a Western tongue (Fig. 121). [20] We walked across a narrow stretch of grass, strewn with boulders, in the direction of a crag of the same white limestone, weathered yellow, [21] by which the cliff on the opposite shore of the islet falls away before reaching the point. Against that crumbling surface rose the conical dome of an ancient church, surmounting a picturesque group of gables, and, below these, a cluster of mud walls. Several almond-trees, of great age, spread their stippled foliage along the foot and up the side of the cliff. We observed for the first time one of the primitive structures which the people use for drawing water from their wells. [22] The figure of a priest advanced to meet us; he greeted us kindly, and offered to escort us to the monastery. The finished masonry of the dome, the careful juxtaposition of black with yellow stone in the roof, evinced the culture of a happier age. The church consists of an outer nave and an inner sanctuary, from which the former is separated by a solid wall. As at Khosha Vank, near Ani, this outer building or pronaos is of larger dimensions than the shrine to which it leads. [23] It has probably been added at a later epoch. The nave is accompanied by two broad aisles. The doorway through which you enter the inner chapel is richly carved in the Arab style (Fig. 122). You look from without the open door across deep shadows to the lofty daïs of sculptured stone which supports the high altar in the apse. The inner chapel must date back to a remote period, in spite of the ogival arches of the two little doorways in the apses of the narrow side aisles. These betray the direct influence of Arab architecture, and are a solecism among the pointed arches of which the rest of the edifice is built up. It is disposed in the form of a Greek cross; the dome rises from massive piers. The apse on the north contains a chamber in which you are shown the grave of John the Baptist, and a girdle which is said to have belonged to the Saint. Frescos after the taste of the Persians cover the smaller spaces--garlands and wreaths of bright leaves. The archways are painted in quiet blues and reds; pictures of saints are suspended from the walls. Elaborate altar-pieces adjoin the entrance, one on either side of the door. The floor is carpeted with rugs, and an air of comfort pervades the dimly-lit shrine. This twilight serves to soften the gorgeous decorations which the wear of time has assisted to subdue. Neither they nor the interior which they adorn are of striking merit; yet you leave under the impression of a composite charm. We, as Englishmen, were much interested by an old standard clock which, to our surprise, bore on its face the name of Isaac Rogers, London. It ticked away in the heavy quiet, an object so familiar that our guide forgot to point it out. [24]