During all this time no word was spoken, and I was left altogether in the
dark as to the cause which had produced this extraordinary courtesy.
There was a stationary sofa—they called it there a divan—which was fixed
into the corner of the room, and on one side of the angle sat Mahmoud al
Ackbar, with his feet tucked under him, while I sat on the other. The
remainder of the party stood around, and I felt so little master of the
occasion, that I did not know whether it would become me to bid them be
seated. I was not master of the entertainment. They were not my pipes.
Nor was it my coffee, which I saw one of the followers preparing in a
distant part of the room. And, indeed, I was much confused as to the
management of the stick and amber mouth-piece with which I had been
presented. With a cigar I am as much at home as any man in the City. I
can nibble off the end of it, and smoke it to the last ash, when I am
three parts asleep. But I had never before been invited to regale myself
with such an instrument as this. What was I to do with that huge yellow
ball? So I watched my new friend closely.
It had manifestly been a part of his urbanity not to commence till I had
done so, but seeing my difficulty he at last raised the ball to his mouth
and sucked at it. I looked at him and envied the gravity of his
countenance, and the dignity of his demeanour. I sucked also, but I made
a sputtering noise, and must confess that I did not enjoy it. The smoke
curled gracefully from his mouth and nostrils as he sat there in mute
composure. I was mute as regarded speech, but I coughed as the smoke
came from me in convulsive puffs. And then the attendant brought us
coffee in little tin cups—black coffee, without sugar and full of grit,
of which the berries had been only bruised, not ground. I took the cup
and swallowed the mixture, for I could not refuse, but I wish that I
might have asked for some milk and sugar. Nevertheless there was
something very pleasing in the whole ceremony, and at last I began to
find myself more at home with my pipe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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