In the meantime Max was advised to remain quiet. It was not thought wise for him to interfere, as some thought it might be said he was a foreigner, and of alien faith, and therefore at work against the interests of the religion, while wearing the garb of the prophet. Max had sown the seed, and he had no desire to gather the fruit. He was quite willing that others should do that. So he fell in with the views of Rashid, Barbasson and Nasr el Adin, and agreed to remain quiet in the city, while they kindled the torch of revolt. Max slept well that night. It had been many months since he reposed in a regular bed in a comfortable room, with both male and female servants to minister to his needs. True, the females were not lovely. They were very old, exceedingly ugly and bad tempered, but they did the work. It was noon the next day before Max ventured forth into the streets. He left the city and followed the course of the Nile. A huge crocodile was basking on the bank, and looked lazily at Max, who returned the gaze, and wondered whether he ought to attack the peculiar animal or not. While he was looking at the reptile a girl, unveiled, ran screaming past him, followed by a fat, ugly-looking man. Max thought that it was a case of father chastising his daughter, but even then his blood boiled with indignation, for the girl was too old to receive corporal punishment. The man overtook the girl and struck her over the shoulders with his cane. At the same instant Max found he could not restrain the muscles of his arm, and his clinched fist managed to come in contact with the fat man’s nose, causing that organ to bleed with refreshing copiousness, and inducing its owner to lie on the ground on his back. It was a curious accident--for so Max called it--but the girl did not hurry to assuage the grief of her fallen foe, but rather turned her black eyes in the direction of Max. He then saw that she was really pretty. Her olive skin, her long, black eyelashes overhanging sparkling dark eyes, made her quite a pretty feature in the landscape. The fat man lay on the ground with no inclination to resume the perpendicular while Max was around. The girl started running away, but Max called to her to stop. He wanted to know her name, at least. He was an American, and did not realize how different were the customs of Egypt. She ran swiftly, but Max could outrun her. She smiled when he got alongside her. As she did so she revealed two rows of shiny, pearly teeth that really added to her beauty. “Thank you, but it was very wrong,” she said, with charming _naïveté_. “What was wrong, mademoiselle?” She smiled. “You know you shouldn’t.” “What?” “Have knocked him down.” “But he shouldn’t have struck you.” “I was wrong. I went out without a veil.” “As ladies always do in my country,” said Max. “Do they? Isn’t that nice?” Turning round they saw that the fat man had risen, and was following them. “Go,” she said.