He pushes open the door, and the servant follows him into the room. The bundle is laid on the floor, on the place where his mother died, and Mohammed generously and proudly, like a man of rank, hands the servant a gratuity, and bids him return. He walks off well pleased, and Mohammed is now left alone in his mother's hut. An old woman is sitting just opposite the hut. She was there when he entered, smoking a short pipe, her arms crossed on her knees. She looked about carelessly, only now and then casting a glance at the house of the young boulouk bashi, who had locked himself in. Mohammed had thought nothing of her presence. What cared he for the old woman there on the stone, smoking her pipe? When, after a short time, he steps out of his hut, she stretches out her hand and begs for alms. Hardly looking at her, he draws a copper coin from his pocket, gives it to her and walks on. The old woman keeps her seat, and mutters a few words to herself. Mohammed walks on rapidly. A boy is skipping along on the other side of the street, whistling a merry air. What does this concern Mohammed? He walks on down the street on the one side, the boy follows him on the other. Mohammed heeds the boy as little as he had heeded the old woman. What does he care for the boy, who seems wholly absorbed in his musical efforts? He entered the store of the merchant, who dealt in all kinds of provisions; in olives, meats, chocolate, sugar, and eggs. Mohammed purchases some of all these articles, and it amuses and astonishes the merchant to see the young officer become, of a sudden, his own housewife. But he does not venture to say so, or ask any questions; Mohammed's grave looks and bearing forbid any attempt at raillery. A servant is ordered to put the things in a basket, and take them to his house. As he walks out of the store again, he hears the boy's shrill whistling in the distance. He pays no attention to this, and walks on quietly. The whistling suddenly ceases, and the boy, who had posted himself in the vicinity, so that Mohammed could not see him on coming out, now runs after him, stepping close to the basket in passing; he casts a quick, searching glance at the articles it contained, as if taking note in expectation of being called on to give an account of its contents. The old woman is still sitting opposite Mohammed's house, reposing there, apparently, after smoking her pipe. Her head is thrown back, resting against the door, and her eyes are closed; she seems to be sleeping. CHAPTER X THE DEPARTURE.