Egypt -- Fiction; Mystery and detective stories; Short stories
Fashionable Europe and America were well represented as usual in the
Sûk el-Attârin, but the little shop of Mohammed er-Rahmân was quite
deserted, although he dealt in the most rare essences of all.
Mohammed, however, did not seek Western patronage, nor was there in
the heart of the little white-bearded merchant any envy of his
seemingly more prosperous neighbors in whose shops New York, London,
and Paris smoked amber-scented cigarettes, and whose wares were
carried to the uttermost corners of the earth. There is nothing more
illusory than the outward seeming of the Eastern merchant. The
wealthiest man with whom I was acquainted in the Muski had the aspect
of a mendicant; and whilst Mohammed's neighbors sold phials of essence
and tiny boxes of pastilles to the patrons of Messrs. Cook, were not
the silent caravans following the ancient desert routes laden with
great crates of sweet merchandise from the manufactory at Shubra? To
the city of Mecca alone Mohammed sent annually perfumes to the value
of two thousand pounds sterling; he manufactured three kinds of
incense exclusively for the royal house of Persia; and his wares were
known from Alexandria to Kashmîr, and prized alike in Stambûl and
Tartary. Well might he watch with tolerant smile the more showy
activities of his less fortunate competitors.
The shop of Mohammed er-Rahmân was at the end of the street remote
from the Hamzâwi (Cloth Bazaar), and as I stood up to resume my labors
my mood of gloomy abstraction was changed as much by a certain
atmosphere of expectancy--I cannot otherwise describe it--as by the
familiar smells of the place. I had taken no more than three paces
onward into the Sûk ere it seemed to me that all business had suddenly
become suspended; only the Western element of the throng remained
outside whatever influence had claimed the Orientals. Then presently
the visitors, also becoming aware of this expectant hush as I had
become aware of it, turned almost with one accord, and following the
direction of the merchants' glances, gazed up the narrow street
towards the Mosque of el-Ashraf.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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