‘And who is this young man, Besso?’ exclaimed the Invisible, starting up, and himself exhibiting a youthful countenance; fair, almost effeminate, no beard, a slight moustache, his features too delicate, but his brow finely arched, and his blue eye glittering with fire. ‘He is an English lord,’ said Besso, ‘and one of the greatest; that is all I know.’ ‘And why does he come here?’ inquired the youth. ‘The English do not make pilgrimages.’ ‘Yet you have heard what he has done.’ ‘And why is this silent Frenchman smoking your Latakia,’ he continued in a low voice. ‘He comes to Jerusalem at the same time as this Englishman. There is more in this than meets our eye. You do not know the northern nations. They exist only in political combinations. You are not a politician, my Besso. Depend upon it, we shall hear more of this Englishman, and of his doing something else than praying at the Holy Sepulchre.’ ‘It may be so, most noble Emir, but as you say, I am no politician.’ ‘Would that you were, my Besso! It would be well for you and for all of us. See now,’ he added in a whisper, ‘that apparently inanimate mass, Scheriff Effendi--that man has a political head, he understands a combination, he is going to smuggle me five thousand English muskets into the desert, he will deliver them to a Bedouin tribe, who have engaged to convey them safely to the Mountain. There, what do you think of that, my Besso? Do you know now what are politics? Tell the Rose of Sharon of it. She will say it is beautiful. Ask the Rose what she thinks of it, my Besso.’ ‘Well, I shall see her to-morrow.’ ‘I have done well; have I not?’ ‘You are satisfied; that is well.’ ‘Not quite, my Besso; but I can be satisfied if you please. You see that Scheriff Effendi there, sitting like an Afrite; he will not give me the muskets unless I pay him for them; and the Bedouin chief, he will not carry the arms unless I give him 10,000 piastres. Now, if you will pay these people for me, my Besso, and deduct the expenses from my Lebanon loan when it is negotiated, that would be a great service. Now, now, my Besso, shall it be done?’ he continued with the coaxing voice and with the wheedling manner of a girl. ‘You shall have any terms you like, and I will always love you so, my Besso. Let it be done, let it be done! I will go down on my knees and kiss your hand before the Frenchman, which will spread your fame throughout Europe, and make Louis Philippe take you for the first man in Syria, if you will do it for me. Dear, dear Besso, you will pay that old camel Scheriff Ef-fendi for me, will you not? and please the Rose of Sharon as much as me!’ ‘My prince,’ said Besso, ‘have a fresh pipe; I never can transact business after sunset.’