We washed at the tap of the inevitable petroleum tin in the stable, and the proprietor’s son brought us clean but exceedingly rough towels. After our ablutions we repaired to the front of the house, where a dozen or more Turkish officers sat sipping coffee. The ranking man among them, an Albanian, rose as we appeared, and addressed us in French. A Turk would not have spoken without some substantial motive. The Albanian asked where we had come from, where going, how old we were, whether married or not, as rapidly as he could put the questions--which is polite in Turkey. We both understood that this was all in good taste, as was also the noise the other officers made drinking coffee. It was difficult for the Englishman, however, bound by the heavy fetters of British restraint, to reply to this interrogatory readily and with any marked show of pleasure, and quite impossible for him to sip his coffee in the manner of the company. But, having come in contact with many queer people in the course of my travels, I was experienced in such a situation, and not only answered all the Albanian’s questions with alacrity, but put them straight back to him, and while he was speaking I sucked coffee and sighed heavily after each mouthful as though in the height of bliss. This display of good manners met with a cordial reception by the Turks, and they invited us to dine with them at the officers’ mess--an exceptional invitation. We went with them to their quarters in a clean Turkish house, off a narrow street half covered by the extended second storey. We climbed a bare, ladder-like staircase and entered a small, unpainted room with many rugs on the rough boards. There was a long, covered thing like a mattress on one side, stretching from end to end of the floor, and a high divan, likewise stretching the length of the wall, on the other side. I was weary, and the long cushion offered more excuse for reclining, so I dropped myself upon it; but the other man got upon the divan and let his feet hang. We looked foreign to the place, I know; for when the officers were seated there were many pairs of shoes on the floor, but ours were the only feet to be seen, and ours were the only bare heads. Once in a while a Turk would remove his fez and rub his head, but generally the red cap sat somewhere on the skull of its owner.