Would that constellation never run down? The satellites whirled on and on, and the high priest in the middle either got faster or I imagined it. Then at last they stopped--just stopped--that was all; only I let go of those two women then and clawed my way to fresh air. We went to the bazaars after that. There is where the _Kurfürster_ finds real bliss. He may talk learnedly of historic sites and rave over superb ruins and mosques and such things, when you drag him in carriages to see them. But only say the word bazaar to him and he will walk three miles to find it. To price the curious things of the East; to barter and beat down; to walk away and come back a dozen times; to buy at last at a third of the asking price--such is the passion that presently gets hold of the irresponsible tourist who lives on one ship and has a permanent state-room for his things. You should see some of those state-rooms! Jars, costumes, baskets, rugs, draperies, statuary--piled everywhere, hung everywhere, stowed everywhere--why, we could combine the stuff on this ship and open a floating bazaar that would be the wonder of the world. The bazaars of Constantinople are crowded together and roofed over, and there are narrow streets and labyrinthine lanes. One can buy anything there--anything Eastern: ornaments, inlaid work, silks, curious weapons, picture postals (what _did_ those _Quaker City_ pilgrims do without them?), all the wares of the Orient--he can get a good deal for a little if he is patient and unyielding--and he will be cheated every time he makes change. Never mind; one's experience is always worth something, and this particular tariff is not likely to be high. We bought several things in Constantinople, but we did not buy any confections. The atmosphere did not seem suited to bonbons, and the places where such things were sold did not look inviting. Laura inspected the assortment and decided that the best Turkish Delight is made in America, and that Broadway is plenty far enough east for nougat. In one bazaar they had a marvellous collection of royal jewels: swords with incrusted handles; caskets "worth a king's ransom"--simply a mass of rubies, emeralds, and diamonds--half a barrel of such things, at least, but we didn't buy any of those goods, either. We would have done so, of course, only they were not for sale. We called at the bazaar of Far-away Moses, but he wasn't there. He died only a little while ago, and has gone to that grand bazaar of delight which the Mohammedans have selected as their heaven. As usual, Laura and I were the last to leave. We were still pulling over some things when our driver, whom we call Suleiman because he has such a holy, villanous look, came suddenly to the entrance, waving frantically. We started then and piled into our carriage. The rest of our party were already off, and we set out helter-skelter after them, Suleiman probably believing that the ship had its anchors up ready to sail.