Her tones were peculiar, not those of a woman, and though not deep, were clear and decisive, and abrupt. Persian she understood perfectly, though a little shy of speaking it before one whom she only knew as a Persian. After asking me particulars of my journey, and news of Shiraz and its people, that she knew of by repute, she asked me to read her a letter in Persian that had just come from Teheran, and was so taken with the accent of Shiraz, that she was not satisfied till I had repeated the epistle three times, remarking to her servants:[68] “Bravo! that is the true Persian speech, the sweetest of all God’s languages.” After that she refused me permission to speak Kurdish, and insisted upon Persian, exacting long explanations of any Shiraz idiom new to her. For an hour or more the interview lasted, then she rose and earnestly desired to know if I was quite comfortable, gave orders for new carpets and better bedding for me, and then retired, and for the first time spoke Persian as a farewell, bidding me return to the official “divan,” which she held every afternoon. I was returning to my room, when a serving-man told me that I must go and call upon Tahir Beg, second son of Uthman Pasha by his first wife, who lived in the other end of the big house wherein I had my room. This chief, who owns some land at Halabja, has acquired a reputation for considerable literary skill, and speaks besides Kurdish, Persian and Turkish, in the former of which he writes a good deal of poetry. He has also a slight knowledge of French. As is the habit among such people, he keeps open house, and callers arrive at all times of the day and interview him.