I made an effort to prevent the blood rising to my cheeks, and was upon the point of withdrawing when the Mehrem ordered me to remain. He applied himself to my case, using exceedingly uncivil expressions. I was about to reply, when Hadji Salih, whose exterior {124} inspired respect, came in, and, entirely ignorant of what had passed, represented me in the most flattering colours to my inquisitor, who, surprised, told me, smiling as he did so, to take a seat by his side. Hadji Salih made a sign to me to accept the invitation, but, assuming the air of one highly offended, and throwing an angry look upon the Mehrem, I retired. My first step was to go to Shükrullah Bay, who, without filling any functions, occupied a cell at that time in the Medresse of Mehemmed Emin-Khan, the finest edifice in Khiva. I announced myself to him as an Efendi arrived from Stamboul, with the observation that I had made his acquaintance there, and had wished, in passing, to wait upon him. The arrival of an Efendi in Khiva, an occurrence so unprecedented, occasioned the old man some surprise. He came forward himself to meet me, and his wonder increased when he saw a mendicant, terribly disfigured and in rags, standing before him: not that this prevented him from admitting me. I had only interchanged a few words with him, in the dialect of Stamboul, when, with ever-increasing eagerness, he put question upon question concerning his numerous friends in the Turkish capital, and the recent doings and position of the Ottoman empire since the accession of the present Sultan. As I before said, I was fully confident in the part I was playing. On his side, Shükrullah Bay could not contain himself for joy when I gave him news of his acquaintances there in detail. Still he felt not the less astonishment. 'In God's name, Efendi, what induced you to come to this fearful country, and to come to us too from that paradise on earth, from Stamboul?' Sighing, I exclaimed, 'Ah, Pir!' (spiritual chief), laid one hand on my {125} eyes, a sign of obedience, and the excellent old man, a Musselman of tolerably good education, could not misapprehend my meaning, i.e. that I belonged to some order of Dervishes, and had been sent by my Pir (chief of my order) upon a journey, which is a duty that every Murid (disciple of an order of Dervishes) must fulfil at the hazard of his life. My explanation rejoiced him; he but asked the name of the order. On my mentioning the Nakishbendi, he at once understood that Bokhara was the aim of my journey. He wished immediately to obtain for me quarters in the Medresse before named, but I mentioned at the same time my situation with respect to my companions. I then almost immediately withdrew, with the promise soon to repeat my visit.