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Evening visited my little queer friend Bel Kasem. Found with him as usual his mighty lord, Khanouhen. The Prince began to ridicule Hateetah and his brothers, and scold me on the subject of presents: "Yâkob, if you give those rascally brothers of Hateetah presents, I shall have to spear you," clenching hold of his spear. "Kelāb" (dogs), said his jester, "they'll strip you of everything, leaving you no bread, nor even a water-skin, to return to Tripoli." I assured Khanouhen I had not given Hateetah's brothers anything but a bit of sugar for some of their children. "Good," said the Prince. Khanouhen now began in the style of un esprit fort: "Yâkob, you're a Marabout. Our Marabouts are all rogues, and are always exciting the people against us and our authority (as Sultan). Are you such a rogue?" Here was a glimpse of another contest between the civil and spiritual power in The Desert. I told the Sheikh I was no priest, but a taleb. "Ah! good," said the Prince, giving me his hand. "But when you die, where are you going to? Are you and I going together on the same camel, or do you take one route of The Desert and I another, with different camels?" I replied, "What is the use of such conjectures?" "Right," said the Prince, "don't you remember (turning to Bel Kasem) that Wahabite the people had here, and how they buffeted him, about? Yâkob, (turning to me) I saved a poor devil, a Wahabite, from being killed by the mob in Ghat, and I'm ready to save you. What's the good of killing a man for his religion?" I thanked the Prince for his noble feelings of tolerance, and left him and his clown to their tête-