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We seated ourselves on the carpet, and delved in with the spoons, while the old man retired lest his appetite should be provoked. The milk was excellent, nor were the bread and cheese to be despised. While we were eating, the Khowagee, or schoolmaster of the community, a genteel little man in a round white turban, came op to inquire of Francois who we were.
"God grant it!" replied the Khowagee, greatly interested in the story. By this time we had eaten our full share of the kaimak, which was finished by Francois and the katurgees.
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