When we lived under the same roof, the Haji and I became fast friends.
During the day we called on each other frequently, we dined together,
and passed the evening in a Mosque, or some other place of public
pastime. Coyly at first, but less guardedly as we grew bolder, we
smoked the forbidden weed "Hashish,[FN#3]" conversing lengthily the
while about that world of which I had seen so much. Originally from
Russia, he also had been a traveller, and in his wanderings he had cast
off most of the prejudices of his people. "I believe in Allah and his
Prophet, and in nothing else," was his sturdy creed; he rejected
alchemy, jinnis and magicians, and truly he had a most unoriental
distaste for tales of wonder. When I entered the Wakalah, he
constituted himself my cicerone, and especially guarded me against the
cheating of trades-men. By his advice I laid aside the Darwaysh's gown,
the large blue pantaloons, and the short shirt; in fact all connection
with Persia and the Persians. "If you persist in being an 'Ajami," said
the Haji, "you will get yourself into trouble; in Egypt you will be
cursed; in Arabia you will be beaten because you are a heretic; you
will pay the treble of what other travellers do, and if you fall sick
you may die by the roadside." After long deliberation about