Or perhaps he would prefer to give himself up to repose?
The house is his, and what is in it, and those many men that stand afar watching the interview are his.

Syed Abdulla presses his host's hand to his breast, and informs him in a confidential murmur that his habits are ascetic and his temperament inclines to melancholy.

No rest; no food; no use whatever for those many men who are his.

Syed Abdulla is impatient to be gone.

Lakamba is sorrowful but polite, in his hesitating, gloomy way.