From here, not so many years ago, it was the custom to execute adulterous wives.

The husband, accompanied by his relations, forced his unfaithful spouse to the top of the tower and pushed her over the side (there is no balustrade), to be dashed to pieces on stone flags about a hundred and thirty feet below.
"Pas de chance, monsieur," was Gerome's greeting as I entered the caravanserai.

"The Koudoum Pass is blocked with snow, and almost impassable.

What is to be done ?" Mature deliberation brought but one solution to the question: Start in the morning, and risk it.

"It cannot be worse than the Kharzan, anyhow," said Gerome, cheerfully, as we rode out of Kashan next day, past the moated mud walls, forty feet high, that at one time made this city almost impregnable.