The gentlemen of the tribe were, perhaps luckily for us, away from home on this occasion.

One of the women, a good-looking, black-eyed girl, was the most persistent among this band of maenads, and, bolder than the rest, utterly refused to let Gerome get on his pony, till, white with passion, the Russian raised his whip.

This was a signal for a general howl of rage.

"Strike me if you dare!" said the girl, her eyes ablaze.
"If you do you will never reach the next station." But in the confusion Gerome had vaulted into his saddle, and, setting spurs to our horses, we galloped or scrambled off as quick as the deep snow would allow us.
"Crapule va!" shouted the little man, whose cheek and hair still bore traces of the struggle.

"Il n'y a qu'en Perse qu'on fait des chameaus comme cela!" Ispahan is about seventy farsakhs distant from Teheran.