There were none of those Djiguit foot soldiers who were mounted, nor of those Sarbaz who were not.
Vanished had those magnificent bodies of Taifourchis, armed and disciplined in the Chinese manner, those superb lancers, those Kalmuck archers, bending bows five feet high, those "tigers" with their daubed shields and their matchlocks.

All have disappeared, the picturesque warriors of Kachgaria and the emir with them.
At nine o'clock we are on our return to Yangi-Chahr.

There, at the end of the streets near the citadel, what do we see?
The Caternas in ecstatic admiration before a troop of musical dervishes.
Who says dervish says beggar, and who says beggar evokes the completest type of filth and laziness.

But with what an extraordinary combination of gestures, with what attitudes in the management of the long-stringed guitar, with what acrobatic swingings of the body do they accompany their singing of their legends and poetry which could not be more profane.

The instinct of the old actor was awakened in Caterna.