The other, plump and lolling, has the air of greatness--a Pasha, maybe, or a man of law.' I told him that Suleyman was a man of learning, and then let him talk while I took stock of his appearance.

The figure out of books of chivalry was shabby on a close inspection.

The coloured surcoat was both weather-stained and torn, the coat of mail beneath so ancient that many of the links had disappeared completely; the holes where they had been were patched with hide, which also was beginning to give way in places.

His age was about three-and-twenty; he had bright brown eyes, a black moustache and beard, and a malicious air.

He looked a perfect ragamuffin, yet he spoke with condescension, talking much about his pedigree, which contained a host of names which I had never heard before--a fact which, when he realised it, filled him first with horror, then with pity of my ignorance.