But nothing could be too ill-omened for that hypocrite.
'I do not want to lend the horse at all,' I said.

'And I am pretty sure he could not ride him.

But what was I to say?
He took me by surprise.' 'In that case,' said Rashid, 'all is not said.

Our darling shall enjoy his bath to-day.' The washing of my horse--a coal-black Arab stallion, as playful as a kitten and as mad--was in the nature of a public festival for all the neighbours.

Sheytan was led down to the spring, where all the population gathered, the bravest throwing water over him with kerosene tins, while he plunged and kicked and roused the mountain echoes with his naughty screaming.