BESSO is better,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo to Barizy of the Tower, as he met him on a December morning in the Via Dolorosa.

‘Yes, but he is by no means well,’ quickly rejoined Barizy. ‘The physician of the English prince told me ——’

‘He has not seen the physician of the English prince!’ screamed Pasqualigo, triumphantly.

‘I know that,’ said Barizy, rallying; ‘but the physician of the English prince says for flesh-wounds ——’

‘There are no flesh-wounds,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo. ‘They have all healed; ’tis an internal shock.’

‘For internal shocks,’ said Barizy of the Tower, ‘there is nothing like rosemary stewed with salt, and so keep on till it simmers.’

‘That is very well for a bruise,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo.

‘A bruise is a shock,’ said Barizy of the Tower.

‘Besso should have remained at Aleppo,’ said the Consul.

‘Besso always comes to Jerusalem when he is indisposed,’ said Barizy; ‘as he well says, ’tis the only air that can cure him; and, if he cannot be cured, why, at least, he can be buried in the Valley of Je-hoshaphat.’

‘He is not at Jerusalem,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo, maliciously.

‘How do you mean?’ said Barizy, somewhat confused. ‘I am now going to inquire after him, and smoke some of his Latakia.’

‘He is at Bethany,’ said the Consul.

‘Hem!’ said Barizy, mysteriously. ‘Bethany! Will that marriage come off now, think you? I always fancy, when, eh? ——’

‘She will not marry till her father has recovered,’ said the Consul.

‘This is a curious story,’ said Barizy. ‘The regular troops beaten by the Kurds.’

‘They were not Kurds,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo. ‘They were Russians in disguise. Some cannon have been taken, which were cast at St. Petersburg; and, besides, there is a portfolio of state papers found on a Cossack, habited as a Turkman, which betrays all. The documents are to be published in numbers, with explanatory commentaries. Consul–General Laurella writes from Damascus that the Eastern question is more alive than ever. We are on the eve of great events.’

‘You don’t say so?’ said Barizy of the Tower, losing his presence of mind from this overwhelming superiority of information. ‘I always thought so. Palmerston will never rest till he gets Jerusalem.’

‘The English must have markets,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo.

‘Very just,’ said Barizy of the Tower. ‘There will be a great opening here. I think of doing a little myself in cottons; but the house of Besso will monopolise everything.’

‘I don’t think the English can do much here,’ said the Consul, shaking his head. ‘What have we to give them in exchange? The people here had better look to Austria, if they wish to thrive. The Austrians also have cottons, and they are Christians. They will give you their cottons, and take your crucifixes.’

‘I don’t think I can deal in crucifixes,’ said Barizy of the Tower.

‘I tell you what, if you won’t, your cousin Barizy of the Gate will. I know he has given a great order to Bethlehem.’

‘The traitor!’ exclaimed Barizy of the Tower. ‘Well, if people will purchase crucifixes and nothing else, they must be supplied. Commerce civilises man.’

‘Who is this?’ exclaimed the Consul Pasqualigo.

A couple of horsemen, well mounted, but travel-worn, and followed by a guard of Bedouins, were coming up the Via Dolorosa, and stopped at the house of Hassan Nejid.

”Tis the English prince,’ said Barizy of the Tower. ‘He has been absent six months; he has been in Egypt.’

‘To see the temples of the fire-worshippers, and to shoot crocodiles. They all do that,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo.

‘How glad he must be to get back to Jerusalem,’ said Barizy of the Tower. ‘There may be larger cities, but there are certainly none so beautiful.’

‘The most beautiful city in the world is the city of Venice,’ said Pasqualigo.

‘You have never been there,’ said Barizy.

‘But it was built principally by my ancestors,’ said the Consul, ‘and I have a print of it in my hall.’

‘I never heard that Venice was comparable to Jerusalem,’ said Barizy.

‘Jerusalem is, in every respect, an abode fit for swine, compared with Venice,’ said Pasqualigo.

‘I would have you to know, Monsieur Pasqualigo, who call yourself consul, that the city of Jerusalem is not only the city of God, but has ever been the delight and pride of man.’

‘Pish!’ said Pasqualigo.

‘Poh!’ said Barizy.

‘I am not at all surprised that Besso got out of it as soon as he possibly could.’

‘You would not dare to say these things in his presence,’ said Barizy.

‘Who says “dare” to the representative of a European Power!’

‘I say “dare” to the son of the janissary of the Austrian Vice–Consul at Sidon.’

‘You will hear more of this,’ said Pasqualigo, fiercely. ‘I shall make a representation to the Inter-nonce at Stamboul.’

‘You had better go there yourself, as you are tired of El Khuds.’

Pasqualigo, not having a repartee ready, shot at his habitual comrade a glance of withering contempt, and stalked away.

In the meantime, Tancred dismounted and entered for the first time his house at Jerusalem, of which he had been the nominal tenant for half a year. Baroni was quite at home, as he knew the house in old days, and had also several times visited, on this latter occasion, the suite of Tancred. Freeman and True-man, who had been forwarded on by the British Consul at Beiroot, like bales of goods, were at their post, bowing as if their master had just returned from a club. But none of the important members of the body were at this moment at hand. Colonel Brace was dining with the English Consul on an experimental plum-pudding, preliminary to the authentic compound, which ............