granted her wish, for she holds great sway over them; and she reproached my father for not having proposed the move from Bhamdoun until yesterday evening, and she praised my taste... for I had spoken to her at length about the Choueir region and described it to her as the bride of the Lebanese summer resorts, without exception.

Choueir lies in a low hollow ringed about by the mountains on every side: you see lofty Sannine standing to its north, enfolding it and guarding it from the gusts of the north wind; and you see houses and mansions scattered among the hills and the woods, embracing it, overlooking it, and welcoming those who take refuge in it from the searing heat, delighting the soul with all the charm and beauty it holds.

We reached the Qassouf inn at about eleven in the morning and sat on its terrace, letting our gaze travel over the hills and knolls stretched before it, over which the mild sun moved, casting its rays upon their patches and stamping them with different colors, so that the patches showed sparkling green, and dark olive, and golden, and violet, and... and...! Before scenes such as these, which dazzle the eyes and seize the mind, one cannot but find the Creator!

My father pointed with his hand to the peaks visible to the west of Dhour el-Choueir, saying: — These are the mountains of Kesrouan, Salwa dear, and in them are beautiful villages for summer-ing, which you shall visit together, God willing. She answered him at once: — Uncle, the Dhour is enough for me; and I am certain that even if there existed in the world another place like this one,

there could never be one more wondrous or more magnificent!

After we had taken our lunch — devoured it, rather — we went up to our rooms in search of rest and gave ourselves over to ease; but Salwa put off her siesta and her rest until after her return to Egypt, and sat contemplating nature and communing with it... When we rose at five, the lounge gathered us together again; we took tea and went out to stroll at our leisure along the main road. Scarcely had we passed the hotel when the fog spread out and covered Sannine, flooded the valley, and hid Choueir. Salwa leapt with delight at what she saw, and began to breathe in the moist air, gulping it down, shouting and saying: — We are among the clouds! We are in the fog! How Salwa admired the fog, and how glad she was to see it thus, close at hand for the first time — clothing the earth, engulfing a man and hiding him from his brother. And what a sweet fog it is at times, passing swiftly and settling for the night in the valleys, like flocks of sheep beyond counting!

Salwa kept skipping and playing until her mother said to her: — Calm down, Salwa; it is not becoming for you to bound about like this on the road; you might collide with some passer-by without meaning to! And Salwa answered her: — We are in the mountains now, Mother; we are free to do as we please — and there is no living without larking! And no sooner had Salwa finished uttering her famous sentence than she bumped into a playful girl who had heard her and come up behind her on purpose... and from all of us there followed waves of merry uproar and commotion never to be forgotten!