Toward evening we chose to return on foot. And on "the beautiful avenue among avenues" Ameen whispered in my ear: "What do you say to an evening at the Moulin Rouge?" I answered him: "No harm in it, if you wish!" Gibran was tired, so we saw him to his lodgings and made our way to the quarter of "Montmartre" to see the strangest theater among the night theaters of Paris... the kind they call a "night box"... On the way Ameen asked me whether I often frequented the night boxes, and I told him how I had visited one a single time, by way of making the thing's acquaintance, and then from time to time in deference to the wish of some friend who was a stranger to Paris — and at his expense! Then he asked me: "And our friend Gibran — has he not asked you to accompany him there?" "No — we go to see the great theaters, whenever complimentary tickets come our way!"

...Ameen and I sat, among the seated crowd, on comfortable seats at the front of the hall, and before us on the stage a "flood" of half-naked girls... heads following one upon another... eyes shining... hair set with jewels, and lips colored and painted, and jutting bosoms swaying and dancing... bellies adorned with ornaments to draw the eye, and legs parting from one another and coming together to rise above the heads... arms playing like serpents... and voices of song and laughter, and the din of strange, clamorous musical instruments, and tobacco smoke rising thick and heavy, then settling back into nose and throat and chest until the breath grew tight! I turned to Ameen and said: These are the "night boxes" — are you pleased, O eternal Father??

The first act ended... the hall surged with the crowds, and all was thrown together pell-mell, the women with the men, leading them to the drinks "bar," where money flies from the pockets! Rihani and I sat like idols, saying nothing and thinking of nothing... two strangers in that strange atmosphere... Suddenly I felt a hand patting my shoulder and another on Ameen's shoulder, and heard a sweet voice saying to us: "Are you made of tin, gentlemen, or are you nailed to the seat?"

Rihani jerked his arm away from the pain of his neu-ralgia, and I peered into the girl's face, questioning: "I am Marguerite," she said, "Rosina's companion!!"

"And who could recognize you under this painted-up face? And this dress that is no dress?? What are you doing here?!"

Perhaps my tone was harsh, for Marguerite laughed an unnatural laugh and answered: "And you — what are you doing here with this 'personage'?..." — and she stared into Ameen's face, and Ameen stared into hers. I asked her, questioning: "And does Rosina

come here too?" "No — her brothers do not allow her. She has family who watch jealously over her; as for me, there is no one to ask after me..." And she went on laughing and crying at once, wiping her tears gently lest the kohl and the rest of the colors come away, and at last she said: "I am not inviting you to the bar... that would cost you a great deal of money. This is a den of thieves, gentlemen!"

But Ameen rose to the occasion and took from his pocket half a gold lira — a fortune in those days — and placed it in Marguerite's palm, while I looked on astounded, not knowing what moved

And she threw her arms around Ameen and kissed his forehead!

him to this Hatim-like generosity!... Whereupon the girl threw her arms about him, kissed him on his forehead, and vanished among the crowds, leaving above the meeting of his brows the print of her two red lips...

"Health to you, Ameen... health to you" — I kept repeating it in Ameen's ear as I wiped away the rouge with the corner of my handkerchief, while Ameen teased me gently: "Don't wipe it off, Youssef... it cost half a gold piece!!"

The signal was given for the second act to begin, but we had had our fill of watching the flood of half-naked women and of breathing the smoke, and Ameen grew uncomfortable and the neuralgia in his arm worsened... so we left, and I accompanied him home, and rubbed his shoulder for him as "Umm Ameen" used to do in Freike... and we agreed to visit the Louvre Museum on the morrow...