write stories. And today I hope that my writings will one day yield me a return... And be sure that true rapture never seizes me except when I am drawing or writing..."

By way of a joke I told Gibran of Kali's advice that we should dress ourselves in Eastern costume and give ourselves over to painting exotic pictures... Gibran objected violently: — No, never! That is rubbish... Charlatanry is not our business, Youssef...

That morning the model did not come as was her habit, and Gibran was invited out to lunch, so I left him and went to Madame Boudet's restaurant.

And in the evening, after finishing work at the art institute, I made my way to the Café du Dôme to spend the evening — and there was Dr. Kaspar meeting me with a hand raised in mock menace:

— Come, Monsieur Joseph, sit here by me. I have been waiting for you... There is a score to settle between us... Why did you tell Martine that God exists?...

— One would think a real offense had been committed!! And what crime is there in a girl's believing in the existence of God? Is that not better for her? And is there anything more charming than to hear a Parisian beauty inquiring about theology?... You are mistaken, my friend — and if it does not please you to hear it, then in your talk keep to the world of microbes! That is your field of specialty, and no doubt it is entertaining!!

He answered me in a tone less heated than before: — "The calamity is those who exploit the idea of belief in God..." — And from the direction of the door rose a loud clamor that cut our talk short, and a troop

of the company came toward us: Suzanne, Léa, Kali, and some acquaintances, and among them a strange man. The waiter came hurrying and drew a second table up to ours; the circle widened, and the introductions began. And when the strange man heard my name, and turned toward Léa, Gibran's words and his gesture were repeated: — "From over there... from Lebanon... near Jerusalem." He showed delight and good cheer, and said he was very happy to meet an Eastern man, a Lebanese... and that he himself was from "Prague," the capital of Hungary, and occupied himself with the study of Eastern languages, above all Syriac. And he asked me whether I knew that language, and I answered yes, with a slight nod of the head and without warming to the matter — for my knowledge of Syriac is very limited indeed: I learned it as a boy in order to serve Mass for my late grandfather, Father Mikhail, and I used to repeat the phrases like a parrot without understanding the meaning of a single word!

But the strange man showed interest, and asked me to pronounce a Syriac phrase so that he might hear the ring of its cadence; and he turned in his seat toward me, all attention and listening, and the companions politely followed suit — even Suzanne and Léa; all of them listened for what would come out of my mouth... And finding myself the target of every eye and ear, I said, without stammer-ing: — "Men fulutin d-shmayo 'iro ishtadar" — whereupon Léa could not hold back her ringing, mocking laugh, and Kali said: That sounds like Hebrew! As for the "Bohemian" scholar, tears all but sprang from his eyes, so deeply was he moved, and he begged me to repeat the phrase

word by word, and kept repeating it after me... Then he asked me for a second phrase, and this time I met his request at once, and in a louder voice: "'Al 'atr w-basmeh tobeh d-heltakh Moryo teda barin w-b-zadiquto. Amen."

Everyone was dumbfounded, astonishment written on their faces, while the orientalist scholar gave himself over to explaining and expounding: that there is a tradition among the Arabs, the Jews, and the Fathers of the Church to the effect that the Syriac tongue was the language of our father Adam — the first man; that some scholars believe the first copy of the Torah was in Syriac... and that Christ and his disciples spoke this language... Finally he said that it had come to his ears that the Maronites in Lebanon still use Syriac in their religious rites... and that he was now on his way to the East to see for himself the excavations in progress there. And he asked me whether I could give him letters of introduction, and I promised to hand him a letter to my friend the Bishop of Beirut and another to my uncle, the Patriarch of the Maronites...

At that moment Mademoiselle Martine appeared at the door, and Dr. Kaspar rose on the instant, saying, in comment on our conversation: — "Ah... now I understand why you 'stand so stoutly at His side' and preach His existence to the girls... you two are kin!..." Then he took his leave and went off...

The Modern Dressmaking House

Elegance and Parisian taste at

the Modern Dressmaking House

Proprietress: Mary Michel Bridi

Nasra stop, opposite al-Labik

Telephone: 31841, Beirut