Gaining the street, he wandered along
till he reached the bazaars, intending to waste an hour or two until
Xantippe should have left the house. Then he determined to go back and
see the boy in whom all his hopes and ambitions were centered, who was
the unconscious cause of his villainy and degradation.
There was a large crowd in the bazaars, for a Moolid was being
celebrated. Jugglers, snake-charmers, mountebanks, gipsies, and
dancing-girls attracted hundreds of spectators.
The old men sat in the shadows of their stalls, smoking and drinking
coffee. They smiled gravely at the younger people, who jostled one
another good-humouredly, laughing, singing, quarrelling like children.
Across the roadway hung lamps of coloured glass and tiny red flags
stamped with a white crescent and a star. Torches blazed at intervals,
casting a flickering glow on the excited faces of the crowd.
Gregorio watched without much interest. He had seen a great many
fantasias since he came to Egypt, and they were no longer a novelty to
him. He was annoyed that a race of people whom he despised should be so
merry when he himself had so many troubles to worry him.
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