They did not dare defy him, and had the scribe bring in the Book.
The first climax, however, is reached, and our Scribe thinks it too sad for words.
But he entered the Acropolis a conqueror,” says our Scribe; “he won the battle.
“The realisation is a terrible thing,” writes our Scribe, quoting his Master.
As for the peddling-box, our Scribe will tell of its fate in the following Chapter.
Our Scribe thinks he has said everything when he speaks of her as a huri.
Our Scribe, at least, is persuaded that Sheikh Taleb spoke as a friend.
That is a question which neither our Scribe nor his Master will help us to answer.
Never did he seem so careless, our Scribe asserts, and so jovial and child-like in his joys.
Is the scribe, for example, to be regarded as doing nothing when he reads or writes?
