The coachman saw
the signal, he pulled in his horses and took me into the diligence, and
told the ostler to lead my dead-beat horse to the stable.
The diligence rumbled over the Lebanon, and reached Beyrout twenty-four
hours before the steamer sailed--the steamer by which Richard was going
back to England. For when once he had received his recall, he never
looked behind him, nor packed up anything, but went straight away from
Damascus, though it was the place where he had spent two of the happiest
years of his life. As the diligence turned into Beyrout I caught sight
of him, walking alone about the streets, and looking sad and serious.
Not even a kawwass was sent to attend him, though this is always the
usual courtesy paid a Consul in the East, nor was there any show of
honour or respect. The jackals are always ready to slight the dead
lion. But I was there, thank God; and he was so surprised and rejoiced
when he greeted me that his whole face was illuminated. But he only
said, "Thank you. Bon sang ne peut mentir." We had twenty-four hours
to take comfort and counsel together. It was well that I was with
him. Everybody called, and everybody regretted, except our Consul-
General, who cut us. The French Consul-General made us take up our
abode with him for those twenty-four hours. I do not know whether
Richard felt the neglect or not. I only know that I felt it terribly.
Any Consul with one atom of good feeling would at least have paid his
fallen colleague proper respect until he had quitted Eastern ground;
but the disgrace was to himself, not to Richard.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144