At four o'clock the following day I went on board the steamer off to
England. On returning to the quay, I found his faithful servant Habib,
who had also followed Richard all the way, but had arrived just ten
minutes too late, only in time to see the steamer go out. He flung
himself down on the quay in a passion of tears.
I took the night diligence back to Damascus. In spite of the August
weather it was a cold, hard, seven hours' drive over the Lebanon. I had
brought nothing with me; my clothes were dry and stiff, and I was dead
tired. On the road I passed our honorary dragoman. From sheer habit I
called out to him, but he shook his head and rode on. It was one of my
reminders that "Le roi est mort." I suppose the rule extends everywhere,
but perhaps the king's widow feels it most. It was not all like this
though, for I shall never forget the kindness which was showered upon
me by many during my last days in Syria.
In due time I arrived at the khan, or diligence station, where I had
left my horse two days previously. I slept there for two hours. Early
next morning I rode to see a friend, who kindly insisted on my staying a
day with her. Here Charles Tyrwhitt-Drake, a kawwass, and servant and
horse met me, and escorted me back to Bludan. I arrived home ill, tired,
and harassed. I was thankful to find there a woman friend who had come
over to keep me company. She was as much grieved as I was myself, and
we wept together.
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