My letter was sent by a foot-messenger, who was to take an
unlimited time for his journey, so that it was not, I think, until
either the third or the fourth day that the answer arrived. A
couple of horsemen covered with mud suddenly dashed into the little
court of the "locanda" in which I was staying, bearing themselves
as ostentatiously as though they were carrying a cartel from the
Devil to the Angel Michael: one of these (the other being his
attendant) was an Italian by birth (though now completely
orientalised), who lived in my lady's establishment as doctor
nominally, but practically as an upper servant; he presented me a
very kind and appropriate letter of invitation.
It happened that I was rather unwell at this time, so that I named
a more distant day for my visit than I should otherwise have done,
and after all, I did not start at the time fixed. Whilst still
remaining at Beyrout I received this letter, which certainly
betrays no symptom of the pretensions to divine power which were
popularly attributed to the writer:-
"SIR,--I hope I shall be disappointed in seeing you on Wednesday,
for the late rains have rendered the river Damoor if not dangerous,
at least very unpleasant to pass for a person who has been lately
indisposed, for if the animal swims, you would be immerged in the
waters.
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