The camp was pitched, the plain glittered with tents. The
camels, falling on their knees, crouched in groups, the merchandise
piled up in masses by their sides. The unharnessed horses rushed
neighing about the plain, tossing their glad heads, and rolling in the
unaccustomed pasture. Spreading their mats, and kneeling towards Mecca,
the pilgrims performed their evening orisons. Never was thanksgiving
more sincere. They arose: some rushed into the river, some lighted
lamps, some pounded coffee.[19] Troops of smiling villagers arrived with
fresh provisions, eager to prey upon such light hearts and heavy purses.
It was one of those occasions when the accustomed gravity of the Orient
disappears. Long through the night the sounds of music and the shouts of
laughter were heard on the banks of that starry river; long through the
night you might have listened with enchantment to the wild tales of the
storier, or gazed with fascination on the wilder gestures of the dancing
girls.[20]
The great bazaar of Bagdad afforded an animated and sumptuous spectacle
on the day after the arrival of the caravan. All the rare and costly
products of the world were collected in that celebrated mart: the shawls
of Cachemire and the silks of Syria, the ivory, and plumes, and gold
of Afric, the jewels of Ind, the talismans of Egypt, the perfumes and
manuscripts of Persia, the spices and gums of Araby, beautiful horses,
more beautiful slaves, cloaks of sable, pelisses of ermine, armour alike
magnificent in ornament and temper, rare animals, still rarer birds,
blue apes in silver collars, white gazelles bound by a golden chain,
greyhounds, peacocks, paroquets.
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