THE CAMP OF DEATH 
569 
Charles XI I. ’s country. He wanted to keep me as his 
guest for half the year. I could only stay with him 
a few days ; but during those few days I lived the life 
of Nur-ed-Din Ali in the Thousand and One Nights. 
Over against the house in which I lived there was an 
enchanting garden, full of sweet-scented roses and lilacs 
in full bloom. The paths were strewn with chips of 
marble, and in the middle of the garden there was a 
pure white marble basin filled with crystal water. From 
the centre of the basin a fountain shot up, a delicate 
rod of water, which broke at the top and fell back in 
a thousand drops, sparkling like a silver cobweb in the 
sunshine. And when at last I tore myself away from 
these fascinating delights, my generous host pressed into 
my hand a purse overflowing with silver coins. 
I saw before me, every feature distinct, the noble and 
wise countenance of the unhappy Shah, Nasr-ed-Din, as 
he was when, his uniform blazing with jewels, he received 
King Oscar’s embassy in the Imperial Palace at Teheran ; 
and that carried my thoughts back to the Emaret Sepa 
Salar, where we lodged, and where of an evening we 
strolled underneath the spreading planes and cypresses. 
All these scenes of the past flitted through my mind like 
a dream ; but those adventures were as nothing in com- 
parison with what we had just gone through. 
Thus I lay all day long, wide awake, with my eyes 
open, staring at the white covering of the tent, without 
fixing my gaze upon any one definite object, but seeing 
everything in a blurred confused chaos. Once or twice 
only did my vision grow dim and faint, and my thoughts 
muddled ; that was when I dropped off in a half slumber. 
In these few odd moments I imagined myself resting again 
on the green meadow-grass under the shade of the silver 
poplars. How bitter was the awakening to reality ! 
When I came to myself, I fancied I was lying in my 
coffin. The funeral procession had reached the church- 
yard ; the funeral bells had ceased their lugubrious tolling ; 
the graves were almost ready ; the next sandstorm would 
shovel them up level with sand. Who amongst us would 
