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 Nothing delighted me more than an adventure—and such an uncommon one. Until late into the night we talked about her trip, studying it in its various aspects. We decided that I should first write to the convent where I stayed in Paris to ask if they would take an Armenian lady. Later I was to write to the Compagnie Fabre and engage her stateroom. "But the passport," I cried suddenly. "You must have a passport, you know, to leave Turkey."

"Oh, that I have thought of, and I have it all arranged. You know Sourpouy, the Armenian girl, the lace-vendor of the village? She is tall like me, with brown hair and brown eyes. I shall ask her to go to Athens for me, to buy me some laces there. I shall pay her expenses, and a good commission. She must, of course, have a teskeré—yes?"

"Naturally."

"Well, she will get it. She will bring it here. I will examine it, and so will Leila. While she examines it, she smokes; but Leila is very awkward—the paper comes near her match, and it burns. You see?"

"I see, only"

"Only what burns is not the passport. I am very angry. I scold Leila, and then Leila says: 'It is an omen for you not to send poor Sourpouy, because it means that Sourpouy is going to drown.' And that makes Sourpouy very super