Those of the crowd who were patrons of the market held steadily amain,
and, leaving their mounts outside, passed through the gates through
which there was no admittance for mere idlers and mean folk. Within the
vast quadrangular space of bare, dry ground, enclosed by dust-coloured
walls, there was more space. The sale of slaves had not yet begun and
was not due to begin for another hour, and meanwhile a little trading
was being done by those merchants who had obtained the coveted right to
set up their booths against the walls; they were vendors of wool, of
fruit, of spices, and one or two traded in jewels and trinkets for the
adornment of the Faithful.
A well was sunk in the middle of the ground, a considerable octagon with
a low parapet in three steps. Upon the nethermost of these sat an aged,
bearded Jew in a black djellaba, his head swathed in a coloured
kerchief. Upon his knees reposed a broad, shallow black box, divided
into compartments, each filled with lesser gems and rare stones, which
he was offering for sale; about him stood a little group of young Moors
and one or two Turkish officers, with several of whom the old Israelite
was haggling at once.
The whole of the northern wall was occupied by a long penthouse, its
contents completely masked by curtains of camel-hair; from behind it
proceeded a subdued murmur of human voices. These were the pens in
which were confined the slaves to be offered for sale that day.
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