Tophane Square in Constantinople has always been bustling with crowds and noise, but at 6 o'clock in the evening on August 16, it was quiet and lifeless, almost desolate.It still offers fascinating views from the heights of the port leading to the Bosphorus, but there are few people in it.A few foreigners scurry by on the narrow, dirty, muddy, yellow-dog-blocked side streets leading to the outskirts of Pella.It is a residential area specially reserved for Europeans, and the stone houses stand out in black and white against the hilly cypress forest. The square is always picturesque—even without the colorful costumes to accentuate its close-ups—and is a delight to the eye: its Mohammedan Mosque with its slender minarets and its beautiful fountains in the Arabic style are now only visible as the sky. small roof.Its shops sell all kinds of sorbets and sweets, and the racks of pumpkins, melons from Smyrna, and grapes from Shkoder contrast with the various stalls of the spice merchants and rosary sellers.Hundreds of colorful canoes are moored in its harbor, and the oars under the crossed hands of the oarsmen do not so much beat as they gently brush against the blue of Kinkerna and the Bosphorus. colored sea water.

But at this time, where are these people who are used to wandering around Tophane Square?These Persians in their curly kid hats, these Greeks with their countless pleats dangling gracefully, these Circassians almost always in military uniform, these The Arnotts with sunburnt skin at the opening, and finally these Turks, these Ottoman Turks, the descendants of ancient Byzantines and old Istanbul, yes, where are they all going up? Of course there is no need to ask the two foreigners, the two Westerners, who are walking around the square almost alone, with their noses upturned, questioning eyes, and hesitant steps: they don't know how to answer. of.

But it doesn't stop there.Even in cities outside the port a tourist can recognize this peculiar deserted silence, between the ancient palace and Tophane Pier on the right bank connected to the left bank by three pontoon bridges. On the other side of this deep gap in Kinkerna, the whole basin of Constantinople seemed to be sleeping.Is there no one, then, at the Burnu Palace?In the mosques of Ahmad, Baizidier, Hagia Sophia, Suleimanier, etc., there are no more believers, pilgrims?The watchman of the Selasskira bell tower, like his counterpart who guards the Galata bell tower, is still taking his siesta, though both watch out for the constant fires in the city?Indeed, while the Austrian, French, and English steamer fleets, passenger steamers, canoes, and steamboats crowded around the pontoons and the houses whose foundations were immersed in the waters of Kinkerner, even the incessant activity of the port seemed to be an outburst. Stopped due to some glitches.

Is this the Constantinople so admired, the dream realized by the will of peace?This is exactly the question that two foreigners strolling in the square are thinking about. The reason why they don't answer this question is not because they don't understand the language of this country.They spoke adequate Turkish: one had used it in business for twenty years, and the other, though at his side as a servant, often served as his master's secretary. These are two Dutchmen, born in Rotterdam, Jan van Mittain and his servant Bruno, whose strange fate has just pushed them to the frontier at the very end of Europe.

Van Mettaine--everyone knew him--was a man of about forty-five, with fair hair, sky-blue eyes, yellow whiskers and goatee, no moustache, rosy cheeks, Slightly shorter nose, powerful head, broad shoulders, taller than average stature, just swollen belly, feet not graceful but strong--a man of integrity indeed, quite a man of his country. Mentally speaking, Van Mettain's temperament seems a little weak.There was no doubt that he belonged to that mild-tempered, easy-going type of man who avoids argument, is ready to concede in every way, and is not born to command but to obey.They are peaceful and calm people who are usually said to have no grit, even if they think they do.Their tempers were not the worse for it.Once, but only once in his life, the impatient Van Mettaine intervened in an argument with the most serious consequences.He lost his personality completely that day, but since then he has recovered his personality as if he came home. In fact, it might have been better for him to concede, and if he had known what the future would be, No doubt he would not hesitate.But people cannot predict future events, and they will be the lessons of this incident.

"Well, my lord?" Bruno asked him when the two reached Place Tophane. "How is it, Bruno?" "We're already in Constantinople!" "That's right, Bruno, in Constantinople, that is to say, thousands of miles away from Rotterdam!" "Do you finally feel," Bruno asked him, "that we are far enough from Rotterdam?" "I never feel too far away from it!" replied Van Mettain, lowering his voice, as if Holland was close enough to hear him. Bruno is van Mittern's absolutely loyal servant.The honest man looked a little like his master—at least so far as his respect would allow: it was the habit of years of living together.In 20 years, they may not have been separated for a day.If Bruno was less than a friend at home, he was more than a servant.He was at his service intelligently and methodically, willing to suggest something that would benefit Van Mettain, or even make his master listen to some rebuke he would gladly receive.What makes him angry is that his master obeys everyone's orders, does not resist the will of others, and lacks individuality in short.

"Woe to you!" he would often say to his master, "woe to me, too!" What should be added is that Bruno is 45 years old. He was born to love to stay at home, and he can't bear to travel. It is the habit of weighing himself, so that his handsome appearance does not suffer any damage.When he started working for Van Mittain, he weighed less than 100 catties.So for a Dutchman, he is so skinny that he can't face anyone.However, in less than a year, relying on the excellent diet system at home, he gained 30 catties, and he was able to show his face everywhere.Thanks to his master, he now has a decent look and a weight of 160 catties, which is completely reasonable among his compatriots.Besides, he should be more modest, so he plans to reach 200 catties in his later years.

In short, Bruno was attached to his home, to his native city, to his country--a country captured on the North Sea--and he would never obediently leave the Newhaven Canal without serious circumstances. Residence, in his opinion the beautiful city of Rotterdam, the number one city in the Netherlands, and the Netherlands, arguably the most beautiful kingdom in the world. Yes, no doubt, but it is equally true that on that day Bruno was already in Constantinople, ancient Byzantium, Istanbul of the Turks, capital of the Ottoman Empire. After all, who was Van Mettain? —just a rich merchant in Rotterdam, a tobacco wholesaler, co-signatory of quality products from Havana, Maryland, Virginia, Valina, Puerto Rico, and especially Macedonia, Syria, Asia Minor.

For twenty years, Van Mettain had a large tobacco business with the Kerabon Company of Constantinople, which shipped its reputable and reliable tobacco to five continents of the world.Constant association with this important trading house gave the Dutch wholesaler a mastery of the Turkish language, the Ottoman language spoken throughout the empire.He spoke the language like a true subject of the Ottoman Empire, or like a minister of the "Emir of Momonan", the prefect of the believers.Bruno, out of goodwill, knew as much about his master's business as has been said above, and was equally proficient in speaking the language.

There was even an agreement between the two eccentrics that when they arrived in Turkey, they talked privately only in Turkish.So apart from their attire, it is likely that they were actually two Ottomans of ancient blood.Besides, this view, though it displeased Bruno, pleased Van Mittern. Yet every morning the obedient servant willingly asks his master: "Efendum, emriniz ne dir?" This sentence means: "Sir, what do you want?" The latter replied in fluent Turkish: "Sitrimi, pantabunymi fourtcha." Means: "Swipe my dress and my trousers!" For the above reasons, we shall see that Van Mittern and Brunaud had no difficulty in walking about the great city of Constantinople: first of all, because they spoke the country very fluently. secondly, that they must be greeted with kindness in the Kerabon company, the head of which had already gone to Holland once and, after making comparisons, struck up a friendship with his business partner in Rotterdam.This was the main reason why van Mettaine even thought of settling in Constantinople after he left his country; Take a walk on Puhane Square.

However, in the current night, some pedestrians began to appear, but mainly foreigners rather than Turks.However, there were still two or three subjects of the sultan walking and chatting, and the owner of a coffee shop built deep in the square calmly lined up the unoccupied tables. "Before one o'clock," said a Turk, "the sun will sink in the waters of the Bosphorus, and then..." "By then," replied the other, "we'll be able to eat, drink, and especially smoke as we please!" "It's a bit too long for this Ramadan fast!" "Like all fasts!" On the other hand, two foreigners are also walking in front of the coffee shop and talking at the same time: "They are astonishing, the Turks!" said one of them. "Indeed a tourist who visits Constantinople during this nasty Lent will make a dismal impression on Mahmud's capital!" "Oh!" retorted another, "Sundays are no happier in London than here! The Turks fast during the day, and they make up for it at night. With the sound of cannon announcing sunset, the smell of roasting meat, of frying fish, of long pipes The smoke of pipes and cigarettes has restored the streets to their usual appearance!" The two foreigners must have had something to say, because at this moment the coffee shop owner called to his assistant and shouted: "Get everything ready! In an hour's time, the fasting crowd will be all over the place, and I don't know who to listen to!" The two foreigners continued their conversation, saying: "I don't know, but I think Constantinople looks more interesting during the fast! If the day here is as bleak, gloomy, and miserable as Ash Wednesday. Its night is like Carnival." Such a happy, boisterous, crazy Tuesday!" "It really is a contrast!" The Turk looked at them enviously as the two of them exchanged views in this way. "How happy they are, these foreigners!" said one of them. "They can drink, eat and smoke if they want!" "Perhaps so," replied the other, "but they can't find a lamb kebab, a bowl of chicken risotto, a piece of baklava, or even a slice of watermelon or cucumber so small... " "Because they don't know where the good places are! Spend a few sellers who can always find a good deal, they're licensed!" "By Allah!" said a Turk at this moment, "my cigarettes have dried up in my pockets, and it's not that I voluntarily throw away a few Latakias!" Regardless of the risks that would be incurred, and not being restricted by his beliefs, this believer took out a cigarette and lit it, and took two or three puffs in succession. "Beware!" said his companion to him, "if an impatient Mohammedan comes, you..." "Okay! I'll be fine if I swallow the smoke, and he can't see anything!" replied the man. So the two of them continued their walk, loitering in the square and then up the nearby streets leading to the suburbs of Pella and Galata. "It is evident, my lord," cried Bruno, looking both to the right and to the left, "that this is a strange city! Since leaving our inn I have seen only the ghosts of some of its inhabitants, Constantinople Phantom of man! Everything is asleep in the streets, on the quays, in the squares, not even these thin yellow dogs stand up and bite your calves. Come! Come! No matter what the tourists say, travel does not A little good! I still prefer our pretty city of Rotterdam, and our gray skies of old Holland!" "Be patient, Bruno, be patient!" replied the calm Van Mittern. "We've only been there a few hours! But I admit, it's not this Constantinople that I'm dreaming of! We thought we were going into the middle of the Orient, immersed in dreams (of the Thousand and One Nights), but in reality Found imprisoned in..." "In a great monastery," continued Bruno, "among gloomy people like hermit monks!" "My friend Kerabong will explain to us what it all means!" said van Mettaine. "But where are we now?" asked Bruno. "What square is this? Which pier is this?" "If I'm not mistaken," replied van Mettaine, "we are at Tophane Square at the end of Kinkerna. This is the Bosporus around the coast of Asia, and at the On the other side you can catch a glimpse of the palace's spire and the Turkish city stacked above it." "Palace!" cried Bruno. "What! This is the palace of the Sultan, where he lives with his eighty thousand concubines!" "Eighty thousand, that's a lot, Bruno! I think that's too much—even for a Turk! In Holland a man has only one wife, and sometimes it's hard to reason at home!" "Okay, okay, my master! Let's not talk about these things... Try to talk about these things as little as possible!" Then, Bruno turned to the coffee shop, which was still deserted: "Oh! But I think I see a coffee shop there," he said. "We're exhausted from coming to this suburb of Pella! The Turkish sun is as hot as a furnace, and I won't be surprised if my master needs to cool off!" "You mean you're thirsty!" replied Van Mettaine. "Okay, let's go to this coffee shop." The two sat down at a small table in front of the store. "Is the boss there?" Bruno called, knocking on the table in the European way. No one showed up. Bruno greeted loudly. The coffee shop owner came out of the shop, but he showed no rush to come over. "Foreigners!" he murmured as soon as he caught sight of the two customers seated at the table, "so they really believe..." At last he came close. "Boss, bring us a bottle of cherry water, very fresh!" Van Mittain ordered. "Wait for the gunfire!" the boss replied. "What, you have to wait for the cannon to get the cherry juice?" Bruno cried. "Then don't want it, just have peppermint water, boss, have peppermint water!" "If you don't have cherry water," went on Van Mittern, "give us a rose confection! It will be the best thing if I give it to my guide!" "Wait for the gunfire!" repeated the coffee shop owner, shrugging his shoulders. "But who is he against when the cannon fires?" Bruno asked his master. "Look!" said the master again, always so easygoing, "if you don't have dessert, bring us a moha coffee... a sorbet... whatever you like, my friend!" "Wait for the gunfire!" "Waiting for the gunfire?" repeated Van Mettaine. "Not early!" said the boss. He also stopped talking about politeness and went back to the shop. "Well, my lord," said Bruno, "let us get out of this shop! Nothing can be done here! Do you see, this savage Turk, he answers you with the sound of cannon!" "Come on, Bruno," replied Van Mittern. “We will definitely find a more accommodating coffee shop!” So the two returned to the square. "Obviously, my lord," said Bruno, "it is not too early for us to meet your friend, Lord Kerabon. If he is in his firm, we shall know what to do!" "Yes, Bruno, but be patient! We were told we could see him from this square..." "Not before seven o'clock, master! It is here, in the port of Tophane, that his boat will fetch him and take him from the other side of the Bosphorus to his place in Śzuta. to the villa in the "Indeed, Bruno, and of course the venerable wholesaler will keep us informed of what's going on here! Oh! This man is a real Ottoman, a follower of the 'Old Turks' party. These people would never Tolerating everything that is present, both in ideas and customs. They are opposed to any invention of modern industry, prefer stagecoaches to a railway, and dhows to a steamboat! For twenty years we have been together In business, I have never seen any change in the views of my friend Kerabong, however slight. It was three years ago when he came to Rotterdam to see me, and he was traveling on the Stage Express. Come on, it's been a month on the road! You know, Bruno, I've seen many obstinate people in my life, but I've never seen anyone as obstinate as he!" "Here he is, he will surprise you in Constantinople!" said Bruno. "I'm sure," replied Van Mettaine, "and I'd rather surprise him! But at least in his circle we shall be in real Turkey. Oh! my friend Kerabon Never agree to wear a soldier's dress, these new Turk's dresses and red caps! . . . " "When they take off their red caps," Bruno laughed, "it's like uncorking a bottle." "Ah! the dear and unchangeable Kerabon!" went on Van Mettaine. "He'll be dressed the same way he came to see me on the other side of Europe, flared turban, flaxen or ribbed leather robe..." "What! He's a date-palm merchant!" cried Bruno. "Yes, but a merchant who sells golden dates... even eats them at every meal! He does a business that really fits the country! Tobacco wholesaler! In a place where people work from morning to night and even evening to morning How can he not get rich in a smoking city?" "What? People are smoking? But where do you see these smoking people, my master? On the contrary, no one smokes, no one, and I was expecting to meet piles of turkey at their door." People, smoking hookahs in the shape of snakes, or holding long cherrywood pipes in their hands and amber pipes in their mouths! But no! Not even a cigar! Not even a cigarette!" "That's because you don't know anything about it," replied van Mettaine, "but the streets of Rotterdam are certainly more smoggy than the streets of Constantinople!" "Oh, that's right!" said Bruno. "Are you sure we're not going the wrong way? Is this the capital of Turkey? We bet we're going in the opposite direction. It's not Kinkerna at all, it's Tamis with thousands of steamboats! Look at this mosque over there, it's not Hagia Sophia, it's St. Paul! Is Constantinople really this city? No way! It's London!" "Restrain yourself, Bruno," replied Van Mittain. "I think you're overexcited for a Dutch kid! Be as calm, patient, calm as your master and don't be surprised by anything. We left Rotterdam after... you know what happened... ..." "Not bad!... Not bad!..." Bruno replied with a nod. "We came here via Paris, Saint-Gotard, Italy, Brindisi, the Mediterranean, and you'd hate to believe that after an eight-day voyage the mail ship took us to London Bridge instead of Gala Tower Bridge!" "But..." Bruno said. "I would even advise you never to make such a joke in front of my friend Kerabong! He's likely to be very annoying, argumentative, opinionated..." "I'll take care, my lord," replied Bruno, "but since we can't drink cold drinks here, I think smoking a pipe is all right! You don't think it's inappropriate, do you?" "Absolutely not, Bruno. As a tobacconist, there is nothing more pleasant than seeing people smoking! I even regret that nature only gave us one mouth! The nose is really here for snuff of……" "And teeth are for chewing tobacco!" said Bruno. While talking, he filled the colorful and huge ceramic pipe with tobacco, lit it with a lighter and took a few puffs, showing a satisfied expression. But at this moment, the two Turks who opposed the fasting during Ramadan appeared in the square again.The man who was smoking his cigarette indifferently happened to see Bruno wandering about with a pipe in his mouth. "In the name of Allah," he said to his companion, "that is another damned foreigner who dares to disregard the prohibition of the Koran! I will not tolerate him..." "At least put out your cigarette!" the companion told him. "good!" So he threw away his cigarette and walked straight up to the venerable Dutchman, who hadn't expected to be questioned like this. "Wait for the gunfire!" he said. He snatched the pipe abruptly. "Ah! my pipe!" cried Bruno, but his master could not persuade him. "Wait for the gunfire! Christ Dog." "You are the Turkish dog yourself!" "Calm down, Bruno," said Van Mittern. "At least make him return my pipe!" retorted Bruno. "Wait for the cannon!" said the Turk at last, tucking his pipe into the folds of his robe. "Come here, Bruno," said Van Mittern at this moment. "Never break the customs of the country you visit!" "The custom of robbers!" "I told you to come here. My friend Kerabong won't be in this square until seven o'clock, so we'll keep walking and we'll meet him then!" Van Mettaine dragged Bruneau away, and Bruneau was furious that his pipe had been taken so roughly, which, being a real smoker, he wanted with all his heart. As they walked away, the two Turks were talking: "These foreigners really think they can do anything!..." "Even smoking before the sun goes down!  …" "Do you want a fire?" said one of them, lighting another cigarette. "Very gladly!" replied the other.

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