The Great White Queen by William le Queux

LEAVING the store of arms we returned to Goliba's house; not by the high road, but by little winding lanes with tunnel-like passages under the overhanging eaves of houses; through a small open square or two, past a few richly-painted and carved doors of tombs, and so on once more to the residence of the old sage, with its spacious courts and beautiful gardens. We passed some handsome blue-tiled public fountains, and some fine buildings several storeys in height, open in the centre with a patio, and surrounded by galleries of carved wood, which seemed to answer to our corn exchanges. One, near Goliba's house, was especially remarkable for its architectural beauty, not only with regard to its interior, but also its magnificent gateway. There were others also of far less pretensions, which answered more to the caravanseri of Samory's country, where the weary animals who had borne their burdens from some far away corner of the mystic land were resting during their sojourn in the city.

When, in the cool dusk of evening we had eaten in the marble court, with its fountains and flowering plants, Omar being waited upon personally by our host, Liola came, and, lounging gracefully against one of the marble columns, gossipped with us. Afterwards, a professional story-teller was introduced to amuse us during the anxious time that must elapse before the fateful hour when the signal for the great uprising would be given.