A Steam Voyage down the Danube, Volume 1 by Michael J. Quin

The vice-governor was a fat, sickly-looking man, about fifty years of age, and grave even to stupidity. He could not hold out his curiosity beyond the ordinary question, whence we had come, what we wanted, and whither we were going. Having exhausted these topics he sunk again into a sort of Sybarite dreamy torpor, as if the odour of his tobacco were the perfume of Paradise. It was certainly very fragrant, and his coffee was the best I ever tasted. The physician was still a young man, but he looked also pale, haggard and nervous. He complained much of the air of Vidin, as peculiarly unwholesome; it was, he said, extremely cold, as compared with that of Stamboul, where he had lived for thirteen years. The town, and especially the palace, were exposed on one side to the vapours of the Danube, which here presents an extensive surface to the rays of the sun, and on the other to the freezing blasts which rush down from the Balkan mountains, He was assuredly much discontented with his lot, and confessed with an involuntary pang, which flung a strong expression of remorse athwart his forehead, that he had adopted the Mahometan faith.

♦ HUSSEIN PACHA ♦