Novelty may create an
emotion that facts and custom cannot justify.
[Illustration: THE SLAVE MARKET]
"Ah, Tsamanni," says my gossip from the Atlas to the big dilal who led the
prayers, and is in special charge of the children for sale, "I will speak
to this one," and Tsamanni pushes a tiny little girl into his arms. The
child kisses the speaker's hand. Not at all unkindly the Moor takes his
critical survey, and Tsamanni enlarges upon her merits.
"She does not come from the town at all," he says glibly, "but from
Timbuctoo. It is more difficult than ever to get children from there. The
accursed Nazarenes have taken the town, and the slave market droops. But
this one is desirable: she understands needlework, she will be a companion
for your house, and thirty-five dollars is the last price bid."
"One more dollar, Tsamanni. She is not ill-favoured, but she is poor and
thin. Nevertheless say one dollar more," says the Moor.
"The praise to Allah, who made the world," says the dilal piously, and
hurries round the ring, saying that the price of the child is now
thirty-six dollars, and calling upon the buyers to go higher.
I learn that the dilal's commission is two and a half per cent on the
purchase price, and there is a Government tax of five per cent.
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