That is a natural gift.
Here is what I recognized as I wandered about haphazard: first, there
was the "douma," which is the town hall, where the "golova," or mayor,
resides; if you had done me the honor to accompany me, I would have
taken you to the promenade of Krasnoia-Gora on the left bank of the
Koura, the Champs Elysees of the place, something like the Tivoli of
Copenhagen, or the fair of the Belleville boulevard with its
"Katchelis," delightful seesaws, the artfully managed undulations of
which will make you seasick. And everywhere amid the confusion of
market booths, the women in holiday costume, moving about with faces
uncovered, both Georgians and Armenians, thereby showing that they are
Christians.
As to the men, they are Apollos of the Belvedere, not so simply
clothed, having the air of princes, and I should like to know if they
are not so. Are they not descended from them? But I will genealogize
later on. Let us continue our exploration at full stride. A minute lost
is ten lines of correspondence, and ten lines of correspondence
is--that depends on the generosity of the newspaper and its managers.
Quick to the grand caravanserai.
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