far gone to eat.  Even the mules of the Susi tribesmen were not in a very promising condition.  It was an easy task to count their ribs, and they were badly in need of rest and a few square meals.  Tied in the covered cloisters of the fandak there was some respite for them from the attack of mosquitoes, but the donkeys, being cheap and of no importance, were left to all the torments that were bound to be associated with the place.

Only one human being faced the glare of the light and trod fearlessly through the mire that lay eight or ten inches deep on the ground, and he was a madman, well-nigh as tattered and torn as the one I had angered in the Kaisariyah on the morning after my arrival in the city.  This man’s madness took a milder turn.  He went from one donkey to another, whispering in its ear, a message of consolation I hope and believe, though I had no means of finding out.  When I entered the fandak he came running up to me in a style suggestive of the gambols of a playful dog, and I was exceedingly annoyed by a thought that he might not know any difference between me and his other friends.  There was no need to be uneasy, for he drew himself up to his full height, made a hissing noise in his throat, and spat fiercely at my shadow.  Then he returned to the stricken donkeys, and the keeper of the fandak, coming out to welcome me, saw his more worthy visitor.  Turning from me with “Marhababik” ("You are welcome”) just off his lips, he ran forward and kissed the hem of the madman’s djellaba.

A madman is very often an object of veneration in Morocco, for his brain is in divine keeping, while his body is on the earth.  And yet the Moor is not altogether logical in his attitude to the “afflicted of Allah.”  While so much liberty is granted to the majority of the insane that feigned madness is quite common among criminals in the country, less fortunate men who have really become mentally afflicted, but are not recognised as insane, are kept chained to the walls of the Marstan—­half hospital, half prison—­that is attached to the most great mosques.  I have been assured that they suffer considerably at the hands of most gaoler-doctors, whose medicine is almost invariably the stick, but I have not been able to verify the story, which is quite opposed to Moorish tradition.  The mad visitor to the fandak did not disturb the conversation with the keeper and the Susi muleteers, but he turned the head of a donkey in our direction and talked eagerly to the poor animal, pointing at me with outstretched finger the while.  The keeper of the fandak, kind man, made uneasy by this demonstration, signed to me quietly to stretch out my hand, with palm open, and directed to the spot where the madman stood, for only in that way could I hope to avert the evil eye.