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bargaining as he does in the money he will earn from the trip. In a proper bargain, both people gain honor.” I folded my hands in my lap and remained quiet in the face of this hard lesson.
    There was a warm breeze coming from the sea, but inside the small yayli it was hot. The driver explained that the top must remain up because the roads were dry and dusty. Graham and I were so close to each other that I could feel the warmth of his body, and when our hands brushed, our damp skin clung together for a moment.
    We passed a garrison, the second one I had noticed. I wanted so much to understand all that I was seeing that I could not keep from asking questions. “Why are there so many Turkish soldiers stationed here?”
    â€œTurkish soldiers are everywhere,” Graham said. “The sultan is afraid of rebellion. He keeps his soldiers not only in Beirut but throughout his empire—Albania,Mesopotamia, Armenia, Macedonia, Palestine.”
    â€œWhy is he afraid?” I had never had so interesting or attractive a teacher at Miss Mumford’s school.
    â€œThe Ottoman Empire once had a constitutional government, but Abdülhamid II put an end to all of that. Now, after years of the sultan’s tyranny, the people are impatient to rule their own lands—if the European powers will allow it.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œGermany, England, France, and Russia all have a foot in the door of the Ottoman empire.” Graham pointed to a large building with a sign in both English and Arabic. “There in the American college they are turning out Protestants. The Scottish have schools for Muslims and schools for Jews, as well. The Germans are in the game with a very nice hospital and orphanage for Muslims. On the other side of the city the Jesuits and the Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul are doing their good works for France, and there is a Jewish college. As I said, everyone has a foot in the door.”
    It sounded to me like children fighting over toys, and I thought of Father and his trips to get and trade countries. It made me wonder what he would make of my escape with Graham. I calmed myself by believing that he would surelyapprove of all I was learning.
    The yayli made its way along a winding road bordered with pines and small whitewashed villages where chickens were taking dust baths in the road. Goats ran beside our carriage like coach dogs. Women paused from drawing water, and men from plowing, to watch us pass.
    When we reached Mount Dimitri, Graham helped me out of the yayli and sent the driver away, telling him to return in an hour. On one side of us was a small cemetery, on the other a grove of pines, and in the distance a city of white building blocks perched one upon another. Beyond the city was the sea. I thought even the finest painter could not invent such a handsome picture.
    â€œIf you know your Old Testament,” Graham said, “you will know the Syrian gods are gods of the hills.” He smiled at me. “Are you satisfied with your escape?”
    I couldn’t hide my delight. “I can’t remember being so happy.”
    â€œThat is an exaggeration, surely,” Graham said, but he looked pleased.
    He lay down on the grass, tilting his hat over his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun, and I settled next to him. Though there was no living thing about but the occasional bird, I felt very daring lying there in the openbeside him for all to see.
    â€œCan there be any place as peaceful as this?” I asked.
    â€œPeaceful?” Graham said. “You should know that half the people who live here in Beirut are the survivors of massacres, drought, persecutions, hunger, religious wars, and tyranny. And if that weren’t enough, we British and the Europeans are making plans for Beirut’s future that have nothing to do with Beirut’s welfare.”
    I sat up, indignant. “You are doing exactly what you did in Istanbul.”