EX-KING OF AFGHANISTAN

brisk and sustained. They were Italians, in the service
of the Afghan Government, waiting for the work that
never came and idling their time away in an alien land
that they hated.

There was an ex-colonel in the Italian cavalry, who
seemed the chief spokesman of the group. Speaking in
French, he invited me to join the party. They were
curious, and interested in my journey. They took exis-
tence as a joke. " We have a great time," they said.
" Look how we are enjoying ourselves, in this lovely
hotel, with such lovely women all around us, such cheap
drinks, such charming natives, and such congenial
company. . . ."

And they looked ruefully at the empty tables before
them, at the bare and dirty walls of the depressing room,
and surveyed their own loneliness — and thirst.

I was to make a friend among them whom I shall
always remember. He was sitting silent, on a hard
chair, his eyes mournful and plaintive. He introduced
himself to me, lifting a wide, black hat that seemed out
of place in that ugly room.

" I am Signor Pierri," he said. " I speak English. I
am a wireless engineer in the service of the Afghan
Government, but there is no wireless."

Thus having delightfully played the host, he raised
his hat again, bowed, and continued to regard the floor
with a sombre expression.

All these men were pathetic outcasts from their native
boulevards, existing in a city to which they would never
grow acclimatised. They sadly lacked every amenity
to which they had become accustomed. They had no
work and no recreation. The Italian cavalry colonel
fumed and swore in his exasperation. His grey beard
wagged as he chattered. Not all of them were even so
placid as he.

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