Doubtless this müdir was a hanger-on, perhaps even a member of Ittihad, that secretive "Comité pour l'union et le progrčs," which today held unimpeded dominion over the Caliph's state. He was excessively polite to his visitor. He got up and himself brought the chair to the desk. Most of the time his red-rimmed eyes, with the sparse lashes of red-haired people, looked past Bagradian.

 

 

Gabriel rather stressed his name. The müdir nodded, almost imperceptibly. "The highly esteemed Bagradian family is known to us."

 

 

It cannot be denied that his tone and words produced a certain glow of satisfaction in Gabriel, whose voice became more assured. "Today certain citizens of my village -- I was among them -- have had our passports taken away. Is that official? Did you know of it?"

 

 

After long reflection and fumbling among documents, the müdir announced that, with all the press of official business, he found it impossible to put his hand on every trifle directly. At last light dawned. "Oh, yes, of course. The passports for the interior. That's not an independent ruling of the kazah -- it's a new order from His Excellency the Minister of the Interior."

 

 

Now at last he had found the crumpled sheet, which he spread in front of him. He seemed willing, on request, to read the full text of this decree of His Excellency Taalat Bey. Gabriel asked if the order were to be generally applied. The answer sounded rather evasive. The mass of people would scarcely be affected by it, since usually only the richer shopkeepers, merchants, and such like owned a pass for the interior. Gabriel stared at the long fingernails. "I've lived most of my life abroad, in Paris -- "

 

 

Again the official slightly inclined his head. "We know that, Effendi."

 

 

"And so I'm not very used to these deprivations of liberty."

 

 

The müdir smiled an indulgent smile. "You over-rate the matter, Effendi. This is wartime. And nowadays even German, French, and English citizens find they have to submit to a great deal to which they used not to be accustomed. All over Europe it's much the same as it is here. May I also remind you that this is the war zone of the fourth army, and therefore a military area? It's absolutely essential to keep some control of people's movements."

 

 

These reasons sounded so cogent that Gabriel Bagradian felt relieved. That morning's event, which had brought him to Antioch, suddenly seemed to lose its astringent quality. He had been hearing rumors everywhere of traitors, deserters, spies. The state had to protect itself. Impossible to judge such measures as this by the hole-and-corner methods of Yoghonoluk. And the müdir's further observations were of a kind to allay Armenian mistrust. The Minister had, to be sure, withdrawn all passports, but this did not mean that, in certain cases, new ones might not be procurable. The vilayet office in Aleppo was the competent authority for these. Bagradian Effendi must know himself that the Wali, Djelal Bey, was the most just and benevolent governor of the whole empire. A request, backed by recommendations from these offices, would be sent to Aleppo. . . .