Saturday. (…) In the evening, old man who comes to us with his long sickle, which he holds by the middle; he has met Bonaparte and gives us a precise description of him: “small, no beard, the most beautiful face he ever saw, as beautiful as a woman with the hair all yellow; he gave alms equally to the Jews, the Christians, the Muslims.” The old man tells us he is bored and would like us to take him with us in our country. Is an opium smoker; the only effect it has on him is that he stays longer on top of his wife, sometimes one hour. He was rich once, was married twenty-one times and ruined himself.

On this day after lunch we had dancers, the famous Hassan El-Bilbesi, and another one, with musicians.

Hassan El-Bilbesi and his companion. The costume, for both of them, large pants and en embroidered jacket, eyes painted with antimony (kohl) - the jacket comes down to the epiglottis while the pants, held together by a huge belt of cashmere folded many times over, only start at the pubis. Thus the whole belly, the lower back and the upper parts of the bottom are naked, seen through a black gauze stretched between the lower and upper clothes. It wrinkles on the hips like a transparent wave following their every movements. The sour flute - tarabouk - sounds in one’s chest - the singer dominates everything. The dancers come and go. Inexpressiveness of the face under the make-up and the sweat running. The effect comes from the severity of the head with the lascivious body movements; sometimes they nearly fall over on their back, on the ground, like a woman about to lie down, and rises suddenly with a sudden jolt - like a tree which rises when the wind abates.