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The next occasion was during my audience with the emir of Bokhara, in the palace of Samarkand. This prince, who had been represented to me as a person of doubtful character, had been severely examining my countenance as I sat by his side, in order to discover in me a Frenghi in disguise. The readers of my travels are already acquainted with a part of the conversation that took place between us. I hoped to gain him over to our interests, but it cost me a giant's effort not to betray by my countenance, and especially my eyes, the excitement within me; and, although I shook and trembled in every nerve, I was obliged to suppress even the slightest symptom of fear. An old adept in the part I played, I effectually succeeded in preventing a blush, or any change of colour, but I did not feel confident about the result. Let the reader realise my position, when the emir, after an audience of a quarter of an hour, called to him one of his servants, cautiously whispered something in his ear, and, motioning to me with a serious expression of countenance, ordered me to follow his attendant.

I rose quickly from my seat. The servant led me through room after room, and court after court, whilst the uncertainty of my fate filled me with alarm; and, as oppression of heart breeds none other but images of terror, I fancied that this ominous walk was leading me to the torture-chamber, and to that dreadful death which so often had presented itself to my imagination. After some time we came to a dark room, where my guide ordered me to sit down and wait for his return. I remained standing, but in what state of mind my readers may readily imagine. Perhaps I should have felt less terror could I only have known what my death was to be, but this uncertainty was like the torture of hell, and I shall never forget it as long as I live. With a feverish impatience I counted the minutes, until the door should open again. … A few more seconds of torture and the servant appeared. I fixed my eyes upon him, and perceived by the light that entered through the doorway that he did not bring with him the dreaded instruments of the executioner, but carried under his arm, instead, a carefully folded-up bundle. This contained a dress of honour, presented to me by the emir, as well as the 'viaticum' for my long pilgrim road.