bronislavvdraws: in the evening, when we had shut-to the gate, all guests would assemble, either in
bronislavvdraws:in the evening, when we had shut-to the gate, all guests would assemble, either in my room or in ali’s, and coffee and stories would go round until the last meal, and after it, till sleep came. on stormy nights we brought in brushwood and dung and lit a great fire in the middle of the floor. about it would be drawn the carpets and the saddle-sheepskins, and in its light we would tell over our own battles, or hear the visitors’ traditions. the leaping flames chased our smoke-muffled shadows strangely about the rough stone wall behind us, distorting them over the hollows and projections of its broken face. when these stories came to a period, our tight circle would shift over, uneasily, to the other knee or elbow; while coffee-cups went clinking round, and a servant fanned the blue reek of the fire towards the loophole with his cloak, making the glowing ash swirl and sparkle with his draught. till the voice of the story-teller took up again, we would hear the rain-spots hissing briefly as they dripped from the stone-beamed roof into the fire’s heart. -- source link