Good night. A few days ago I saw him leave your house. Farhat who was stranded on a desolate roadside until one fateful day he passed the traveling caravan of the beautiful princess Anoush. ‘Certainly no one will find it. We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. ” He passed his hand wearily over his forehead. "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. He returned, blue towel in hand. Kneebone, he took his departure. It was then that the young man entered his thought with some permanency: because there was no apparent reason for his joining the tour, since from the beginning he had shown no interest in anything.
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