CONSTANTINOPLE.
On the next day of my journey to Constantinople, I was awakened early in the morning by the knocking and screams of porters of all kinds. My hearing is not yet accustomed to their voices and language. They sold food supplies, greens, fish, fruits, buza, and so on. I go to the window. In front of me is a crowd of people of different tribes: ‘Turks in military costumes, and in their old attire, in turbans; Armenians in their huge hats, Greeks, Franks, and many Jews who silently and timidly made their way near the wall. Finally, here are the women, wrapped up in such a way that you could only tell by the color of their shoes what nationality they were. Here are carts (a kind of covered wagon drawn by oxen, decorated with ribbons, or cloth rags and bells. This is the carriage of the Turkish ladies. Then there are packs of camels, or a row of donkeys, with bags of water, or with loads of firewood: all this crowded along a narrow, barely paved street and pushed each other. Add to this the packs of nasty and hungry dogs that they wander among all this people, and no one beats them: you admit that I saw a very curious and completely new masquerade for me.
I ordered the barber to be called: a dignified Armenian in a large hat entered, followed by a humble boy who carried a basin, a kind of coffee pot with hot water, soap, razors and a towel. The owner lathered my beard with just the palm of his hand, pulled out a huge razor, and to my surprise, I said that it did not bend in its handle, like our razors, but was simply strengthened, like an ax, and it seemed more convenient to me to chop off my head, or at least cut my throat, than to shave my beard. However, he shaved me so quickly, easily and deftly that I ordered him to come to me every other day to correct his position.
Now I will describe my apartment. This is a small room, with one huge Italian window, which looks out onto the main street of Pera, so that I can look along all sides. This room serves as my bedroom, dining room and living room. From it there is an exit to the vestibule, and from the vestibule there is a door to the balcony or terrace, the main decoration of my palace. Here I spent most of my time, reading, drinking tea, smoking a pipe, and often, on cool May nights, sitting until the sun rose. From the balcony of my story, the Seraglio is completely visible, and it is precisely part of the gardens and harem that are inaccessible to travelers. In them, Justinian's Column rose majestically in front of me. I often pointed the telescope there, so that in the middle of it, although furtively, I could look at some guria of Makhmudov’s harem, but, apart from the gardeners, I never saw anyone, perhaps because the Sultan lived then in Aga-Gan, and all the chambers in the harem5, as I heard, were transported at that time. Dal Be could see the sea, the Princes' Islands and the blue mountains around Olimia. The view is lovely: the neighboring window looked out onto my terrace, and through it I often talked with the beautiful Greek woman. Kokona Katerina was the sister of the deacon of the Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, with a cheerful character. She told me that she really wanted to learn Russian, loved the Edinobrians and was undertaking to teach me Greek. She lived alone with her stepmother, and seemed to be bored by her solitude. I actually took advantage of this incredible bringing together, repeated the Greek language, which I had almost forgotten, used among the people, and then I began to speak to them much more freely. Katerina was truly beautiful and easy to get around with, and since no one came to my balcony, and it was closed on all sides, she, having introduced me to me, got around completely freely. Besides, my sixty liters represented this perfect security; She saw her father in the myth, or her grandfather. We talked, laughed, and one day she even dared to jump onto my balcony and drink tea with me. I asked her to sing a few Greek songs, and she fulfilled my request without excuses. She wanted to see Russian ladies; especially the Russian Tsarina. She asked with curiosity that if she had been in Russia, would she have been allowed to see Her? I wanted to know if they talk about the Greeks; but what occupied her most was her clothing. She could not understand when I assured her that our ladies dress better and richer than Perotok. Knowing that I had guests, she asked not to let anyone on the balcony: I talked, and from then on the balcony became almost my harem. True, Dr. Pinner’s room also had a window onto the balcony; but, in the first place, the doctor was almost never at home, and he never raised the curtain; besides, Katerina did not know cocoon in Hebrew and did not read the Talmud; how could he turn his learned attention to her?