348
CAIRO TO DAMASCUS
a tiny, hourglass-shaped brass pot, added a spoonful of coffee,
then sugar, then a pinch of cardamon seed. He buried the pot
in the coals until the coffee came to a boil. Then he poured
some in one demi-tasse cup, then in another, evenly distributing the frothy head. I sipped the delicious brew, the cardamon
seeds giving it a rare oriental aroma unlike anything served on
the other side of the Atlantic. When we had finished, the
priest Said:
"I have burdened you with our plight. Forgive me. I hope
you will sleep well." With this he left me after insisting that
I sleep in his room.
Breakfast the next morning consisted of coffee, bread, and
jam, preceded and followed by profuse apologies. "Will you
stay for dinner?" Reverend Depoyan asked. "I promise you it
will be different."
"Thank you, but I must visit my Egyptian friends," I said.
"We have a few chickens left. We will kill one in your
honor, the plumpest one in the lot," he suggested hopefully,
"and have it with pilav and rich sauce."
The poor man's mouth was drooling, for a plump chicken
is a luxury in the Middle East, and he could never conscientiously serve so sumptuous a dinner to himself alone.
"I shall be equally grateful if you will show me the Grotto,"
I said.
We entered the Church of the Nativity. Its grandeur lay in
its extreme simplicity. Long, colored columns and a mosaic
flooring led the pilgrim to the Greek, Armenian, and Latin
altars. We descended a series of steps, and then entered a
low-ceilinged grotto, adorned with holy objects, tapestries, and
paintings. It was lighted by numerous lamps, and its floor was
of white marble. It was the Grotto of the Nativity, birthplace
of the Christ Child. On the actual site of the Manger was a
slab of resplendent white marble inlaid with a star in colored
stone. Opposite the Manger was an altar dedicated to the
three Wise Men who "when they were come into the house,
they saw the young Child with Mary His mother, and fell