French and Oriental Love in a Harem

Seeing me so calm, she was gradually reassured. Still she was too much

possessed by her Turkish notions to believe all at once in such a

departure from correct oriental usages.

"Well then," she said as she dried her tears, "he will only kill

Mohammed?"

"Not even Mohammed!" I exclaimed, with a smile. "Mohammed is a poor

coward, and I will give him a bit of my mind to-morrow, so that he

shan't worry you with any more nonsense of this kind."

"You don't mean it?" she replied. "Then he will only get a beating?"

I was about to protest, when I perceived by her first words that she

suspected I wanted to play upon her credulity. There was thus a danger

of reviving her worst fears, for she would not believe any more of my

assurances. I contented myself therefore with promising to intercede

with Barbassou-Pasha. Once convinced that Mohammed's punishment would

extend no further than his hind-quarters, she troubled herself no more

about it, but with the characteristic volatility of these little wild

creatures, began to chatter and examine all the things in my room,

touching and feeling everything with an insatiable curiosity.

"Come now, you must go home," I said to her, not wishing this little

excursion of hers to be discovered.

"Oh, no! Oh, no!" she cried, with childlike delight. "It's your home--do

let me look at it!"

"Oh, but you must go and comfort Zouhra, Nazli, and Hadidjé!"

"They are asleep," she said. "I want to stay a little time here alone

with you! Besides," she added, with a little frightened look still

lingering on her face, "suppose Barbassou-Pasha has been deceiving you,

suppose he is coming to kill you to-night?"

"But once more I tell you, dear, you are mad!"

"Well then, why send me back so soon?"

"Because it is not proper for you to leave the harem," I answered. "Come

along, off you go!"

"Oh, just a little longer!--I beg you, dear!" she said, with a kiss.

How could I resist her, my dear Louis? Tell me?

I sat down, watching her moving about and rummaging everywhere. I must

tell you that under her feridjié (which she had let down on my entrance

into the room), she was dressed in a sort of loose gown of pale blue

cashmere, embroidered with lively designs in silk and gold. Her

snow-white arms emerged from wide, hanging sleeves. This costume

produced a charming picturesque effect in the midst of my room, which,

although comfortable, was very prosaic in its style--although to her it

seemed wonderful. She touched everything, for she could not be satisfied

with seeing only, and her questions never ceased.... At last, after

half-an-hour, considering her curiosity to be satisfied, as she was

beginning to ransack the books lying on my table, I said once more, "Come, Kondjé-Gul, you must go."