French and Oriental Love in a Harem

"André," she asked me the other day with a smile, "is your 'Botany' dark

or fair?"

"Fair, my dear aunt," I answered, laughing as she did.

In the midst of all this the Pasha, still emulating one of the Olympian

gods, proceeds on his course with that tranquillity of spirit which

never forsakes him. Two days ago, who should come down upon us but

Rabassu, his lieutenant, the Rabassu whom my uncle has always called his

"murderer." He has brought home "La Belle Virginie" from Zanzibar with a

cargo of cinnamon; for, as you are aware, we (or rather I) still trade

in spices. Being now the head of the firm, I have to sell off the last

consignments. Rabassu heard of the resurrection of Barbassou-Pasha

directly he arrived at Toulon. He hurried off to us quite crestfallen,

and when he met the captain literally trembled at the thought of the

hurricane he would now have to face. But everything passed off very

satisfactorily. My uncle interrupted his first mutterings of apology

with a gentle growl, and contented himself with chaffing him for his

infantine credulity.

However, this incident has revived the vexed question of the camels.

"Where are they?" asks the captain. Having promised to send them to the

Zoological Gardens at Marseilles, he feels his honour is at stake; they

must be found. I support him in this view; my inherited property is of

course incomplete without them. Urgent letters on the subject have just

been despatched to his friend Picklock, and to the officer in command at

Aden. If necessary, a claim will be lodged against England; she is

undoubtedly responsible for them.

In my next letter I will tell you all the news relating to El-Nouzha

from the time when I last interrupted this interesting part of my

narrative. My houris are making progress, and their education is

improving. We are going on swimmingly.