French and Oriental Love in a Harem

"You would like to follow me, I daresay," said my aunt with a laugh, as

soon as he had left us.

"Why, of course," I replied, in a careless enough tone. "Still, if his

daughters take after him, you will admit that it may be better to

content myself with my illusions."

"You dear innocent boy! Why, with a Turk, you never know what to

expect!"

Mohammed came back to tell my aunt that her visit had been announced,

and then, preceding her with a dignified bow he opened for her the gates

communicating with the harem. I remained behind. What would happen?

Although the remarkable self possession of my eunuch had set me more at

my ease, it was a critical moment. It was evident that there would be

great excitement among my houris. They would feel at home gossiping with

my aunt, as she spoke Turkish, and they would very likely let out

everything. If one of them mentioned my name only, my aunt would guess

it all.

I waited in a state of suspense such as you can imagine. Finally, after

half-an-hour of cruel anxieties, the sound of the closed door in the

neighbouring room informed me that I was about to know my fate. My aunt

came in, and I did not dare look her in the face. Fortunately I gathered

from her first words that I had nothing more to fear; she complimented

Mohammed upon his good fortune as the father of such charming daughters,

promising often to return to spend a few hours with them, and then at

last we said "Good-bye" to His Excellency.

On our return, my aunt persisted in her eulogiums upon the young Turkish

women, chaffing me about my long solitary period of waiting for her,

separated only by a few walls from those pretty birds shut up in their

golden cage. During the whole of luncheon she regaled my uncle with her

description of these wonderful beauties. He kept looking at me from the

corner of his eye with a furious expression.

As soon as I could escape, I ran off to El-Nouzha to question Mohammed

about what had happened in the harem. He related the whole scene to me

in detail. Nazli, Hadidjé, and Zouhra were alone when he went to

prepare them for my aunt's visit. As Koudjé-Gul was reading in her room,

she had not been informed of it. At the news of such a great event my

houris screamed with joy. Trained as he had been by my uncle never to

forget his part as the father, he had taken care to remind them that, in

accordance with French usage, they must not allow it to be in the least

suspected that they knew me. They promised to do as he wished them,

swearing faithfully to keep all his commands. My aunt was then

introduced. When they saw her, my houris rose up rather frightened, but

she soon set them at ease with a kind word, and then conversation began.

Needless to say, the countess's toilet formed the chief topic of

discourse.