French and Oriental Love in a Harem

We were in my aunt's box at the Opera. The pasha, seated by her side,

was listening to a singer who was rather more buxom than elegant; and he

appeared to be calculating what her nett weight would be, after making

deduction for her queen's crown and robes of state. After a minute or

so, he seemed to have solved this equation and lost all further interest

in the problem, for he began to examine the audience. All of a sudden he

shouted out, quite forgetting himself, in his Provençal brogue: "Té! What's that I see?"

"Hush!" said my aunt, nudging him with her elbow, without turning round.

"But, bagasse! it's Mohammed!" he added, in a lower tone.

It was indeed Mohammed, who attracted some attention as he walked with

my houris into their famous box.

"Well, you're right," replied my aunt. "I recognise his charming

daughters."

You may be sure my uncle put up his glasses. When all my people were

settled down in their box, he surveyed them carefully, interrupting his

examination occasionally in order to take a furtive scowl at me. But my

aunt's presence kept him quiet. His composure was perfect for that

matter, except that he seemed extremely puzzled. There were only three

of them--that evidently was not the right number for him. As for me,

prudence dictated that I should get out of the way as quickly as

possible, leaving him to make what observations he pleased.

As I was slipping away quietly to the back of the box, I heard my aunt

saying: "Are you going to speak to him?"

"No; we have had a quarrel!" he growled, looking again for me at his

side.

But slam went the door, and I was out in the passage, whence I escaped

to the back of the scenes and to the green-room. There he joined me

during the entr'acte. But, as you are aware, "Turks do not discuss

harem matters." All I could see clearly was that he was in a fury with

me.

To turn, however, to other things, my perseverance on behalf of

Kondjé-Gul is at last rewarded with complete success.

After I had spent a whole week in looking about, I found, in the Beaujou

district, an institution for young ladies presided over by a Madame

Montier, a kind woman of polished manners. She had suffered a reverse of

fortune, which seems to have prepared her for the express purpose of

civilizing my Kondjé-Gul. There are never more than three or four

boarders in the house: at the present moment two American girls,

daughters of a commodore who is on a mission to the King of Siam, are

finishing their education there. Nothing could suit my purpose better.