CHAPTER XVWith the return of reason a new spirit came to Barakah. At the moment of her seizure she had been exasperated with her Eastern life. She awoke to rapture in it, to impatience of the European nurse and doctor. The smell of them, as they leaned over her, was an offence; their voices jarred so that often she would hide her head beneath the bed-clothes to shut out the sound.On the other hand, she listened eagerly to noises out of doors—the creak of the shadûf which tipped up water on the garden, the camel-bells, the chant of passing funerals; she watched the sunlight stud with gems the inky lacework of her lattice, and eagerly inhaled the breeze which entered; and Yûsuf’s daily visits were her joy. In the forest of distorted memories through which her soul had wandered friendless like a ragged child, the Europeans she encountered had reviled her; the love of Yûsuf and his people had been all her hope.In the hunger which distressed her convalescence, the growing disaffection for a diet all of milk, her fancy pictured feasts of Eastern dishes, Englishcookery appearing loathsome in the memory. Strangest of all, she could now think in Arabic, of which, before her illness, she had scarce a sentence.As soon as she had licence to see visitors, the Pasha’s harîm came in force to greet her. The lady Fitnah fell upon her in a transport of affection, and she responded with entire abandonment, thankful to have at last the love of Yûsuf’s mother. The elderly princess, Amînah Khânum, and other ladies of importance, paid her visits and, as her health improved, carried her off to their own houses—not for an hour, but for whole days together. There, in the perfumed shade, she was enthroned with cushions, fanned and sprinkled, nourished delicately, and sung to sleep when she showed signs of weariness. The sense of frailty and of worth was exquisite. She was content to be the guarded pet, and let them plan; regarding them as beings of a higher race, with whom it would be vanity to try to cope. Their freedom from the sentimental mists of Europe helped this feeling, and so did their bold vision of existence, blinking nothing. The potential cruelty which lurked beneath their gentleness subdued her; the way they talked of death habitually made her feel a timid child.Thus, with the body pampered and the mind enslaved, she studied and observed their life, completely fascinated. The world of women was,she found, a great republic, with liberties extending to the meanest slave, and something of the strength which comes of solidarity. Unless in jealous fury, no woman would inform against another, bond or free; nor fail to help her in the hour of need. They had their shibboleths, their customs, rites, and ceremonies, even their courts of justice, independent of the world of men. Each lady owning slaves controlled them absolutely. Her husband never saw their faces, hardly knew them. The law against his making love among them, except by her command, was very drastic. The child of such a union would have been her slave. If he required a concubine, he had to buy, not steal one. So sacred with the Muslims was the married woman’s right to property—a right which was not recognized at all in England Occasionally Barakah heard talk of cruelties which chilled her blood; but her friends excused them on the ground of anger, which was for them a visitation from on high. The very victims, they assured her, never felt as she did.One feature of the harîm life which shocked her was the equalling of black with white. The Muslim faith disowning all race prejudice, a strain of negro blood appeared in the best families; and any negro having fortune was esteemed as marriageable as the fairest Turk. Then the black slaves, though less regarded because they cost less than the white Circassians, possessed great influence,particularly in the article of superstition, which they quite controlled. Weeds from the heathen Soudan, brought to Cairo in the convoy of the slave-dealer, luxuriated in that tank of guarded ignorance; and many an enlightened Muslim would have died of horror had he known the works of darkness countenanced by his harîm—the sacrifices to malignant beings; the veneration paid to hoary negresses for demoniacal possession; the use to which the name of God was sometimes put. To Barakah, however, in those early days, such fancies—what she heard of them—seemed merely comic. She ranked them with the women’s playfulness, their funny stories. She was enamoured of their life as she conceived it, enslaved and thrilled by its unblushing candour. This was the season of her real conversion, which reached its climax on a certain morning, when she was carried in a guarded litter to the citadel to witness the departure of the yearly pilgrimage. From a place reserved for ladies on the ramparts she beheld the troops, the guilds of dervishes, defile before the Khedive’s tent, and then the great procession wind away. Fanfares sounded, cannons roared, and from the multitude which hid the square and covered every roof and balcony in sight, beading with heads the very summits of the citadel, a sigh went up.Barakah was in an ecstasy. When her eyes wearied of the flash and movement, she surveyedthe vast blue sky, the coloured, sunlit walls, the minarets where doves were circling. She pictured the long journey of the pilgrims, on the shining sea, across the burning sands, to the eternal sanctuary. What scene in Christian Europe could be matched with this? Religion, but a mummy there, here lived and moved.Returning home, she felt a craving to unbosom, and bethought her of a girl in England, once her friend. She called for ink and pens, and wrote forthwith to Julia Long, recounting her changed fortunes, and extolling Egypt. She described the scene she had that morning witnessed, and concluded:“Julia darling, you will think it strange, but I am sure that this religion is the true one. Here every woman has a chance to marry, and the accidents of wealth and birth are not the barriers they are at home. Polygamy is not at all what people think. The Moslems are as strict as Puritans about morality; and the women here are happier than those at home. Europe has gone all wrong, and so has Christianity. Here we believe in Jesus just as you do: we know that His religion is the true one; but St. Paul and others after him corrupted it. Do think of this, and learn about Mahometanism. I would give anything that you might find the happiness that I have found. My husband will be taking me to Paris at the end of June. Do try and join us there. We will pay all expenses.“With true affection from your old friend“Mary{Madame Yousouf Bey Mohamed,c/o Mohamed Pasha Sâlih,Cairo, Egypt.”This letter was read out to Yûsuf in the evening. He applauded it, and vowed she had a natural gift of eloquence. He asked for a minute description of her friend, seeming much pleased to think that they would meet in Paris; and when Barakah had satisfied him to the best of her remembrance, chuckled:“And you love her? Then you would not object to have her for your durrah!”She warned him archly that she could be jealous.Barakah called often on the lady Fitnah, who just now was in high feather, having been commissioned by Murjânah Khânum to find out a husband for the latter’s slave, Gulbeyzah. At once she sent out go-betweens in all directions, threads of a gigantic web, in which she sat and waited. Flies soon came—ladies with eligible sons or husbands needing matrimony—whose claims the shrewd Egyptian sifted, smelling out the slightest fraud. Barakah was interested in these doings, naturally, seeing they concerned the welfare of her closest friend.Murjânah Khânum wished to emancipate a charming slave and place her in a good position, at the same time seeking some remuneration for her previous outlay. She appointed Fitnah Khânum her intendant. Those were the naked facts. But the word “price” was never mentioned in discussion of the subject; it was always “dowry,” of which a third part would be paid, of course, to thebride’s people. Gulbeyzah was referred to as a cherished daughter of the house; her wishes were consulted with regard to each proposal; and no one was annoyed when she seemed hard to please.“Thou art like Leylah Khânum,” whispered Barakah. “Thou wilt choose and choose away till none are left.”“By no means,” was the laughing answer. “I am a young maid. Moreover, it is not the man I stickle for; it is society.”Whenever ladies whom she did not choose came to inspect her, Gulbeyzah donned a rustic air and talked to shock them. Barakah had no idea of what she meant when saying she required society, until one day she told her:“Praise to Allah! Only think, beloved! Three Circassians, young like me, from the same district! Their lord—a Pasha of the richest—wants another like them. They are gratified. I have been recommended. They come to-day for my inspection. Thou shalt see them presently, as also a Gulbeyzah no one ever saw before. O day of milk! O wave-crest of all days!”Barakah had been summoned by the ladies and a carriage sent for her. Gulbeyzah had waylaid her on the way to the reception-room.“But what of the man—the husband?” she inquired.“Splendid! Rich and generous; impartial as the prophet in division of his favours. If God wills,I shall bear him children. What more could girl require? Think—four of us, like sisters! Four pearls strung together, and inseparable! Thou wilt visit us, and we shall all four love thee dearly. O joy! Now go! I will rejoin thee presently.”The clack of tongues was heard from the reception-room. Before the door stood rows of coloured slippers. All the dependants of the household, all the go-betweens, had rallied to support the ladies on a great occasion. Hardly had Barakah concluded greetings ere the three Circassians were announced. They were all charming, and all bore, she fancied, some resemblance to Gulbeyzah in their childlike faces and huge eyes. They had pretty, deferential manners, seeming to speak by pre-arrangement and to think in concert, obedient to some rule which bound them, just like nuns. They were still amid the storm of formal compliments when Gulbeyzah entered clad in soft apparel, and paused as if in awe at finding strangers. Then, blushingly, she went and kissed their hands, going on to kiss the hands of all the ladies present. In so doing she gave Barakah a little bite, and when her tour was ended sank down humbly at her feet.“They will unmask thee. Thou canst never keep this up for life,” the Englishwoman whispered.“By Allah! only look!” was the reply. “They too are acting. See now, the plump one: there is inward mirth.”The visitors, impressed by her demeanour, put certain questions, which she answered to the point. It appeared that she could dance and sing; spoke Turkish, Arabic, and some Armenian. At mention of French also, they raised hands and eyes, declaring her a perfect prodigy. They then addressed her in their native dialect, when sudden smiles broke up their shy decorum. Turning to the hostesses, they asked forgiveness for employing private speech. They had but asked the dear one of her native village, and smiled to hear that it adjoined their own. They begged for leave to call again, which meant the bargain was acceptable; and then withdrew with every blessing on the house.No sooner had they vanished than Gulbeyzah threw off her demureness and performed with energy a naughty dance which terminated in a sudden swoop to clasp Murjânah Khânum’s feet. Her mistress bent and kissed her forehead tenderly; the lady Fitnah was convulsed with glee; the humbler women gave forth wedding-cries. And the cause of all this joy, the object of that motherly consideration, was a slave! In Europe, people thought of slaves as miserable. Here was a story to be told to Julia Long.“O disappointment! Thou wilt be in Paris! Thou wilt miss my wedding!” cried Gulbeyzah suddenly. “Yûsuf Bey should take some low girl with him since he needs must go. It is sinful to expose thy worth to risks of travel.”“Have I not told him?” cried the lady Fitnah. “The world will be quite black when she is gone. A girl for whom his father paid three thousand pounds. It is absurd to fling her into boats and filthy trains.”Barakah smiled at their desire to keep her, thinking with rapture of the coming talks with Julia. She had not then had Julia’s answer to her letter. It arrived within a fortnight of the time of starting.“ ... How can you write such wickedness?... I heard that you had married a Turk, but thought of course he was converted.... I do not envy you your riches nor your rank at such a price!... No, I will not join you in Paris, and abet you in your infamy. I banish your most impious suggestions from my thoughts for ever.... I am poor and shall remain so; but I have incalculable treasure....”She crumpled up the closely written sheets, then flung them on the ground and stamped upon them. Yûsuf found her weeping uncontrollably, and asked the cause.“Then their women are fanatical like ours!” he sighed when told. “Take heart, O fountain of my life! By Allah, such a friend is not worth weeping. We will none the less enjoy ourselves in Paris.”“I have no wish to go at all,” sobbed Barakah.
With the return of reason a new spirit came to Barakah. At the moment of her seizure she had been exasperated with her Eastern life. She awoke to rapture in it, to impatience of the European nurse and doctor. The smell of them, as they leaned over her, was an offence; their voices jarred so that often she would hide her head beneath the bed-clothes to shut out the sound.
On the other hand, she listened eagerly to noises out of doors—the creak of the shadûf which tipped up water on the garden, the camel-bells, the chant of passing funerals; she watched the sunlight stud with gems the inky lacework of her lattice, and eagerly inhaled the breeze which entered; and Yûsuf’s daily visits were her joy. In the forest of distorted memories through which her soul had wandered friendless like a ragged child, the Europeans she encountered had reviled her; the love of Yûsuf and his people had been all her hope.
In the hunger which distressed her convalescence, the growing disaffection for a diet all of milk, her fancy pictured feasts of Eastern dishes, Englishcookery appearing loathsome in the memory. Strangest of all, she could now think in Arabic, of which, before her illness, she had scarce a sentence.
As soon as she had licence to see visitors, the Pasha’s harîm came in force to greet her. The lady Fitnah fell upon her in a transport of affection, and she responded with entire abandonment, thankful to have at last the love of Yûsuf’s mother. The elderly princess, Amînah Khânum, and other ladies of importance, paid her visits and, as her health improved, carried her off to their own houses—not for an hour, but for whole days together. There, in the perfumed shade, she was enthroned with cushions, fanned and sprinkled, nourished delicately, and sung to sleep when she showed signs of weariness. The sense of frailty and of worth was exquisite. She was content to be the guarded pet, and let them plan; regarding them as beings of a higher race, with whom it would be vanity to try to cope. Their freedom from the sentimental mists of Europe helped this feeling, and so did their bold vision of existence, blinking nothing. The potential cruelty which lurked beneath their gentleness subdued her; the way they talked of death habitually made her feel a timid child.
Thus, with the body pampered and the mind enslaved, she studied and observed their life, completely fascinated. The world of women was,she found, a great republic, with liberties extending to the meanest slave, and something of the strength which comes of solidarity. Unless in jealous fury, no woman would inform against another, bond or free; nor fail to help her in the hour of need. They had their shibboleths, their customs, rites, and ceremonies, even their courts of justice, independent of the world of men. Each lady owning slaves controlled them absolutely. Her husband never saw their faces, hardly knew them. The law against his making love among them, except by her command, was very drastic. The child of such a union would have been her slave. If he required a concubine, he had to buy, not steal one. So sacred with the Muslims was the married woman’s right to property—a right which was not recognized at all in England Occasionally Barakah heard talk of cruelties which chilled her blood; but her friends excused them on the ground of anger, which was for them a visitation from on high. The very victims, they assured her, never felt as she did.
One feature of the harîm life which shocked her was the equalling of black with white. The Muslim faith disowning all race prejudice, a strain of negro blood appeared in the best families; and any negro having fortune was esteemed as marriageable as the fairest Turk. Then the black slaves, though less regarded because they cost less than the white Circassians, possessed great influence,particularly in the article of superstition, which they quite controlled. Weeds from the heathen Soudan, brought to Cairo in the convoy of the slave-dealer, luxuriated in that tank of guarded ignorance; and many an enlightened Muslim would have died of horror had he known the works of darkness countenanced by his harîm—the sacrifices to malignant beings; the veneration paid to hoary negresses for demoniacal possession; the use to which the name of God was sometimes put. To Barakah, however, in those early days, such fancies—what she heard of them—seemed merely comic. She ranked them with the women’s playfulness, their funny stories. She was enamoured of their life as she conceived it, enslaved and thrilled by its unblushing candour. This was the season of her real conversion, which reached its climax on a certain morning, when she was carried in a guarded litter to the citadel to witness the departure of the yearly pilgrimage. From a place reserved for ladies on the ramparts she beheld the troops, the guilds of dervishes, defile before the Khedive’s tent, and then the great procession wind away. Fanfares sounded, cannons roared, and from the multitude which hid the square and covered every roof and balcony in sight, beading with heads the very summits of the citadel, a sigh went up.
Barakah was in an ecstasy. When her eyes wearied of the flash and movement, she surveyedthe vast blue sky, the coloured, sunlit walls, the minarets where doves were circling. She pictured the long journey of the pilgrims, on the shining sea, across the burning sands, to the eternal sanctuary. What scene in Christian Europe could be matched with this? Religion, but a mummy there, here lived and moved.
Returning home, she felt a craving to unbosom, and bethought her of a girl in England, once her friend. She called for ink and pens, and wrote forthwith to Julia Long, recounting her changed fortunes, and extolling Egypt. She described the scene she had that morning witnessed, and concluded:
“Julia darling, you will think it strange, but I am sure that this religion is the true one. Here every woman has a chance to marry, and the accidents of wealth and birth are not the barriers they are at home. Polygamy is not at all what people think. The Moslems are as strict as Puritans about morality; and the women here are happier than those at home. Europe has gone all wrong, and so has Christianity. Here we believe in Jesus just as you do: we know that His religion is the true one; but St. Paul and others after him corrupted it. Do think of this, and learn about Mahometanism. I would give anything that you might find the happiness that I have found. My husband will be taking me to Paris at the end of June. Do try and join us there. We will pay all expenses.“With true affection from your old friend“Mary{Madame Yousouf Bey Mohamed,c/o Mohamed Pasha Sâlih,Cairo, Egypt.”
“Julia darling, you will think it strange, but I am sure that this religion is the true one. Here every woman has a chance to marry, and the accidents of wealth and birth are not the barriers they are at home. Polygamy is not at all what people think. The Moslems are as strict as Puritans about morality; and the women here are happier than those at home. Europe has gone all wrong, and so has Christianity. Here we believe in Jesus just as you do: we know that His religion is the true one; but St. Paul and others after him corrupted it. Do think of this, and learn about Mahometanism. I would give anything that you might find the happiness that I have found. My husband will be taking me to Paris at the end of June. Do try and join us there. We will pay all expenses.
“With true affection from your old friend
“Mary{Madame Yousouf Bey Mohamed,c/o Mohamed Pasha Sâlih,Cairo, Egypt.”
“Mary{Madame Yousouf Bey Mohamed,c/o Mohamed Pasha Sâlih,Cairo, Egypt.”
“Mary{
Madame Yousouf Bey Mohamed,c/o Mohamed Pasha Sâlih,Cairo, Egypt.”
This letter was read out to Yûsuf in the evening. He applauded it, and vowed she had a natural gift of eloquence. He asked for a minute description of her friend, seeming much pleased to think that they would meet in Paris; and when Barakah had satisfied him to the best of her remembrance, chuckled:
“And you love her? Then you would not object to have her for your durrah!”
She warned him archly that she could be jealous.
Barakah called often on the lady Fitnah, who just now was in high feather, having been commissioned by Murjânah Khânum to find out a husband for the latter’s slave, Gulbeyzah. At once she sent out go-betweens in all directions, threads of a gigantic web, in which she sat and waited. Flies soon came—ladies with eligible sons or husbands needing matrimony—whose claims the shrewd Egyptian sifted, smelling out the slightest fraud. Barakah was interested in these doings, naturally, seeing they concerned the welfare of her closest friend.
Murjânah Khânum wished to emancipate a charming slave and place her in a good position, at the same time seeking some remuneration for her previous outlay. She appointed Fitnah Khânum her intendant. Those were the naked facts. But the word “price” was never mentioned in discussion of the subject; it was always “dowry,” of which a third part would be paid, of course, to thebride’s people. Gulbeyzah was referred to as a cherished daughter of the house; her wishes were consulted with regard to each proposal; and no one was annoyed when she seemed hard to please.
“Thou art like Leylah Khânum,” whispered Barakah. “Thou wilt choose and choose away till none are left.”
“By no means,” was the laughing answer. “I am a young maid. Moreover, it is not the man I stickle for; it is society.”
Whenever ladies whom she did not choose came to inspect her, Gulbeyzah donned a rustic air and talked to shock them. Barakah had no idea of what she meant when saying she required society, until one day she told her:
“Praise to Allah! Only think, beloved! Three Circassians, young like me, from the same district! Their lord—a Pasha of the richest—wants another like them. They are gratified. I have been recommended. They come to-day for my inspection. Thou shalt see them presently, as also a Gulbeyzah no one ever saw before. O day of milk! O wave-crest of all days!”
Barakah had been summoned by the ladies and a carriage sent for her. Gulbeyzah had waylaid her on the way to the reception-room.
“But what of the man—the husband?” she inquired.
“Splendid! Rich and generous; impartial as the prophet in division of his favours. If God wills,I shall bear him children. What more could girl require? Think—four of us, like sisters! Four pearls strung together, and inseparable! Thou wilt visit us, and we shall all four love thee dearly. O joy! Now go! I will rejoin thee presently.”
The clack of tongues was heard from the reception-room. Before the door stood rows of coloured slippers. All the dependants of the household, all the go-betweens, had rallied to support the ladies on a great occasion. Hardly had Barakah concluded greetings ere the three Circassians were announced. They were all charming, and all bore, she fancied, some resemblance to Gulbeyzah in their childlike faces and huge eyes. They had pretty, deferential manners, seeming to speak by pre-arrangement and to think in concert, obedient to some rule which bound them, just like nuns. They were still amid the storm of formal compliments when Gulbeyzah entered clad in soft apparel, and paused as if in awe at finding strangers. Then, blushingly, she went and kissed their hands, going on to kiss the hands of all the ladies present. In so doing she gave Barakah a little bite, and when her tour was ended sank down humbly at her feet.
“They will unmask thee. Thou canst never keep this up for life,” the Englishwoman whispered.
“By Allah! only look!” was the reply. “They too are acting. See now, the plump one: there is inward mirth.”
The visitors, impressed by her demeanour, put certain questions, which she answered to the point. It appeared that she could dance and sing; spoke Turkish, Arabic, and some Armenian. At mention of French also, they raised hands and eyes, declaring her a perfect prodigy. They then addressed her in their native dialect, when sudden smiles broke up their shy decorum. Turning to the hostesses, they asked forgiveness for employing private speech. They had but asked the dear one of her native village, and smiled to hear that it adjoined their own. They begged for leave to call again, which meant the bargain was acceptable; and then withdrew with every blessing on the house.
No sooner had they vanished than Gulbeyzah threw off her demureness and performed with energy a naughty dance which terminated in a sudden swoop to clasp Murjânah Khânum’s feet. Her mistress bent and kissed her forehead tenderly; the lady Fitnah was convulsed with glee; the humbler women gave forth wedding-cries. And the cause of all this joy, the object of that motherly consideration, was a slave! In Europe, people thought of slaves as miserable. Here was a story to be told to Julia Long.
“O disappointment! Thou wilt be in Paris! Thou wilt miss my wedding!” cried Gulbeyzah suddenly. “Yûsuf Bey should take some low girl with him since he needs must go. It is sinful to expose thy worth to risks of travel.”
“Have I not told him?” cried the lady Fitnah. “The world will be quite black when she is gone. A girl for whom his father paid three thousand pounds. It is absurd to fling her into boats and filthy trains.”
Barakah smiled at their desire to keep her, thinking with rapture of the coming talks with Julia. She had not then had Julia’s answer to her letter. It arrived within a fortnight of the time of starting.
“ ... How can you write such wickedness?... I heard that you had married a Turk, but thought of course he was converted.... I do not envy you your riches nor your rank at such a price!... No, I will not join you in Paris, and abet you in your infamy. I banish your most impious suggestions from my thoughts for ever.... I am poor and shall remain so; but I have incalculable treasure....”
“ ... How can you write such wickedness?... I heard that you had married a Turk, but thought of course he was converted.... I do not envy you your riches nor your rank at such a price!... No, I will not join you in Paris, and abet you in your infamy. I banish your most impious suggestions from my thoughts for ever.... I am poor and shall remain so; but I have incalculable treasure....”
She crumpled up the closely written sheets, then flung them on the ground and stamped upon them. Yûsuf found her weeping uncontrollably, and asked the cause.
“Then their women are fanatical like ours!” he sighed when told. “Take heart, O fountain of my life! By Allah, such a friend is not worth weeping. We will none the less enjoy ourselves in Paris.”
“I have no wish to go at all,” sobbed Barakah.
CHAPTER XVIGhandûr attended Yûsuf in the train to Alexandria, and accompanied the pair on board the steamer. Kissing hands at parting he wept uncontrollably, and in that condition was propelled by sailors to the boat awaiting him. Barakah would have liked to stand and watch the harbour, which offered charming pictures in the evening glow; but Yûsuf drew her down into a stuffy cabin, where he left her, bidding her secure the door against intrusion. He told her she must take her meals down there, since there was no separate dining-room assigned to women. Directly afterwards his voice resounded in the corridor, with others talking Arabic, by which she knew that he had friends on board.A stewardess knocked at her door, bringing her supper, which consisted of a single dish of meat and vegetables. By then the pulse of engines could be felt; there was a noise of running overhead, shouts, and the clank of chains; the ship was moving. Having made an end of eating, she retired to bed and, being tired, went to sleep immediately. The slamming of the door by Yûsufpartly roused her. She could hear him swearing, asking Allah to be put on shore, and knew that he was sea-sick; but it seemed no matter. Next morning, as the sea was rather rough, she kept her bunk until eleven o’clock, when she got up and put on English clothes she had brought with her. Yûsuf, more dead than living, asked what for.“I go to smell the air.”He sobbed: “With face exposed! Behold me dead, while dogs defile my grave.”Supposing his mind wandered—for she wore the English veil which he himself had said would be sufficient after leaving Egypt—she found her way on to the deck and spent an hour there, pacing up and down, enjoying the strong wind. When she returned to Yûsuf he was inarticulate. She stayed with him until the evening, when she went on deck again for a few minutes before turning in. It was five days before the gale abated.At length one morning they awoke to ease of movement, and Yûsuf rose. His smile was tentative at first, but soon grew confident. “I could not tell thee for my sickness,” he informed her, “but there are common people of our faith on board. I would not have their talk asperse my wife. It mattered less while I myself made no appearance. No doubt they took thee for some Frankish woman. But now keep close in here. Wait till we get to Fransa.”Without waiting for her answer, he went out. But in a minute he was back again, exclaiming:“The wife of Hâfiz Bey, my friend, lies near to death! Come thou and see what can be done for her, and God reward thee! Put on thy habbarah. My friend will guide thee.”It was the first time he had spoken of his friends to her. She followed him and was presented to a fat, good-tempered-looking youth, exceeding swarthy, clad in a European suit too tight for him, who apologized in baby French for thus “deranging” her. He opened the door of an adjacent cabin, bowed her in, and then retreated arm in arm with Yûsuf.It was a two-berth cabin. In the lower bunk a buxom girl of eighteen years or less—a perfect blonde—lay with her eyes closed, making moan with every breath. The childish face was flushed, discoloured round the eyes with weeping; the hands clenched. Whatever her complaint, it was not sea-sickness.“How is thy health?” the visitor asked softly.“O Lord! I die! I perish! O fresh air! O sun!” gasped out the sufferer. “O Allah! Was I born a fish to be thus thrown upon the sea—a snake, to be imprisoned in this box?”“Be brave! The voyage is now almost ended. In two days or three, at most, we are released. Tell me thy pains! What ails thee?”The prostrate beauty opened great blue eyes of injured innocence and asked: “Who art thou?”“I am the wife of Yûsuf Bey, thy husband’s friend.”“The Englishwoman!” She sat up and clung to Barakah. “How canst thou bear it, thou, an honoured wife! Will not thy parents take account for the indignity? Oh, end my life, I pray thee; it is unendurable!”Slowly, by force of patience, Barakah elicited that the girl, by name Bedr-ul-Budûr, a pet slave of the mother of young Hâfiz Bey, had been presented to him for his comfort on this journey, since his bride, of high ideas, refused to travel. She had been a little frightened in the train, a new experience, but much elated till she came on board this ship and felt the sea. Then she realized that she had been beguiled, defrauded, enticed to an undignified and hideous death. Hiccuping sobs broke in upon her narrative, which ended in a storm of tears.Barakah tried to soothe her mind with cheerful talk, depicting all the charms of life in Paris.“Thy voice is sweetness!” she entreated. “Stay with me! Turn out my consort: let him house with thine. What does one want with men when one is dying?”Going out on that injunction, Barakah found Hâfiz and her husband waiting close at hand. The former, greatly scared by his companion’s illness, was prepared for any sacrifice to save her life; and Yûsuf raising no objection, Barakah’s effectswere moved into the other cabin, while Hâfiz took his baggage to the “house of Yûsuf,” as he called it, jesting.Bedr-ul-Budûr gave praise to Allah. The presence of a lady of acknowledged standing relieved her of the sense of singular and base ill-treatment, which was all her illness.At length the ship stood still and filled with voices. It was night. The men called from the corridor to warn them that the landing would take place at the third hour next morning. Thus bidden, they took out their Frankish garments and compared them.Barakah’s were old, of sober hue. Bedr-ul-Budûr’s brand-new and something garish. They slept but little, talking through the night.When Barakah had finished dressing in the early morning, her companion, waking, screamed with horror at the English veil.“Merciful Allah! It is dreadful. It hides nothing. It is what the wantons wear. Wait but a minute! I have more than one. I will provide thee. My kind princess advised me what was right to wear.”Tumbling out of her berth, Bedr-ul-Budûr found in her box a fold of thick white gauze, which she proceeded to throw round the face of Barakah, attaching it to the bonnet with two little brooches.“By Allah, that is better!” she remarked, and then gave all her mind to her own dressing.When this was finished, her appearance smote the eye. Her bonnet was sky-blue, the thick white veil depending from it like a curtain, her dress a lively pink, her stockings white, her boots and gloves bright yellow, shining in their newness; she had a pale blue parasol adorned with frills of lace.“The Franks wear many colours,” she remarked to Barakah, adding with childish wonder, “Why are yours so dull?... By Allah, I feel naked in the middle.”So did Barakah. To one accustomed to go shrouded, a dress which emphasized the hips and bust seemed vile at first.Yûsuf and Hâfiz fetched them up on deck, where they found two more ladies garishly arrayed, and two more men in French-made suits and fezes.After the introduction all stood awkwardly, gaping like children who have lost remembrance of their part. Barakah, to ease the strain, remarked to Hâfiz Bey upon the beauty of the morning, the bustle of the harbour of Marseilles; but his response was marred by evident embarrassment; his eyes kept veering round to look at Yûsuf, whom he soon rejoined. The ladies formed a group apart, in titters at each other’s odd appearance. Presently a man, clad as a Frank, approached with Arab greetings. He kissed the hand of Hâfiz Bey, who welcomed him. It seemed he had been warned by letter to prepare the way for them.“All is ready, lords of bounty!” he exclaimed. “Deign but to follow me, the ladies with you.”The drive along the quays through noisy streets to the hotel, the breakfast which their guide assured them had been cooked and chosen in accordance with religious law, were trammelled by constraint, and went off sadly. Only in the train, where they were separated, each sex enjoying a reserved compartment, did conversation flow. Among the women it was soon uproarious. They talked and laughed half through the night, appealing constantly to Barakah, a European born, for information. The appearance of the men at every station, to ascertain that they were well, produced a hush; but no sooner were the despots gone again than the mad talk and laughter raged anew.At length they tired and tried to rest. They cursed the narrowness of the divans, the work of devils. When morning came, Bedr-ul-Budûr was at the point of death once more, asking her Maker what she had done to earn such disrespectful treatment; while Barakah, beside the window, looking out at Christian villages, was haunted by remembrance and grew sad.The sun had long been up when they reached Paris. Yûsuf and Hâfiz, Bedr-ul-Budûr and Barakah, packed in one cab, were driven with a rattle through tumultuous streets to the hotel where rooms had been engaged for them. The hostess, a stout woman elegantly dressed in black, and theentire staff stood out to welcome them. The woman bowed incessantly, addressing Yûsuf and his friend as “Monseigneur.” Finding that Barakah knew French she drew to her and poured a smooth flow of amenities into her ear.“Madame has only to command—all that she desires. The nobility of the Orient are our most valued clients. Should madame require conversation, I am always at her service. The princes come to Paris for diversion, that is understood. Young men so rich! They must amuse themselves! But then their ladies must not find the life too sad.”Thus prattling, she conducted them upstairs and flung open a door, exclaiming: “Voila!” Crossing the landing to another door, she flung that open also. “Voila!” she cried again. Bedr-ul-Budûr, so tired that she could hardly drag her feet up, chose the left-hand room, which happened to be nearest. Yûsuf and Barakah proceeded to the other. Both parties ordered coffee and some light refreshment, and after breakfasting went straight to bed. They rested until evening, when the men went out to find their friends, whose lodging was close by. They returned with sundry purchases, hats, gloves, and scarves, which they declared they needed for complete disguise.On the next morning the whole party, in two carriages, went out to smell the air and view the city. It was a cloudless day and the streets sparkled, the trees along the boulevards were likefat green posies. They were feeling happy when, in an important thoroughfare, they discovered people pointing at them, drivers shouting. Yûsuf and his seat companion Hâfiz grew uncomfortable. Cries of amazement reached them from the other carriage. Their cabman turned round with a grin and told them:“‘Place aux dames,’ messieurs!—That is what they cry. These ladies are not slaves with us, que diable!”The two men had been lounging in the roomy seat which faced the horse. They at once resigned it, addressing bows and smiles of deference to the angry multitude; and called out to their friends to do the like. But the incident destroyed their pleasure in the drive; nor were the ladies happy in the seat of honour, a gazing-stock for infidels who might possess the evil eye.“Saw one ever such fanaticism?” groaned Yûsuf. “And they call this country free—a place where every one does what he likes!”That afternoon was spent in the hotel in a strange manner; Barakah, at the demand of Yûsuf, instructing the four men in foreign customs. They posed and pirouetted in her salon, rehearsing bows, the flourish of a hat, the proper compliments; while the three girls looked on with saucer eyes. After dinner they again appeared before her, this time without their fezes, wearing hats which gave to them a very villainous and sleek appearance.Required to criticize their dress and bearing from a Frankish standpoint, she suggested some improvements which were hailed with gratitude. Yûsuf returned home after midnight, tired but garrulous. It seemed that they had lighted on a charming Frenchman, who undertook to show them all the sights. Next day the men rose late and then went out together, leaving the women to their own devices; returned to dinner, then went off again, remaining out this time till nearly morning.The programme did not vary on succeeding days. The girls, deserted, clung to Barakah. They wailed and prayed to God, and dreamed of Cairo. At length one of them—it was Bedr-ul-Budûr—took courage to reproach her lord; when all four men were stricken with amazement. They had thought the ladies would be gay indoors without them, as they were at home. To cheer them up, a trip to Versailles was arranged. It passed off gaily, with less shyness than usually appeared when they all mixed together. As they strolled about the park, a youth named Izz-ud-dîn made up to Barakah, and with the greatest diffidence implored her to confide to him the secret how to win the love of Frankish ladies. When she smilingly assured him there was none, he cried:“O Lord of Heaven! Then thou wilt not tell it. They are so easy to their own men, as we know from books; to us so difficult. It cannot be fanaticism, since we seem as Franks.”“But what need hast thou of women, with a pearl of beauty here beside thee?” questioned Barakah.“One who has beheld thy loveliness must evermore desire the like of it! Oh, that thou hadst a sister for me!” he made answer glibly.He moved away, but presently another came and made the same preposterous request, retreating with the same forced compliment; and on the journey home, when Yûsuf closed his eyes and seemed to sleep, Hâfiz Bey, whom she had thought more sensible, approached her in his turn. When she denied all knowledge of the matter he answered in low tones:“There is a secret, that is known, by Allah. Thou hast it, and hast given hints to Yûsuf; else why should he be more successful than the rest of us?”“Because he is better looking,” it was on the tip of her tongue to say, as she surveyed the fat, good-tempered face of Hâfiz with its Chinese eyes. It was all that she could do to keep from screams of laughter.“It is my dream,” he whispered. “By Allah it disturbs my nights with cruel pain—to take a lady just like thee in all respects—a Frank and noble, of extreme refinement—back with me to Masr.”She derided him. He still continued pleading, supporting his petition with the grossest flattery,till they reached home, when Yûsuf suddenly sprang up and glowered at Hâfiz. He had been feigning sleep. It was a thunderbolt. Bedr-ul-Budûr screamed warning to her lord, who gave but a single look and fled indoors, the jealous one pursuing like a madman. In the hall the harmless youth was overtaken and turned round to plead. With a howl of “Dog!” Yûsuf sprang at his throat and bore him to the ground. Like dogs in very truth they fought till parted by the hotel servants with the help of broomsticks; while Barakah strove in vain to make her explanation heard; Bedr-ul-Budûr appealed to Allah and the prophet; and the landlady from the third step of the stairs, with hands and eyes thrown up, exclaimed repeatedly: “O ciel! C’est monseigneur!”
Ghandûr attended Yûsuf in the train to Alexandria, and accompanied the pair on board the steamer. Kissing hands at parting he wept uncontrollably, and in that condition was propelled by sailors to the boat awaiting him. Barakah would have liked to stand and watch the harbour, which offered charming pictures in the evening glow; but Yûsuf drew her down into a stuffy cabin, where he left her, bidding her secure the door against intrusion. He told her she must take her meals down there, since there was no separate dining-room assigned to women. Directly afterwards his voice resounded in the corridor, with others talking Arabic, by which she knew that he had friends on board.
A stewardess knocked at her door, bringing her supper, which consisted of a single dish of meat and vegetables. By then the pulse of engines could be felt; there was a noise of running overhead, shouts, and the clank of chains; the ship was moving. Having made an end of eating, she retired to bed and, being tired, went to sleep immediately. The slamming of the door by Yûsufpartly roused her. She could hear him swearing, asking Allah to be put on shore, and knew that he was sea-sick; but it seemed no matter. Next morning, as the sea was rather rough, she kept her bunk until eleven o’clock, when she got up and put on English clothes she had brought with her. Yûsuf, more dead than living, asked what for.
“I go to smell the air.”
He sobbed: “With face exposed! Behold me dead, while dogs defile my grave.”
Supposing his mind wandered—for she wore the English veil which he himself had said would be sufficient after leaving Egypt—she found her way on to the deck and spent an hour there, pacing up and down, enjoying the strong wind. When she returned to Yûsuf he was inarticulate. She stayed with him until the evening, when she went on deck again for a few minutes before turning in. It was five days before the gale abated.
At length one morning they awoke to ease of movement, and Yûsuf rose. His smile was tentative at first, but soon grew confident. “I could not tell thee for my sickness,” he informed her, “but there are common people of our faith on board. I would not have their talk asperse my wife. It mattered less while I myself made no appearance. No doubt they took thee for some Frankish woman. But now keep close in here. Wait till we get to Fransa.”
Without waiting for her answer, he went out. But in a minute he was back again, exclaiming:
“The wife of Hâfiz Bey, my friend, lies near to death! Come thou and see what can be done for her, and God reward thee! Put on thy habbarah. My friend will guide thee.”
It was the first time he had spoken of his friends to her. She followed him and was presented to a fat, good-tempered-looking youth, exceeding swarthy, clad in a European suit too tight for him, who apologized in baby French for thus “deranging” her. He opened the door of an adjacent cabin, bowed her in, and then retreated arm in arm with Yûsuf.
It was a two-berth cabin. In the lower bunk a buxom girl of eighteen years or less—a perfect blonde—lay with her eyes closed, making moan with every breath. The childish face was flushed, discoloured round the eyes with weeping; the hands clenched. Whatever her complaint, it was not sea-sickness.
“How is thy health?” the visitor asked softly.
“O Lord! I die! I perish! O fresh air! O sun!” gasped out the sufferer. “O Allah! Was I born a fish to be thus thrown upon the sea—a snake, to be imprisoned in this box?”
“Be brave! The voyage is now almost ended. In two days or three, at most, we are released. Tell me thy pains! What ails thee?”
The prostrate beauty opened great blue eyes of injured innocence and asked: “Who art thou?”
“I am the wife of Yûsuf Bey, thy husband’s friend.”
“The Englishwoman!” She sat up and clung to Barakah. “How canst thou bear it, thou, an honoured wife! Will not thy parents take account for the indignity? Oh, end my life, I pray thee; it is unendurable!”
Slowly, by force of patience, Barakah elicited that the girl, by name Bedr-ul-Budûr, a pet slave of the mother of young Hâfiz Bey, had been presented to him for his comfort on this journey, since his bride, of high ideas, refused to travel. She had been a little frightened in the train, a new experience, but much elated till she came on board this ship and felt the sea. Then she realized that she had been beguiled, defrauded, enticed to an undignified and hideous death. Hiccuping sobs broke in upon her narrative, which ended in a storm of tears.
Barakah tried to soothe her mind with cheerful talk, depicting all the charms of life in Paris.
“Thy voice is sweetness!” she entreated. “Stay with me! Turn out my consort: let him house with thine. What does one want with men when one is dying?”
Going out on that injunction, Barakah found Hâfiz and her husband waiting close at hand. The former, greatly scared by his companion’s illness, was prepared for any sacrifice to save her life; and Yûsuf raising no objection, Barakah’s effectswere moved into the other cabin, while Hâfiz took his baggage to the “house of Yûsuf,” as he called it, jesting.
Bedr-ul-Budûr gave praise to Allah. The presence of a lady of acknowledged standing relieved her of the sense of singular and base ill-treatment, which was all her illness.
At length the ship stood still and filled with voices. It was night. The men called from the corridor to warn them that the landing would take place at the third hour next morning. Thus bidden, they took out their Frankish garments and compared them.
Barakah’s were old, of sober hue. Bedr-ul-Budûr’s brand-new and something garish. They slept but little, talking through the night.
When Barakah had finished dressing in the early morning, her companion, waking, screamed with horror at the English veil.
“Merciful Allah! It is dreadful. It hides nothing. It is what the wantons wear. Wait but a minute! I have more than one. I will provide thee. My kind princess advised me what was right to wear.”
Tumbling out of her berth, Bedr-ul-Budûr found in her box a fold of thick white gauze, which she proceeded to throw round the face of Barakah, attaching it to the bonnet with two little brooches.
“By Allah, that is better!” she remarked, and then gave all her mind to her own dressing.
When this was finished, her appearance smote the eye. Her bonnet was sky-blue, the thick white veil depending from it like a curtain, her dress a lively pink, her stockings white, her boots and gloves bright yellow, shining in their newness; she had a pale blue parasol adorned with frills of lace.
“The Franks wear many colours,” she remarked to Barakah, adding with childish wonder, “Why are yours so dull?... By Allah, I feel naked in the middle.”
So did Barakah. To one accustomed to go shrouded, a dress which emphasized the hips and bust seemed vile at first.
Yûsuf and Hâfiz fetched them up on deck, where they found two more ladies garishly arrayed, and two more men in French-made suits and fezes.
After the introduction all stood awkwardly, gaping like children who have lost remembrance of their part. Barakah, to ease the strain, remarked to Hâfiz Bey upon the beauty of the morning, the bustle of the harbour of Marseilles; but his response was marred by evident embarrassment; his eyes kept veering round to look at Yûsuf, whom he soon rejoined. The ladies formed a group apart, in titters at each other’s odd appearance. Presently a man, clad as a Frank, approached with Arab greetings. He kissed the hand of Hâfiz Bey, who welcomed him. It seemed he had been warned by letter to prepare the way for them.
“All is ready, lords of bounty!” he exclaimed. “Deign but to follow me, the ladies with you.”
The drive along the quays through noisy streets to the hotel, the breakfast which their guide assured them had been cooked and chosen in accordance with religious law, were trammelled by constraint, and went off sadly. Only in the train, where they were separated, each sex enjoying a reserved compartment, did conversation flow. Among the women it was soon uproarious. They talked and laughed half through the night, appealing constantly to Barakah, a European born, for information. The appearance of the men at every station, to ascertain that they were well, produced a hush; but no sooner were the despots gone again than the mad talk and laughter raged anew.
At length they tired and tried to rest. They cursed the narrowness of the divans, the work of devils. When morning came, Bedr-ul-Budûr was at the point of death once more, asking her Maker what she had done to earn such disrespectful treatment; while Barakah, beside the window, looking out at Christian villages, was haunted by remembrance and grew sad.
The sun had long been up when they reached Paris. Yûsuf and Hâfiz, Bedr-ul-Budûr and Barakah, packed in one cab, were driven with a rattle through tumultuous streets to the hotel where rooms had been engaged for them. The hostess, a stout woman elegantly dressed in black, and theentire staff stood out to welcome them. The woman bowed incessantly, addressing Yûsuf and his friend as “Monseigneur.” Finding that Barakah knew French she drew to her and poured a smooth flow of amenities into her ear.
“Madame has only to command—all that she desires. The nobility of the Orient are our most valued clients. Should madame require conversation, I am always at her service. The princes come to Paris for diversion, that is understood. Young men so rich! They must amuse themselves! But then their ladies must not find the life too sad.”
Thus prattling, she conducted them upstairs and flung open a door, exclaiming: “Voila!” Crossing the landing to another door, she flung that open also. “Voila!” she cried again. Bedr-ul-Budûr, so tired that she could hardly drag her feet up, chose the left-hand room, which happened to be nearest. Yûsuf and Barakah proceeded to the other. Both parties ordered coffee and some light refreshment, and after breakfasting went straight to bed. They rested until evening, when the men went out to find their friends, whose lodging was close by. They returned with sundry purchases, hats, gloves, and scarves, which they declared they needed for complete disguise.
On the next morning the whole party, in two carriages, went out to smell the air and view the city. It was a cloudless day and the streets sparkled, the trees along the boulevards were likefat green posies. They were feeling happy when, in an important thoroughfare, they discovered people pointing at them, drivers shouting. Yûsuf and his seat companion Hâfiz grew uncomfortable. Cries of amazement reached them from the other carriage. Their cabman turned round with a grin and told them:
“‘Place aux dames,’ messieurs!—That is what they cry. These ladies are not slaves with us, que diable!”
The two men had been lounging in the roomy seat which faced the horse. They at once resigned it, addressing bows and smiles of deference to the angry multitude; and called out to their friends to do the like. But the incident destroyed their pleasure in the drive; nor were the ladies happy in the seat of honour, a gazing-stock for infidels who might possess the evil eye.
“Saw one ever such fanaticism?” groaned Yûsuf. “And they call this country free—a place where every one does what he likes!”
That afternoon was spent in the hotel in a strange manner; Barakah, at the demand of Yûsuf, instructing the four men in foreign customs. They posed and pirouetted in her salon, rehearsing bows, the flourish of a hat, the proper compliments; while the three girls looked on with saucer eyes. After dinner they again appeared before her, this time without their fezes, wearing hats which gave to them a very villainous and sleek appearance.Required to criticize their dress and bearing from a Frankish standpoint, she suggested some improvements which were hailed with gratitude. Yûsuf returned home after midnight, tired but garrulous. It seemed that they had lighted on a charming Frenchman, who undertook to show them all the sights. Next day the men rose late and then went out together, leaving the women to their own devices; returned to dinner, then went off again, remaining out this time till nearly morning.
The programme did not vary on succeeding days. The girls, deserted, clung to Barakah. They wailed and prayed to God, and dreamed of Cairo. At length one of them—it was Bedr-ul-Budûr—took courage to reproach her lord; when all four men were stricken with amazement. They had thought the ladies would be gay indoors without them, as they were at home. To cheer them up, a trip to Versailles was arranged. It passed off gaily, with less shyness than usually appeared when they all mixed together. As they strolled about the park, a youth named Izz-ud-dîn made up to Barakah, and with the greatest diffidence implored her to confide to him the secret how to win the love of Frankish ladies. When she smilingly assured him there was none, he cried:
“O Lord of Heaven! Then thou wilt not tell it. They are so easy to their own men, as we know from books; to us so difficult. It cannot be fanaticism, since we seem as Franks.”
“But what need hast thou of women, with a pearl of beauty here beside thee?” questioned Barakah.
“One who has beheld thy loveliness must evermore desire the like of it! Oh, that thou hadst a sister for me!” he made answer glibly.
He moved away, but presently another came and made the same preposterous request, retreating with the same forced compliment; and on the journey home, when Yûsuf closed his eyes and seemed to sleep, Hâfiz Bey, whom she had thought more sensible, approached her in his turn. When she denied all knowledge of the matter he answered in low tones:
“There is a secret, that is known, by Allah. Thou hast it, and hast given hints to Yûsuf; else why should he be more successful than the rest of us?”
“Because he is better looking,” it was on the tip of her tongue to say, as she surveyed the fat, good-tempered face of Hâfiz with its Chinese eyes. It was all that she could do to keep from screams of laughter.
“It is my dream,” he whispered. “By Allah it disturbs my nights with cruel pain—to take a lady just like thee in all respects—a Frank and noble, of extreme refinement—back with me to Masr.”
She derided him. He still continued pleading, supporting his petition with the grossest flattery,till they reached home, when Yûsuf suddenly sprang up and glowered at Hâfiz. He had been feigning sleep. It was a thunderbolt. Bedr-ul-Budûr screamed warning to her lord, who gave but a single look and fled indoors, the jealous one pursuing like a madman. In the hall the harmless youth was overtaken and turned round to plead. With a howl of “Dog!” Yûsuf sprang at his throat and bore him to the ground. Like dogs in very truth they fought till parted by the hotel servants with the help of broomsticks; while Barakah strove in vain to make her explanation heard; Bedr-ul-Budûr appealed to Allah and the prophet; and the landlady from the third step of the stairs, with hands and eyes thrown up, exclaimed repeatedly: “O ciel! C’est monseigneur!”
CHAPTER XVIIHalf an hour later Yûsuf and Hâfiz were in each other’s arms, sighing gustily and rocking to and fro in the ecstasy of reconciliation. Barakah had explained things to her husband in the interim, taking him to task severely for his savage conduct. To be thought uncivilized had always been his dread, and just then, with red eyes and all dishevelled, a-quiver from the fray, he stood convicted. With repentant tears he ran to ask forgiveness of his late antagonist.It was decided that they twain, with their respective consorts, should spend the evening quietly in Yûsuf’s room; in pursuance of which resolution they had supped together, and Bedr-ul-Budûr, who owned a lute, was going to sing, when a card was brought to Hâfiz by the chamber-maid. He frowned and clenched his teeth as he examined it.“It is the Prince, my uncle!” he exclaimed. “He has been told our whereabouts; it must be by my father, since we have been careful not to call on any of the Turks in Paris. O Calamity! My uncle is correct and cold, a madman who condemns all pleasure.”With haste he sent his concubine into her own apartment, while Yûsuf hustled Barakah into the dressing-room and locked the door. No would-be Franks received the exiled Prince, but a pair of ceremonious Orientals, with fezes carried at the most respectful angle, who strove with one another to be first to kiss his hand.The Prince was a tremendous talker. A scion of the ruling house of Egypt, enduring banishment for his political opinions, he began upon the state of that unhappy country for which he saw no hope save in a European form of government. He wished the young men to attend the meetings of his club, “the Friends of Progress,” at a café on the Boulevard des Italiens; and the young men swore to do so on the first evening they could spare from the study of French thought and institutions which at present took up every minute of their time.From national affairs the Prince passed on to household matters, advocating education for all women and promotion to an equal rank with men. At this his nephew cried:“We think as you do, having each a lady whom we treat precisely in the Frankish manner. Yûsuf here present has espoused a noble Englishwoman, who instructs us. Introduce her, Yûsuf, since my uncle shares our views.”Barakah expected her release, which she had long desired, for the Prince’s voice was wonderfullysweet and winning, and she burned with curiosity to see his face. But the talk sheered off from her. The Prince, resenting the intrusion of a concrete instance on ideas, rebuked the young men sternly, causing both to cringe.“You mistake my meaning,” he informed them. “God forbid that I should wish our ladies to resemble closely those of Europe. If you desire that, you are very foolish. The harîm life, or something like it, is the best for women. It only needs reform and elevation. It is a system founded on the laws of God expressed in nature, whereas the European way of treating women has no sanction. The latter seems entirely meretricious when one sees how ladies here make sport of marriage and shun motherhood—how children flout and override their parents. If the understanding of our women were improved, their status raised, I think our way would be acknowledged better by impartial judges. No, all that I would borrow from the Franks would be a weapon. They excel us in mechanical contrivances, in practical education, and in method. These gifts I covet, for with equal weapons we should be their masters; our Faith exceeding any motive power which they possess.”He went on talking in this strain till nearly midnight, when he left abruptly. Barakah was then let out of her dark prison. Alone with Yûsuf, she inquired his real opinion of the Prince’s views, which seemed to her inspiring.“Like pitch! Like dung!” he answered in the vulgar speech of Egypt. “The production of ideas is an amusing pastime. It is strange, the things a man can think of if he applies his mind to it. And when a Prince is speaking one admires, of course; though this one is a madman who has lost a fine position and will lose his life merely for love of argument. What we are and do belongs to Allah. No thinking or wild talk affects it, praise to Him!”He seemed glad to change the subject. Putting his arm round Barakah, he begged her in seductive tones to confide to him the secret about Frankish women.“It is not for myself I ask,” he whispered fondly; “but Hâfiz, Izz-ud-dîn, and Saïd die to know. Where are these balls at which distinguished women fling aside all shame? We have been to dances, but the women there are base and ribald, showing none of that refinement in depravity which charms the mind in writings of this country.”In vain did she assure him that good Frankish women were every whit as moral as good Orientals.“We have their books for testimony,” was his answer. And again he told her: “It is for my friends I plead. I myself, as is well known, desire thee only.”The women were left more and more alone, the private explorations of their lords bereaving themby day as well as night. Barakah did her best to entertain them. Together with the landlady she planned excursions, and took them to the ateliers where modes are created. But the sense of desolation dogged them everywhere. Scenes which they might have viewed with pleasure had their lords been faithful, encounters which might then have given them a thrill of mischief, appeared heart-rending in their luckless state. The very gaiety of the Parisian streets seemed gruesome. If a man in passing touched them they were seized with trembling, and once or twice came very near to fainting from pure shame; and their terror was intense at passing unknown doorways, though the landlady assured them there was not the slightest danger.Their haunting fear was lest male unbelievers should abduct them; still more, perhaps, lest they should come to wish for such a fate—the most appalling that could be imagined for a Muslim woman. Bedr-ul-Budûr declared she knew a girl who, married to an infidel, brought forth black beetles—“not one, but thousands! millions!”—she related graphically—which at length devoured her. Such stories were received with acclamation, as justifying the extreme abhorrence which they felt for Frenchmen. And Barakah, though she tried to reason with them, shared their feelings in some measure, dismayed by the vulgarity of Western life. When, addedto all this, it rained for five days in succession, her friends resigned their cause to God and ceased to worry, while she herself grew thoroughly despondent.The girls shrugged shoulders at the sinful folly of their owners, now too far gone in dissipation to endure reproaches.“It is a malady, a madness,” said Bedr-ul-Budûr, with resignation. “It is the air of infidelity in this accursed city. We did wrong to travel unprovided with the antidote, which must be known to sages and obtainable. It is bad enough for us, but what of Barakah—a chief wife, a great lady? How can she endure it?”Barakah did at last think fit to make a protest. One night and early morning she sat up for Yûsuf, and her reproaches met with a success which startled her. He wept aloud and flung himself upon the floor. His face was ghastly. When questioned, he confessed that he had sinned most foully, having that night consumed so much abomination that on his way home he had been struck down by God with awful sickness and had nearly died. He swore that none but devils lived in Paris, and implored her to transport him back to Egypt.A picture seen the previous morning in a shop upon the boulevard had roused in Barakah the wish to visit Switzerland. She longed to walk by forest streams, beneath great mountains, in solitude, with keen, cool breezes to restore her spirits.“Paris is not the whole of Europe,” she informed him gently. “There are scenes of famous beauty which we ought to visit. Take me to Switzerland!”“At once!” he cried. “This very day now dawning! By Allah, I would go to Gebel Câf with thee alone to get away from Paris.”She bade him tell his friends to treat their women better, which he swore to do; and directly after breakfast took him out, while his resolve was eager, to obtain money from the bank where he had credit, and buy tickets to Geneva, the first name occurring to her. She was glad that she had taken this precaution when, later in the day, she saw his purpose weaken. The tickets actually bought alone sustained it, for he had the Oriental’s shrewd regard for money’s worth. That night they spent in the train, both cherishing sensations of deliverance, though those of Barakah were chequered by the vision of three weeping girls, who at the moment of departure had embraced her knees and tried to hold her.Their Alpine tour, however, was of short duration. Yûsuf was contented in Geneva, giving praise to Allah for the vast supply of drinking water. But when, at her suggestion, they moved on to Chamounix, his feeling changed. His face went green as on that night in Paris. His nostrils and his eyes distended to their utmost, reminding the observer of a frightened horse. The sight of the great mountains closing in and hanging overhim oppressed his soul with terror which was not diminished by the occurrence in the hour of their arrival of a dreadful thunderstorm. When he saw the numbers of the visitors he gasped and questioned: “Come these here for pleasure? Is it possible? A place so frightful, so appalling, like Gehennum! If one came with a large company, with music and loud songs that never ceased, and kept his eyes shut all the time, it might be bearable; supposing one were forced to do it, for some crime ... For pleasure, sayest thou? What pleasure can they find?”“They walk and climb the mountains. They love Nature. And the air is excellent.”“By Allah, wild beasts! Human beings are more sensitive. How can they love Nature who approve her in most horrid mood? It is evident that God Most High designed such scenes for a warning and a menace, to be shunned. Yet these applaud. They are utterly devoid of feeling. May Our Lord destroy them!”A prey to panic, he no longer heard her arguments. His one desire was to rejoin his friends as soon as might be, to see once more the visage of a true believer; and two days later they were back in Paris.Barakah’s return was hailed with rapture by the hapless girls, who had not ventured out of doors during her absence. Things, they declared, were even worse than ere she left, their men more shameless. Yûsuf had sworn beforehand to discountenance nocturnal outings, and for the first two days he kept his word; though Hâfiz and the others begged her to release him from it, protesting that their occupations were most innocent. Indeed, their childlike zest in evil-doing so resembled innocence that she felt cruel when refusing, as if denying babies some small pleasure. But on the third day Yûsuf came to her, with worried frown, and said:“Hâfiz and the rest, I fear, are going much too far. I feel responsible for them, since we are all one party. They do not tell me all their pranks. I have been thinking. It is my duty to be with them and restrain their conduct.”“Do what thou judgest right and God preserve thee!” answered Barakah, with a point of irony which he did not perceive.“My conscience is relieved,” he cried. “I thank thee. God knows how it has troubled me since our return.”That evening he departed with his friends, leaving Barakah to hear the lamentations of the girls.“They are all bewitched,” cried Bedr. “Hâfiz is by nature pious. Even now he names the Name of Allah when he opens any door and curses the religion of the infidels when passing by their idols in the streets and squares. Our Lord preserve his life! Each night I see him dead in some disgraceful haunt, his house dishonoured. Oh that I knewa good magician, a true believer, in this land of mangy dogs!”Their fears, against her will, infected Barakah; during the long night-watches they became a sickness, and when day broke again they seemed confirmed. Yûsuf had not returned. She went to Bedr-ul-Budûr and found her in the same anxiety. They sat together, wondering what to do. Grey light at the window, raindrops coursing down the panes, made anguish visible.At length, when eight o’clock had struck, there came a note for Barakah. It was in French, and from the exiled Prince, the revolutionary. It bade her have no fear; her husband would be with her in an hour, when the writer hoped, with her permission, to present his compliments in person and explain the case. The other girls had come by that time from their lodgings to get strength from Barakah. Conjecture ravened round the simple statement in the letter. At ten o’clock the Prince sent up his card; the three girls fled across the passage just in time to avoid encountering the visitor, who led into the room the errant youths. The Prince, a lean, ascetic-looking man, with boyish eyes, bowed low to Barakah.“Madame,” he opened, with a flourish of his hand towards the group of reprobates, “I ask you to remember of your husband, and also beg you to remind the fair companions of my nephew and these other gentlemen, that they are young, these boys, and therefore capable of progress. It is a proofthat they possess some germ of sense, which later may develop into mind, that, being terrified at last, they sent to me. I found them in a most equivocal position—in fact, dear madame, at the Conciergerie. Thanks to my relations with important people in this city, I had no difficulty in procuring their release, since they were not precisely guilty, only imbecile. I am glad to have been able to assist them, for the love I bear their parents and our common Faith. But they will allow me to remark that vicious boys should travel only with a tutor, who should have a whip. It disgusts me even to conceive that any man could be so foolish as to quit the side of one so lovely and so virtuous as you, madame, to follow beastliness. Dear madame, your servant!”He retired; when Yûsuf and the others pressed round Barakah, a group of penitent and frightened children. Hâfiz, the fat, knelt down before her, tears coursing down his cheeks; Saïd kissed her raiment; Yûsuf pleaded in her ear. They had done wrong, they owned, though nothing very dreadful. Some elegant ladies had admitted them to their society; they were sitting in a café communing in all refinement, when horrible low men arrived and claimed those ladies. One threw a glass at Saïd and cut his face—the wound was shown—on which there was a scuffle; gendarmes came and, siding with their co-religionists, conveyed the righteous Muslims straight to prison.“Where we should have stayed for ever, had not Hâfiz thought of calling in his uncle,” blubbered Izz-ud-dîn; “simply for being Muslims, they are so fanatical.”All four were bent upon return to Egypt, since Paris had become a place of terror. The rapture of the girls was indescribable. They danced and clapped their hands, embraced each other, laughed, cried, and gave way to all kinds of folly. Bedr-ul-Budûr made vows to divers saints, and held delighted conversations with her mother long since dead.Four days later they were all on board a steamer, quitting France. The sea was smooth; the ladies stayed on deck. There was no longer any question of confining them in stuffy cabins; experience of Frankish manners had done that much good.Yûsuf turned round from cursing the fair country they were leaving, to look ahead across the vast expanse of sparkling sea.“O land of Egypt! Blessed one!” he sighed. “Most beautiful of all that see the sun! In thee are no hideous and shocking mountains, no cataracts, no chasms, no ferocious beasts or savage people such as appal the traveller in other lands. All is flat and smooth and debonair in thee; and if thou housest infidels they dare not bite. Thy Nile is smooth and good to drink, not putrid and for ever kicking like this sea. May Allahbring us to thy shores in safety and never let us leave them any more, but live in honour, eating, drinking, fasting in due season, praising God, doing good deeds, and getting many children!”At this conclusion there was laughter and applause.“Amîn!” cried Hâfiz. “By Allah, it is true. The air of lands of infidelity breeds madness. Hail, O Egypt!”
Half an hour later Yûsuf and Hâfiz were in each other’s arms, sighing gustily and rocking to and fro in the ecstasy of reconciliation. Barakah had explained things to her husband in the interim, taking him to task severely for his savage conduct. To be thought uncivilized had always been his dread, and just then, with red eyes and all dishevelled, a-quiver from the fray, he stood convicted. With repentant tears he ran to ask forgiveness of his late antagonist.
It was decided that they twain, with their respective consorts, should spend the evening quietly in Yûsuf’s room; in pursuance of which resolution they had supped together, and Bedr-ul-Budûr, who owned a lute, was going to sing, when a card was brought to Hâfiz by the chamber-maid. He frowned and clenched his teeth as he examined it.
“It is the Prince, my uncle!” he exclaimed. “He has been told our whereabouts; it must be by my father, since we have been careful not to call on any of the Turks in Paris. O Calamity! My uncle is correct and cold, a madman who condemns all pleasure.”
With haste he sent his concubine into her own apartment, while Yûsuf hustled Barakah into the dressing-room and locked the door. No would-be Franks received the exiled Prince, but a pair of ceremonious Orientals, with fezes carried at the most respectful angle, who strove with one another to be first to kiss his hand.
The Prince was a tremendous talker. A scion of the ruling house of Egypt, enduring banishment for his political opinions, he began upon the state of that unhappy country for which he saw no hope save in a European form of government. He wished the young men to attend the meetings of his club, “the Friends of Progress,” at a café on the Boulevard des Italiens; and the young men swore to do so on the first evening they could spare from the study of French thought and institutions which at present took up every minute of their time.
From national affairs the Prince passed on to household matters, advocating education for all women and promotion to an equal rank with men. At this his nephew cried:
“We think as you do, having each a lady whom we treat precisely in the Frankish manner. Yûsuf here present has espoused a noble Englishwoman, who instructs us. Introduce her, Yûsuf, since my uncle shares our views.”
Barakah expected her release, which she had long desired, for the Prince’s voice was wonderfullysweet and winning, and she burned with curiosity to see his face. But the talk sheered off from her. The Prince, resenting the intrusion of a concrete instance on ideas, rebuked the young men sternly, causing both to cringe.
“You mistake my meaning,” he informed them. “God forbid that I should wish our ladies to resemble closely those of Europe. If you desire that, you are very foolish. The harîm life, or something like it, is the best for women. It only needs reform and elevation. It is a system founded on the laws of God expressed in nature, whereas the European way of treating women has no sanction. The latter seems entirely meretricious when one sees how ladies here make sport of marriage and shun motherhood—how children flout and override their parents. If the understanding of our women were improved, their status raised, I think our way would be acknowledged better by impartial judges. No, all that I would borrow from the Franks would be a weapon. They excel us in mechanical contrivances, in practical education, and in method. These gifts I covet, for with equal weapons we should be their masters; our Faith exceeding any motive power which they possess.”
He went on talking in this strain till nearly midnight, when he left abruptly. Barakah was then let out of her dark prison. Alone with Yûsuf, she inquired his real opinion of the Prince’s views, which seemed to her inspiring.
“Like pitch! Like dung!” he answered in the vulgar speech of Egypt. “The production of ideas is an amusing pastime. It is strange, the things a man can think of if he applies his mind to it. And when a Prince is speaking one admires, of course; though this one is a madman who has lost a fine position and will lose his life merely for love of argument. What we are and do belongs to Allah. No thinking or wild talk affects it, praise to Him!”
He seemed glad to change the subject. Putting his arm round Barakah, he begged her in seductive tones to confide to him the secret about Frankish women.
“It is not for myself I ask,” he whispered fondly; “but Hâfiz, Izz-ud-dîn, and Saïd die to know. Where are these balls at which distinguished women fling aside all shame? We have been to dances, but the women there are base and ribald, showing none of that refinement in depravity which charms the mind in writings of this country.”
In vain did she assure him that good Frankish women were every whit as moral as good Orientals.
“We have their books for testimony,” was his answer. And again he told her: “It is for my friends I plead. I myself, as is well known, desire thee only.”
The women were left more and more alone, the private explorations of their lords bereaving themby day as well as night. Barakah did her best to entertain them. Together with the landlady she planned excursions, and took them to the ateliers where modes are created. But the sense of desolation dogged them everywhere. Scenes which they might have viewed with pleasure had their lords been faithful, encounters which might then have given them a thrill of mischief, appeared heart-rending in their luckless state. The very gaiety of the Parisian streets seemed gruesome. If a man in passing touched them they were seized with trembling, and once or twice came very near to fainting from pure shame; and their terror was intense at passing unknown doorways, though the landlady assured them there was not the slightest danger.
Their haunting fear was lest male unbelievers should abduct them; still more, perhaps, lest they should come to wish for such a fate—the most appalling that could be imagined for a Muslim woman. Bedr-ul-Budûr declared she knew a girl who, married to an infidel, brought forth black beetles—“not one, but thousands! millions!”—she related graphically—which at length devoured her. Such stories were received with acclamation, as justifying the extreme abhorrence which they felt for Frenchmen. And Barakah, though she tried to reason with them, shared their feelings in some measure, dismayed by the vulgarity of Western life. When, addedto all this, it rained for five days in succession, her friends resigned their cause to God and ceased to worry, while she herself grew thoroughly despondent.
The girls shrugged shoulders at the sinful folly of their owners, now too far gone in dissipation to endure reproaches.
“It is a malady, a madness,” said Bedr-ul-Budûr, with resignation. “It is the air of infidelity in this accursed city. We did wrong to travel unprovided with the antidote, which must be known to sages and obtainable. It is bad enough for us, but what of Barakah—a chief wife, a great lady? How can she endure it?”
Barakah did at last think fit to make a protest. One night and early morning she sat up for Yûsuf, and her reproaches met with a success which startled her. He wept aloud and flung himself upon the floor. His face was ghastly. When questioned, he confessed that he had sinned most foully, having that night consumed so much abomination that on his way home he had been struck down by God with awful sickness and had nearly died. He swore that none but devils lived in Paris, and implored her to transport him back to Egypt.
A picture seen the previous morning in a shop upon the boulevard had roused in Barakah the wish to visit Switzerland. She longed to walk by forest streams, beneath great mountains, in solitude, with keen, cool breezes to restore her spirits.
“Paris is not the whole of Europe,” she informed him gently. “There are scenes of famous beauty which we ought to visit. Take me to Switzerland!”
“At once!” he cried. “This very day now dawning! By Allah, I would go to Gebel Câf with thee alone to get away from Paris.”
She bade him tell his friends to treat their women better, which he swore to do; and directly after breakfast took him out, while his resolve was eager, to obtain money from the bank where he had credit, and buy tickets to Geneva, the first name occurring to her. She was glad that she had taken this precaution when, later in the day, she saw his purpose weaken. The tickets actually bought alone sustained it, for he had the Oriental’s shrewd regard for money’s worth. That night they spent in the train, both cherishing sensations of deliverance, though those of Barakah were chequered by the vision of three weeping girls, who at the moment of departure had embraced her knees and tried to hold her.
Their Alpine tour, however, was of short duration. Yûsuf was contented in Geneva, giving praise to Allah for the vast supply of drinking water. But when, at her suggestion, they moved on to Chamounix, his feeling changed. His face went green as on that night in Paris. His nostrils and his eyes distended to their utmost, reminding the observer of a frightened horse. The sight of the great mountains closing in and hanging overhim oppressed his soul with terror which was not diminished by the occurrence in the hour of their arrival of a dreadful thunderstorm. When he saw the numbers of the visitors he gasped and questioned: “Come these here for pleasure? Is it possible? A place so frightful, so appalling, like Gehennum! If one came with a large company, with music and loud songs that never ceased, and kept his eyes shut all the time, it might be bearable; supposing one were forced to do it, for some crime ... For pleasure, sayest thou? What pleasure can they find?”
“They walk and climb the mountains. They love Nature. And the air is excellent.”
“By Allah, wild beasts! Human beings are more sensitive. How can they love Nature who approve her in most horrid mood? It is evident that God Most High designed such scenes for a warning and a menace, to be shunned. Yet these applaud. They are utterly devoid of feeling. May Our Lord destroy them!”
A prey to panic, he no longer heard her arguments. His one desire was to rejoin his friends as soon as might be, to see once more the visage of a true believer; and two days later they were back in Paris.
Barakah’s return was hailed with rapture by the hapless girls, who had not ventured out of doors during her absence. Things, they declared, were even worse than ere she left, their men more shameless. Yûsuf had sworn beforehand to discountenance nocturnal outings, and for the first two days he kept his word; though Hâfiz and the others begged her to release him from it, protesting that their occupations were most innocent. Indeed, their childlike zest in evil-doing so resembled innocence that she felt cruel when refusing, as if denying babies some small pleasure. But on the third day Yûsuf came to her, with worried frown, and said:
“Hâfiz and the rest, I fear, are going much too far. I feel responsible for them, since we are all one party. They do not tell me all their pranks. I have been thinking. It is my duty to be with them and restrain their conduct.”
“Do what thou judgest right and God preserve thee!” answered Barakah, with a point of irony which he did not perceive.
“My conscience is relieved,” he cried. “I thank thee. God knows how it has troubled me since our return.”
That evening he departed with his friends, leaving Barakah to hear the lamentations of the girls.
“They are all bewitched,” cried Bedr. “Hâfiz is by nature pious. Even now he names the Name of Allah when he opens any door and curses the religion of the infidels when passing by their idols in the streets and squares. Our Lord preserve his life! Each night I see him dead in some disgraceful haunt, his house dishonoured. Oh that I knewa good magician, a true believer, in this land of mangy dogs!”
Their fears, against her will, infected Barakah; during the long night-watches they became a sickness, and when day broke again they seemed confirmed. Yûsuf had not returned. She went to Bedr-ul-Budûr and found her in the same anxiety. They sat together, wondering what to do. Grey light at the window, raindrops coursing down the panes, made anguish visible.
At length, when eight o’clock had struck, there came a note for Barakah. It was in French, and from the exiled Prince, the revolutionary. It bade her have no fear; her husband would be with her in an hour, when the writer hoped, with her permission, to present his compliments in person and explain the case. The other girls had come by that time from their lodgings to get strength from Barakah. Conjecture ravened round the simple statement in the letter. At ten o’clock the Prince sent up his card; the three girls fled across the passage just in time to avoid encountering the visitor, who led into the room the errant youths. The Prince, a lean, ascetic-looking man, with boyish eyes, bowed low to Barakah.
“Madame,” he opened, with a flourish of his hand towards the group of reprobates, “I ask you to remember of your husband, and also beg you to remind the fair companions of my nephew and these other gentlemen, that they are young, these boys, and therefore capable of progress. It is a proofthat they possess some germ of sense, which later may develop into mind, that, being terrified at last, they sent to me. I found them in a most equivocal position—in fact, dear madame, at the Conciergerie. Thanks to my relations with important people in this city, I had no difficulty in procuring their release, since they were not precisely guilty, only imbecile. I am glad to have been able to assist them, for the love I bear their parents and our common Faith. But they will allow me to remark that vicious boys should travel only with a tutor, who should have a whip. It disgusts me even to conceive that any man could be so foolish as to quit the side of one so lovely and so virtuous as you, madame, to follow beastliness. Dear madame, your servant!”
He retired; when Yûsuf and the others pressed round Barakah, a group of penitent and frightened children. Hâfiz, the fat, knelt down before her, tears coursing down his cheeks; Saïd kissed her raiment; Yûsuf pleaded in her ear. They had done wrong, they owned, though nothing very dreadful. Some elegant ladies had admitted them to their society; they were sitting in a café communing in all refinement, when horrible low men arrived and claimed those ladies. One threw a glass at Saïd and cut his face—the wound was shown—on which there was a scuffle; gendarmes came and, siding with their co-religionists, conveyed the righteous Muslims straight to prison.
“Where we should have stayed for ever, had not Hâfiz thought of calling in his uncle,” blubbered Izz-ud-dîn; “simply for being Muslims, they are so fanatical.”
All four were bent upon return to Egypt, since Paris had become a place of terror. The rapture of the girls was indescribable. They danced and clapped their hands, embraced each other, laughed, cried, and gave way to all kinds of folly. Bedr-ul-Budûr made vows to divers saints, and held delighted conversations with her mother long since dead.
Four days later they were all on board a steamer, quitting France. The sea was smooth; the ladies stayed on deck. There was no longer any question of confining them in stuffy cabins; experience of Frankish manners had done that much good.
Yûsuf turned round from cursing the fair country they were leaving, to look ahead across the vast expanse of sparkling sea.
“O land of Egypt! Blessed one!” he sighed. “Most beautiful of all that see the sun! In thee are no hideous and shocking mountains, no cataracts, no chasms, no ferocious beasts or savage people such as appal the traveller in other lands. All is flat and smooth and debonair in thee; and if thou housest infidels they dare not bite. Thy Nile is smooth and good to drink, not putrid and for ever kicking like this sea. May Allahbring us to thy shores in safety and never let us leave them any more, but live in honour, eating, drinking, fasting in due season, praising God, doing good deeds, and getting many children!”
At this conclusion there was laughter and applause.
“Amîn!” cried Hâfiz. “By Allah, it is true. The air of lands of infidelity breeds madness. Hail, O Egypt!”
CHAPTER XVIII“A rare place, by Allah!—full to the brim of education and refinement. It is there that one acquires the latest mode and learns to view all creatures with fastidious eyes. In Paris people would be angered at the ignorance which prevails even among our greatest learned men. Thou too shouldst go to Paris, O my dear!”Thus Hâfiz Bey at Alexandria, to a relative who came on board to welcome him. Barakah was much amused to overhear him, as also Yûsuf vaunting Paris to Ghandûr; who, weeping all the time and sighing “Praise to Allah!” heard not a word of what his lord was pleased to say. Great was the joy of seeing Egypt once again. Even for the girls, it wiped out all unpleasantness, making a plaintive tone impossible.Shrouded once more in habbarah and face-veil, they stood and watched the crowd of buildings faint with sunshine, seeming diaphanous between the sapphire sky and a blue sea that looked opaque as lapis lazuli. A gaily coloured people thronged the quays and crossed the harbour in innumerable little boats. A din as rousing as a clarion call,composed of many simple noises, filled the sunlight. The girls, exhilarated, danced on tiptoe as they waited for the word to go ashore. They chattered like small birds, inconsequently, and every minute interjected “Praise to Allah!” Barakah inclined to silence, though she shared their rapture.The face-veil, which she had not worn for many weeks, seemed strange at first. It gave the sense of prying and slight mischief one has in peeping over a forbidden wall. Her eyes above it seemed more penetrating. She turned them from the crowd on shore to follow Yûsuf’s movements. He was now himself again, correct and dignified, commanding as of right, entirely rehabilitated in her good opinion. It seemed to her that the contempt she had so lately felt for him was undeserved. Sinking in a strange element, he had lost his head and for a moment clung to her. The case had been her own at first in Egypt. A minute previous she had said good-bye to Hâfiz, Izz-ud-dîn, and Saïd. It was curious to know that though they would be dwelling near her in the city, meeting Yûsuf daily, she would very likely never see them in this world again. But the prospect did not sadden her at all. Shade and seclusion seemed just then the highest good.Having spoken their polite farewells, Yûsuf and his companions took no further notice of the group of veiled ones. Ghandûr had been deputedto look after them. He ushered them on shore, and sat beside the driver of the carriage which conveyed them to the railway station, praising Allah all the while and weeping tears of joy. In Barakah’s absence, he declared repeatedly, there had been no breeze in Egypt nor any spot of shade for man’s repose. He found them their reserved compartment in the train, and supplied their many needs, procuring sweets, chickpease, pistachio nuts, and hard-boiled eggs from venders on the platform, as well as two large porous jars of drinking-water. The girls asked Allah to take note how good he was, and called him brother.The dazzle and intoxication of great light remained with them even when the door was shut and they were in warm shade. The sunlight here was not like that of Paris, a thing to stare at, but a blinding glory. It danced in flakes of all the colours of the rainbow, making the buildings and the people pale and ghostlike. The very heat which soon reigned in their moving box, the very dust which drifted through its shutters, were welcome, being heat and dust of Egypt; and at the stations, when familiar cries were heard, the speech of true believers built upon the name of Allah, the girls could not contain their sentiments, but bounced upon the seats and shrieked for joy.“Hear what I am going to do, by Allah’s leave,” cried Bedr. “Immediately on my arrival at thepalace, before seeing any one, I shall go to the hammâm and make our old bellânah scrub and knead me till every vestige of the dust of Paris is abolished. Then she shall dye my hands and feet with henna and shall kohl my eyes and eyebrows,—if we had not been forbidden to take kohl to Paris, our men would not have left us as they did,—and then I shall stretch myself like a sleek cat and looking at my pretty hennaed toes, shall say, ‘I seek refuge in Allah from the abomination of the infidels.’ That done, and being dressed in my most splendid robes, I shall present myself before my ladies, and shall lie to them; declaring that I was most happy there in Paris, that Hâfiz Bey refused to leave me for a single instant. The ladies will not doubt me, seeing my great beauty, and Hâfiz Bey, you may be sure, will not deny my story. Thus shall I gain more favour in his eyes, and make his wife—the proud one!—wish that she had gone instead of me. What say you?”“By Allah, we will do the same in all respects!” her companions cried delightedly. “But what of Barakah? Promise, O Barakah, to hide the truth from the harîm!”Barakah promised; when they made her swear to love them always, though they were but slave-girls and she a dignified and noble lady, for the sake of the misfortunes they had borne together. They all clung round her when the train reached Cairo. The door of their compartment was flung open bySawwâb in person, grinning welcome, with other eunuchs close behind him on the platform.Sawwâb conducted Barakah with honour to the harîm carriage, entering which she was hugged breathless by the lady Fitnah, while Leylah Khânum and her daughters started chattering, telling her all the news at once and in a single breath.Gulbeyzah had been married a whole month. She was absent in the country with her lord’s whole house, but would return, it was expected, in a week or two. Had Barakah heard in Europe—no doubt she had—that the Sea Canal was to be opened in the coming year, with great festivities?—the King and Queen of France were coming, it was rumoured. Murjânah Khânum had been far from well. That was why she had not come to welcome Barakah, to whom she sent her warmest salutations. Barakah was not going to the garden-house this time, but to the Pasha’s palace, to remain with them, the praise to Allah! Fitnah herself had seen the rooms cleaned out and perfumed. One of the blacks, Zamurrudah, was dead, the Lord have mercy on her! The old striped cat had kittens, lucky one! The Pasha’s nieces were quite positive about the fact, though no one had been able to find out their hiding-place.As Barakah, caressed by all of them, received this outpour, her feeling of home-coming was complete. And when she came to her own gilded salon—the same where she had sipped the poison which seemed now a dream—there was a slave-girl of Murjânah Khânum’s waiting to conduct her to the bath, with a present of rare flowers and fruit, and a robe of honour which she was to don, when she had rested, for supper in Murjânah Khânum’s rooms, where all the ladies were invited to meet her.The ladies, having voided their own news, desired a full account of Paris and her doings. “In sh´Allah, thou wast happy there!” they all exclaimed. When she replied, “My happiness is here with you,” the answer gave unbounded satisfaction. From their remarks she learnt, to her no small amazement, that Hâfiz Bey was the son of her old friend Aminâh Khânum.“Thou didst not know?” they cried. “How can that be? And Bedr-ul-Budûr—surely thou hast heard of her—the slave whose beauty the Princess was always vaunting? It is very strange!”The placid gossip and the shaded calm existence were delightful after months of agitation. Barakah fell into the harîm habits with enthusiasm, devouring sweetstuff at all hours, enjoying cigarettes and the narghileh. The best part of her morning was spent at the bath, where the ladies met for gossip and for healthful exercise; her afternoon in seeing visitors or paying visits. Gulbeyzah came to see her, radiating gladness, extolling not her husband but her fellow-wives.“We spend such merry days together,” she informed her friend. “Oh, how much better than to be an only wife!”When Barakah returned the visit, she was received by the four durrahs with one voice of welcome. The four together formed a charming small society, quite independent of the husband’s humours and the outside world. All their possessions they enjoyed in common, even children. Barakah was begged to come and see them often, and to love them all.She would have been completely happy in those days but for embarrassment arising from a secret which she longed yet feared to tell. She was with child. Suspicion grew to certainty and still she put off the announcement, dreading the outcry of these candid women and the harîm ceremonies. It slipped from her by accident, one afternoon, and the fuss they made proved even worse than expectation.Amînah Khânum brought Bedr-ul-Budûr to see her, saying:“This girl of mine has news to tell you.”The old Princess herself proclaimed the news with praise to Allah. A flush suffused the listener from head to foot.“I too——” she murmured, and then stopped in great confusion. Amînah Khânum pounced on her with eager questions. Bedr-ul-Budûr knelt down before her in an ecstasy.“Thou, too, art blest? And thou hast kept itsecret all this while?” the Princess cried. “O Bedr, go and beg the lady Fitnah to come hither instantly!”“No, no!” entreated Barakah, distraught with shame.“Yes, yes!” replied the other, scoffing at her. “Is this the famed false modesty of England? Praise God Most High that thou art fruitful, praise Him loudly!”The joy of Fitnah Khânum passed all bounds. She sent a messenger at once to Yûsuf, another to the Pasha, with the tidings. The Pasha came at once to pay his compliments to Barakah. Yûsuf came later, having thought it necessary to circulate the happy news among his friends. Ghandûr, who, as the water-carrier of the apartment, sat always in the alley, underneath the lady’s lattice, was heard intoning a loud song of triumph, three parts prayer, of which each verse concluded with: “Twin boys, in sh´Allah!”Joy-shrieks resounded; the whole household smiled; her friends thronged round her, informed of her good luck as if by miracle, for black-shrouded newsbearers were ever flitting by shadowed walls, along the edge of crowded markets, linking the great harîms in one society, and what was done in one was known in all. And Barakah alone saw any call for shame or reticence.From that day forth she was the idol of her little world, her every want forestalled by warmsolicitude. Murjânah Khânum talked to her in a religious strain; Fitnah, more homely, prepared dainties for her; the Pasha’s sister came and told her stories. The very children talked aloud of her condition, and hailed it as a blessing to the house.She had a good excuse for shunning the festivities which took place on the arrival of the Emperor of the French in Cairo; though her husband was employed in the reception, and all the ladies were agog to see the Empress. She wished to be entirely Oriental. Frankish talk disgusted her. Any reminder that the Europeans still existed was annoying; how much more to hear them vaunted by her Eastern friends. Yûsuf himself made fun of her fanaticism. The women humoured her conceit with knowing smiles.Gulbeyzah and Bedr-ul-Budûr, both in the same condition, were her constant visitors. Amînah Khânum gave advice in her brusque way, and as the Englishwoman’s time drew near, did more for her protection than she knew of in her illness; impressing on Muhammad Pasha through Murjânah the necessity of calling in a Frankish doctor, and herself procuring from the Mufti the religious judgment which stilled the angry outcry of the harîm midwives.The hour of trial came at length—an anguish worse than death, succeeded by a happiness as calm as heaven. From the cries of jubilation filling all the house, from the blessings showeredon her within the chamber, she knew that she had borne a son. She saw the blue of evening at the lattice, heard the murmur of the tired city like a voice of waters, and, lulled by vast contentment, fell asleep.
“A rare place, by Allah!—full to the brim of education and refinement. It is there that one acquires the latest mode and learns to view all creatures with fastidious eyes. In Paris people would be angered at the ignorance which prevails even among our greatest learned men. Thou too shouldst go to Paris, O my dear!”
Thus Hâfiz Bey at Alexandria, to a relative who came on board to welcome him. Barakah was much amused to overhear him, as also Yûsuf vaunting Paris to Ghandûr; who, weeping all the time and sighing “Praise to Allah!” heard not a word of what his lord was pleased to say. Great was the joy of seeing Egypt once again. Even for the girls, it wiped out all unpleasantness, making a plaintive tone impossible.
Shrouded once more in habbarah and face-veil, they stood and watched the crowd of buildings faint with sunshine, seeming diaphanous between the sapphire sky and a blue sea that looked opaque as lapis lazuli. A gaily coloured people thronged the quays and crossed the harbour in innumerable little boats. A din as rousing as a clarion call,composed of many simple noises, filled the sunlight. The girls, exhilarated, danced on tiptoe as they waited for the word to go ashore. They chattered like small birds, inconsequently, and every minute interjected “Praise to Allah!” Barakah inclined to silence, though she shared their rapture.
The face-veil, which she had not worn for many weeks, seemed strange at first. It gave the sense of prying and slight mischief one has in peeping over a forbidden wall. Her eyes above it seemed more penetrating. She turned them from the crowd on shore to follow Yûsuf’s movements. He was now himself again, correct and dignified, commanding as of right, entirely rehabilitated in her good opinion. It seemed to her that the contempt she had so lately felt for him was undeserved. Sinking in a strange element, he had lost his head and for a moment clung to her. The case had been her own at first in Egypt. A minute previous she had said good-bye to Hâfiz, Izz-ud-dîn, and Saïd. It was curious to know that though they would be dwelling near her in the city, meeting Yûsuf daily, she would very likely never see them in this world again. But the prospect did not sadden her at all. Shade and seclusion seemed just then the highest good.
Having spoken their polite farewells, Yûsuf and his companions took no further notice of the group of veiled ones. Ghandûr had been deputedto look after them. He ushered them on shore, and sat beside the driver of the carriage which conveyed them to the railway station, praising Allah all the while and weeping tears of joy. In Barakah’s absence, he declared repeatedly, there had been no breeze in Egypt nor any spot of shade for man’s repose. He found them their reserved compartment in the train, and supplied their many needs, procuring sweets, chickpease, pistachio nuts, and hard-boiled eggs from venders on the platform, as well as two large porous jars of drinking-water. The girls asked Allah to take note how good he was, and called him brother.
The dazzle and intoxication of great light remained with them even when the door was shut and they were in warm shade. The sunlight here was not like that of Paris, a thing to stare at, but a blinding glory. It danced in flakes of all the colours of the rainbow, making the buildings and the people pale and ghostlike. The very heat which soon reigned in their moving box, the very dust which drifted through its shutters, were welcome, being heat and dust of Egypt; and at the stations, when familiar cries were heard, the speech of true believers built upon the name of Allah, the girls could not contain their sentiments, but bounced upon the seats and shrieked for joy.
“Hear what I am going to do, by Allah’s leave,” cried Bedr. “Immediately on my arrival at thepalace, before seeing any one, I shall go to the hammâm and make our old bellânah scrub and knead me till every vestige of the dust of Paris is abolished. Then she shall dye my hands and feet with henna and shall kohl my eyes and eyebrows,—if we had not been forbidden to take kohl to Paris, our men would not have left us as they did,—and then I shall stretch myself like a sleek cat and looking at my pretty hennaed toes, shall say, ‘I seek refuge in Allah from the abomination of the infidels.’ That done, and being dressed in my most splendid robes, I shall present myself before my ladies, and shall lie to them; declaring that I was most happy there in Paris, that Hâfiz Bey refused to leave me for a single instant. The ladies will not doubt me, seeing my great beauty, and Hâfiz Bey, you may be sure, will not deny my story. Thus shall I gain more favour in his eyes, and make his wife—the proud one!—wish that she had gone instead of me. What say you?”
“By Allah, we will do the same in all respects!” her companions cried delightedly. “But what of Barakah? Promise, O Barakah, to hide the truth from the harîm!”
Barakah promised; when they made her swear to love them always, though they were but slave-girls and she a dignified and noble lady, for the sake of the misfortunes they had borne together. They all clung round her when the train reached Cairo. The door of their compartment was flung open bySawwâb in person, grinning welcome, with other eunuchs close behind him on the platform.
Sawwâb conducted Barakah with honour to the harîm carriage, entering which she was hugged breathless by the lady Fitnah, while Leylah Khânum and her daughters started chattering, telling her all the news at once and in a single breath.
Gulbeyzah had been married a whole month. She was absent in the country with her lord’s whole house, but would return, it was expected, in a week or two. Had Barakah heard in Europe—no doubt she had—that the Sea Canal was to be opened in the coming year, with great festivities?—the King and Queen of France were coming, it was rumoured. Murjânah Khânum had been far from well. That was why she had not come to welcome Barakah, to whom she sent her warmest salutations. Barakah was not going to the garden-house this time, but to the Pasha’s palace, to remain with them, the praise to Allah! Fitnah herself had seen the rooms cleaned out and perfumed. One of the blacks, Zamurrudah, was dead, the Lord have mercy on her! The old striped cat had kittens, lucky one! The Pasha’s nieces were quite positive about the fact, though no one had been able to find out their hiding-place.
As Barakah, caressed by all of them, received this outpour, her feeling of home-coming was complete. And when she came to her own gilded salon—the same where she had sipped the poison which seemed now a dream—there was a slave-girl of Murjânah Khânum’s waiting to conduct her to the bath, with a present of rare flowers and fruit, and a robe of honour which she was to don, when she had rested, for supper in Murjânah Khânum’s rooms, where all the ladies were invited to meet her.
The ladies, having voided their own news, desired a full account of Paris and her doings. “In sh´Allah, thou wast happy there!” they all exclaimed. When she replied, “My happiness is here with you,” the answer gave unbounded satisfaction. From their remarks she learnt, to her no small amazement, that Hâfiz Bey was the son of her old friend Aminâh Khânum.
“Thou didst not know?” they cried. “How can that be? And Bedr-ul-Budûr—surely thou hast heard of her—the slave whose beauty the Princess was always vaunting? It is very strange!”
The placid gossip and the shaded calm existence were delightful after months of agitation. Barakah fell into the harîm habits with enthusiasm, devouring sweetstuff at all hours, enjoying cigarettes and the narghileh. The best part of her morning was spent at the bath, where the ladies met for gossip and for healthful exercise; her afternoon in seeing visitors or paying visits. Gulbeyzah came to see her, radiating gladness, extolling not her husband but her fellow-wives.
“We spend such merry days together,” she informed her friend. “Oh, how much better than to be an only wife!”
When Barakah returned the visit, she was received by the four durrahs with one voice of welcome. The four together formed a charming small society, quite independent of the husband’s humours and the outside world. All their possessions they enjoyed in common, even children. Barakah was begged to come and see them often, and to love them all.
She would have been completely happy in those days but for embarrassment arising from a secret which she longed yet feared to tell. She was with child. Suspicion grew to certainty and still she put off the announcement, dreading the outcry of these candid women and the harîm ceremonies. It slipped from her by accident, one afternoon, and the fuss they made proved even worse than expectation.
Amînah Khânum brought Bedr-ul-Budûr to see her, saying:
“This girl of mine has news to tell you.”
The old Princess herself proclaimed the news with praise to Allah. A flush suffused the listener from head to foot.
“I too——” she murmured, and then stopped in great confusion. Amînah Khânum pounced on her with eager questions. Bedr-ul-Budûr knelt down before her in an ecstasy.
“Thou, too, art blest? And thou hast kept itsecret all this while?” the Princess cried. “O Bedr, go and beg the lady Fitnah to come hither instantly!”
“No, no!” entreated Barakah, distraught with shame.
“Yes, yes!” replied the other, scoffing at her. “Is this the famed false modesty of England? Praise God Most High that thou art fruitful, praise Him loudly!”
The joy of Fitnah Khânum passed all bounds. She sent a messenger at once to Yûsuf, another to the Pasha, with the tidings. The Pasha came at once to pay his compliments to Barakah. Yûsuf came later, having thought it necessary to circulate the happy news among his friends. Ghandûr, who, as the water-carrier of the apartment, sat always in the alley, underneath the lady’s lattice, was heard intoning a loud song of triumph, three parts prayer, of which each verse concluded with: “Twin boys, in sh´Allah!”
Joy-shrieks resounded; the whole household smiled; her friends thronged round her, informed of her good luck as if by miracle, for black-shrouded newsbearers were ever flitting by shadowed walls, along the edge of crowded markets, linking the great harîms in one society, and what was done in one was known in all. And Barakah alone saw any call for shame or reticence.
From that day forth she was the idol of her little world, her every want forestalled by warmsolicitude. Murjânah Khânum talked to her in a religious strain; Fitnah, more homely, prepared dainties for her; the Pasha’s sister came and told her stories. The very children talked aloud of her condition, and hailed it as a blessing to the house.
She had a good excuse for shunning the festivities which took place on the arrival of the Emperor of the French in Cairo; though her husband was employed in the reception, and all the ladies were agog to see the Empress. She wished to be entirely Oriental. Frankish talk disgusted her. Any reminder that the Europeans still existed was annoying; how much more to hear them vaunted by her Eastern friends. Yûsuf himself made fun of her fanaticism. The women humoured her conceit with knowing smiles.
Gulbeyzah and Bedr-ul-Budûr, both in the same condition, were her constant visitors. Amînah Khânum gave advice in her brusque way, and as the Englishwoman’s time drew near, did more for her protection than she knew of in her illness; impressing on Muhammad Pasha through Murjânah the necessity of calling in a Frankish doctor, and herself procuring from the Mufti the religious judgment which stilled the angry outcry of the harîm midwives.
The hour of trial came at length—an anguish worse than death, succeeded by a happiness as calm as heaven. From the cries of jubilation filling all the house, from the blessings showeredon her within the chamber, she knew that she had borne a son. She saw the blue of evening at the lattice, heard the murmur of the tired city like a voice of waters, and, lulled by vast contentment, fell asleep.