Mohammed, like a wise man, had foreseen that I should stay at the Kasre.
The dinner this time was served in the French style. He did not sit down
with us as he had done the day before; I had no longer need of him, and
he returned to the obscure position which he was henceforth to occupy
during my visits. I sat down to table, therefore, with my houris; and
this meal, in which everything was new to them, became a veritable
feast. They nibbled and tasted a bit of everything with exclamations of
surprise, with careful investigations, and with little gourmandish airs
of inexpressible charm. I should tell you that my cook only won their
unanimous approbation at dessert, when they commenced to make a sort of
second dinner of sweets and cakes, creams and fruit. The champagne
pleased them above all things, and would have ended by turning their
little heads, but for my careful attention. Whilst they vied with each
other in merriment and gay prattle, I was thinking of that oriental meal
of the night before in which I had seated myself by them in the reserved
attitude of a stranger. What a dream fulfilled! What fairy's wand had
produced this magical effect? I tell you it was a regular transformation
scene. At dessert Hadidjé bent her head down to me with a mischievous
look, and laughed as she spoke some Turkish word.
"Sana yanarim!" I replied, emphasizing the sentence with a kiss on her
hand. I had learnt from Kondjé-Gul that it means "I love you," or more
literally, "I am burning for you."
You may guess how successful this was, and with what shouts of joy it
was received. Of course there followed a little make-believe scene of
jealousy on the part of the others.
"Kianet! ah, Kianet!" they repeated, laughing, and threatening me with
uplifted fingers. This expression signifies "ungrateful."
When evening arrived I took them into the park to calm the warmth of
their emotions down a little. It was a splendid moonlight night, and the
long black shadows of the trees stretched over the walk. As we passed
these dark places the timid creatures pressed close about me.
Ah! well, you don't expect me, I suppose, to tell you how this day was
concluded? Affairs of the harem, my dear fellow!--affairs of the harem!
As to my other news, I hardly need tell you that nobody in this
neighbourhood has a suspicion of the secrets of El-Nouzha. In my
external life I conform to all the social requirements of my position. I
visit my uncle's old friends, Féraudet the notary, and the good old
vicar, who calls me the Providence of the place. Once a week I dine with
the doctor, Morand; who has a son, George Morand, an officer in the
Spahis, on leave for the present at Férouzat; and an orphan niece, a
young lady of nineteen, lively and sympathetic. She is engaged to her
cousin the captain, who is a regular Africain, a fire-eater you may
call him, but a good fellow in the full sense of that word--one of those
open natures made for devotion, like a Newfoundland dog, or a poodle. He
is both formidable and patient. Such is my friend! We were playmates as
children, and he would not brook the slightest insult to me in his
presence. He wonders very much at my anchorite's life, and in order to
divert me from it, endeavours to draw me into the hidden current of
rustic gallantries which he indulges in while awaiting the day of Hymen.