第 17 页

"Are you quite sure that you would not lose by the change—"

"Thank you," said Kondjé-Gul; "that's what I call a compliment."

"The fact is," I replied, "the very thing I like about you is that you do not in any way resemble the women whom we have just met."

"Oh!" she said, with an indescribable gesture of pride, "it's not those women I envy! But I see others whom I would like to resemble—in their manners and tone, of course. If you're a nice fellow, do you know what you will do for me—"

"What—"

"It's a dream, a scheme which I have been continually thinking over. You won't laugh at me, will you—"

"No. Let's hear your grand scheme."

"Well, then, if you would like to make me very happy, place me for a few months in one of those convents where your young ladies are educated. You would come and see me every day, so that I should not be too dull away from you."

"That's the queerest idea I have ever heard from you; fancy a Mahommedan girl at a convent!" I said, with a laugh.

I took a great deal of trouble in explaining to her what a foolish project this was; but the result of my attempts at demonstrating the serious obstacles which such ambitious aspirations would encounter, was that in the end I myself entered into her views. The experiment might indeed prove a most instructive one. With Kondjé-Gul's character, there was an extremely interesting psychological experiment before me. I had found her to be endowed with marvellous natural qualities. With her ardour and enthusiasm, what would be the effect upon her simple imagination of a sudden transition from the ideas of the harem to the subtle refinements of our own society—

Certainly, I was obliged to admit that such a trial was not without its dangers; but then, was not Kondjé-Gul already aware that the marital yoke which my houris still believed in was only imaginary— And was it not better, such being the case, for me to complete this work of regeneration, the fruits of which I should in the end reap for myself—

So I submitted to Kondjé-Gul's wishes, and as soon as we returned to Paris this important matter was settled.

The next day I began to look for the means of carrying it into execution, a search which was attended, however, with a good many difficulties.

CHAPTER IX.

My uncle is going to send for another of my aunts to come to Paris.

Well! what of that——My uncle is a Mussulman, you know; and, being a man of principle, his duties are more onerous than yours, that's all!

My services were required to take a little house at Passy, where she is to live. I wonder whether it is my aunt Gretchen, my aunt Euphrosine, or my aunt Cora— He has not given me the slightest hint on this point.

While awaiting this addition to our family, Barbassou-Pasha pursues his eccentric career in a manner that beats description. This visit to Paris has brought out more than ever the quaint independence of his character. One is reminded of a man who stands on a bridge watching the river flow by, but now and then takes a header into it to cool himself. The other day at the club, he lost sixty-three thousand francs to me at baccarat, just for a little distraction. The evening after, he was entertaining at our house his late Lieutenant Rabassu, whom he always speaks of as "the cause of his death," and who has come here upon some business. He won eleven francs from him at piquet, playing for a franc the hundred points. For the moment I felt quite alarmed for the poor victim! But my mind was soon set at ease; for Rabassu, who is used to his captain's play, knows how to cheat as cleverly as his master. Their losses soon balanced each other.

Putting aside little dissipations of this kind, I should add that "the late Barbassou" is really very steady-going for a man of his temperament. He takes everything which comes in the routine of our fashionable life so naturally, that nobody would imagine he had spent several years at the hulks in Turkey.

My aunt Eudoxia, of whom he stands in wholesome awe, and who keeps him in check, forces him to cultivate the vanities of this world. He escorts her to balls and fêtes with all that ceremony with which you are familiar; and quitting the lofty regions of his own philosophical existence, without however permitting anything to disturb his self-possession, he goes forth into the gay and hurried throngs of Paris with as little concern as he would into any village street. In short, he is in exquisite form, and—but for the legal disabilities which deprive him of his rights of citizenship—you would find him still exactly what he was when you knew him five years ago.

However, the other day he received a little shock in connection with a very simple incident, which might have been perfectly anticipated.

We were in my aunt's box at the Opera. The pasha, seated by her side, was listening to a singer who was rather more buxom than elegant; and he appeared to be calculating what her nett weight would be, after making deduction for her queen's crown and robes of state. After a minute or so, he seemed to have solved this equation and lost all further interest in the problem, for he began to examine the audience. All of a sudden he shouted out, quite forgetting himself, in his Provençal brogue:

"Té! What's that I see—"

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

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

It was indeed Mohammed, who attracted some attention as he walked with my houris into their famous box.

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

You may be sure my uncle put up his glasses. When all my people were settled down in their box, he surveyed them carefully, interrupting his examination occasionally in order to take a furtive scowl at me. But my aunt's presence kept him quiet. His composure was perfect for that matter, except that he seemed extremely puzzled. There were only three of them—that evidently was not the right number for him. As for me, prudence dictated that I should get out of the way as quickly as possible, leaving him to make what observations he pleased.

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

"Are you going to speak to him—"

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

But slam went the door, and I was out in the passage, whence I escaped to the back of the scenes and to the green-room. There he joined me during the entr'acte. But, as you are aware, "Turks do not discuss harem matters." All I could see clearly was that he was in a fury with me.

To turn, however, to other things, my perseverance on behalf of Kondjé-Gul is at last rewarded with complete success.

After I had spent a whole week in looking about, I found, in the Beaujou district, an institution for young ladies presided over by a Madame Montier, a kind woman of polished manners. She had suffered a reverse of fortune, which seems to have prepared her for the express purpose of civilizing my Kondjé-Gul. There are never more than three or four boarders in the house: at the present moment two American girls, daughters of a commodore who is on a mission to the King of Siam, are finishing their education there. Nothing could suit my purpose better.

When the time arrived, however, for putting my plan into execution, I must confess that I could not help feeling considerable embarrassment. I could certainly have introduced Kondjé-Gul as a young foreign lady, prematurely widowed, who was anxious to qualify herself for French society; but I soon found that this would create an unnecessary complication. Decidedly the better course would be for Mahommed to introduce her either as his ward or his daughter. Under any circumstances it was desirable that I should explain to her the necessity of extreme prudence.

At last, one evening, when I thought she was about to revert to this great object of her ambition, I started the subject myself.

"I am going to announce an important piece of news," I said to her; "I have found a convent for you where you can stay pending your mother's arrival."

"Really!" she exclaimed, kissing me. "Oh, my dear André, how kind you are!"

"Yes; but I must warn you. This realisation of your dream is only possible at the cost of sacrifices, which will perhaps be hard for you to make."

"What sacrifices— Tell me, quick!"

"First, assiduous work, and next, the sacrifice of your liberty; for during the whole time you remain at this establishment, you won't be able to leave the place."

"What does that matter—" she exclaimed, "provided I can see you every day!"

"But that's exactly what will be impossible."

"Why—" she asked, in her simplicity.

"Because, according to our customs, bachelors are never admitted into young ladies' schools," I replied, with a laugh.

"But as I belong to you," she continued, with an astonished look, "they will not be surprised at your coming; are not you my master—"

"This reason, my dear, although a convincing one for you, would constitute the greatest obstacle; for they must not be allowed on any account to suspect that you are my wife. Mohammed alone will introduce you either as his daughter or as a young lady under his charge, and, for conventional reasons, which you will understand later on, this period of study will be a period of separation for us."

I then let her know the whole truth about certain of our social conventionalities, concerning which she was still in ignorance. When she learned that our laws declared her free, and the equal of any Frenchwoman, and that I had no longer any rights over her, she looked inexpressibly pained.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, throwing herself into my arms, "what do you mean— Am I free, and my own mistress, and not yours for ever—"

"You are mine, because I love you," I said to her very quickly, seeing her agitation; "and so long as you do not want to leave me—"

"Leave you! But what would become of me, then, without you—"

And her eyes filled with tears.

"What a foolish girl you are!" I replied, quite touched at her evident pain; "you are exaggerating the significance of my words: your liberty will make no difference in our relations."

"Why did you tell me this cruel truth, then— I was so happy in the belief that I was your slave, and in obeying and loving you at the same time."

"Still it was necessary for me to tell you, as you wish to learn our ideas and customs. Your ignorance was a source of danger, for even your questions might lead to the betrayal of relations which must remain a mystery for the rest of the world, and, above all, in the 'pension,' where you are about to live with companions."

I had some difficulty in consoling her for this terrible discovery that our laws do not recognise slavery. Nevertheless, her desire for further instruction remained very keen.

Finally, two days afterwards, Mademoiselle Kondjé-Gul entered Madame Montier's institution, having been presented by her guardian, the worthy Omer-Rashid-Effendi, who made all the necessary arrangements with the majestic dignity which he displays on every occasion.

Although I have kept myself carefully in the background in all this matter, I watch its progress just the same, and superintend everything. Every evening Kondjé-Gul writes to her guardian, and I get her letters at once: I can assure you they constitute quite an interesting romance. For a whole week Kondjé-Gul, who had been rather overawed at first and astonished at all her new surroundings, seemed to live like one dazed. She would not trust herself to speak, fearing to appear uncultivated; but she observed, and the results of her observations were most curious. After that I perceived that she was gradually trying her wings; for when she had been initiated a few days into her new life, she soon abandoned her reserve, and has by this time passed the first step in her emancipation. Her simplicity of character, and her quaint Oriental manners, have secured her some very cordial friendships; and nothing can be more charming than the accounts she gives me of her devotion for her friends, Maud and Suzannah Montague, who are the realisation of perfection in her eyes.

Of course Kondjé-Gul's educational programme, as fixed by me, is confined within very modest limits. It consists of music, history, and a slight and general acquaintance with literature. But above all she is expected to acquire that indispensable familiarity with our ideas, and those feminine graces and refinements which can only be learnt by contact with women and girls brought up in good society. A few months at Madame Montier's will be sufficient for this purpose, and the cultivation of her mind can be completed later on by private lessons.

My harem in the Faubourg St. Germain retains its Oriental aspect; it is a corner of the world described in the "Arabian Nights," where I indulge from time to time, in the midst of Paris, in the distractions of a vizier of Samarcand or Bagdad. There, when the shutters are closed, in my gynæceum (or women's apartment), illuminated by lamps which shed a soft lustre upon us, while the bluish-grey smoke from my narguilé perfumes the atmosphere, my houris lull me to sleep to the music of their taraboucks.

With all this I am not quite so satisfied, as I would have liked to describe myself, with certain incidents which have occurred in connection with my harem. Certainly, they are all the natural consequences of our life in Paris; for I don't suppose you imagine that I had not foreseen the psychological effect which entirely new ideas would unavoidably produce upon the profoundly ignorant minds of my houris. Besides, a progressive and judicious emancipation from their previous restraints formed part of my programme for them. But the introduction into the harem of certain high-class lady's-maids, indispensable for initiating my little animals into the subtle mysteries of Parisian toilets, has of necessity led to their making a number of discoveries, which have contributed in a remarkable degree to their civilization:—hardly, however, in those elements which I could have most desired. They have all of them got to know a great deal more than was necessary for them about those famous "customs of our harems in France," the principles of which I had endeavoured to teach them. Thus I even noticed the other day that I set Zouhra and Nazli laughing when I reminded them of some point of etiquette. Although they are still imbued with the good principles of their native education, it is evident they are being corrupted by the poison of Liberalism. This I am convinced of by certain airs of assurance which they have put on, by their coquetries, and by novel and unexpected caprices which they now display.