第 18 页

The "Rights of Woman" have clearly been divulged to them. They talk of walking out by themselves, of visiting the popular theatres and music-halls, and even Mabille, the illuminations of which struck their fancy very much the other night, as we were passing the Avenue Montaigne in the carriage, on our way back from the Bois. One little instance will illustrate the situation for you. Mohammed's rank and titles have ceased to impress them with any respect; and the day before yesterday Zouhra actually had the impudence to say "Chut!" to him.

This expression will clearly indicate to you an astonishing progress in the refinements of our language; but it will also, no doubt, afford you a text upon which to declaim in that cruelly sarcastic style which your Philistine genius revels in. I will, therefore, anticipate you by replying:

In the first place, that Mohammed does not understand French—a fact which considerably diminishes the gravity of Zouhra's disrespect;

In the second, that I never doubted but what their stay in Paris would open my houris' minds to new ideas;

And in the third, that neither did I doubt but what they would acquire, in consequence, more precise notions upon the extent of their rights.

Woman, like any other animal susceptible of education, possesses the most subtle faculties of imitation. Now if, her weak nature being overcome by those impulses towards mischief and malice with which she is peculiarly endowed, she is tempted to commit trivial derelictions of conduct—derelictions which, after all, are but faults of discernment—is there any reason why we should make such a fuss about it—

In the midst of the supremely refined existence which my sultanas lead, I seem to discover in these innocent little vagaries a frank simplicity of character, more nearly related to purity of conscience than are the accomplished manners of our most polished coquettes.

While on this subject I must reply to the sarcasms contained in your last letter.

Let me tell you first of all that I have never laid claim to the character of a superior being inaccessible to human vanities, as you are trying to make out. I am quite willing to admit with you that I, like any other man, am possessed by "the stupid satisfaction which every man experiences in watching the success of the woman he loves." It is quite possible that the effect produced by my odalisques upon the idle crowd (or as you term it la haute badauderie) of Paris, has suddenly invested them with new charms in my eyes. You say that the mystery with which they are enshrouded, and the silly conjectures which I hear people make about them as they pass by, have excited me and turned my head like that of a simpleton.

Well, I suppose you will hardly expect me to account for the human weakness which leads us to measure our own happiness by the degree of envy which it excites in others— Besides, what is the good of sifting my passion or testing my love in a crucible in order to estimate its value—

In the midst of my pagan indulgences, you ask me if I really love, in the usual sense of that word. This very reasonable question was at any rate worth asking, however simple it may seem. It is concerned with the great problem in psychology which I undertook to solve, namely, as to which predominates in love, the heart or the senses, and whether true love is possible when one loves four women at the same time—

It is clear that in the restricted limits of our ideas, and under the yoke of our customs and prejudices, we can only conceive of passion as concentrated upon a single object. Too far removed from our primitive origin and from the patriarchal age, and moulded by the influences of more refined customs, our minds have been stimulated to the contemplation of a certain recognized ideal. Still, as moralists and philosophers, we must admit that among Orientals there is, doubtless, another conception and another ideal of love, the character of which we cannot grasp. It is only by divesting ourselves of our moral clogs, or the restraints of our social conventionalities, that we can attain to the understanding of this lofty psychological problem. Indeed, no one has ever been able to say what love consists in. "Attraction of two hearts," say some, and "mutual exchange of fancies;" but these are nothing but words depending upon the particular instance in which they are employed.

The truth is that we are full of inconsistencies in all our definitions. From a purely sentimental point of view, we start by laying down, as an absolute axiom, that the human heart can only embrace one object of love, and that man can only fall truly in love once in his life. Yet if we abstract from love the distinct element which our senses contribute to it, it is seen to consist of nothing but a form of affection—an expansion of the soul analogous to friendship and to paternal or filial love, sentiments equally powerful, but which we recognize the duty of distributing between several objects.

Whence arises this strange contradiction—

Do not declare that it is a paradox, for our ideas on the subject proceed entirely from our education and from the influence of custom upon our minds. If we had been bred on the banks of the Ganges, of the Nile, or of the Hellespont, our school of æsthetics would have been different. The most romantic Turkish or Persian poet could not understand the vain subtleties of our emotions. Since his laws permit him several wives, it is his duty to love them all, and his heart rises to the occasion. Do you mean to tell me that his is a different love to ours— Upon what grounds— What do you know about it— Cannot you understand the charms of the obligation he is under to protect them all, in this equal distribution of his affections— It comes to this, in fact, that our ideas on the point are simply and always a question of latitude and of climate. We love like poor helpless creatures of circumstances.

It is these very psychological considerations which form the basis of the social argument which I intend to demonstrate in the important work which I am preparing for the Academy of Science, and which I introduce as follows:—

"Revered Mother,

"Among the learned and celebrated members of whom your illustrious Society so justly boasts, the most competent have already determined to their satisfaction the general principles which should regulate the study of biology. It would be the height of presumption on my part to set up my unworthy opinion against theirs, were it not for the fact that I can adduce, as a justification for doing so, certain data in my own possession which very few, probably, of these highly-respected authorities could have procured under such favourable conditions as I have been enabled to do. As the nephew of a Pasha I have, &c."

As you perceive, this modest preface is well calculated to soothe the delicate susceptibilities of the Institute.

The civilization of my Kondjé-Gul has become quite the most delightful subject of study for me. It presents a complete romance in itself, and the denial which I have imposed upon myself adds a certain charm to it. I must tell you that her stay with Madame Montier has gradually produced a number of unforeseen complications. Commodore Montague has returned; one of the consequences of which is that the intimacy between the Misses Maud and Suzannah Montague and the ward of worthy Omer-Rashid-Effendi, which has seemed to him a most desirable one, has been so much encouraged that they have become inseparable, and Kondjé-Gul has of course been invited by her young friends to entertainments given by their father—invitations which she has been unable to decline for fear, thereby, of arousing suspicions.

Discretion on my part, you will thus perceive, has become more than ever necessary, so long as Kondjé-Gul remains with Madame Montier. Our amorous relations are absolutely reduced to epistolary effusions, and to clandestine meetings, to bring about which we have recourse to all the stratagems employed by separated lovers. There is a certain piquancy in these adventures which affords us much delight—so true is it that the deprivation of a pleasure enhances its value. In the morning Kondjé-Gul takes riding-lessons in the Bois with Maud and Suzannah, who are accompanied by their father. I sometimes take a canter that way, in order to watch their party ride by. She looks charming in her riding-habit, and the Montague girls are really very pretty, especially Maud, who has a pert little playful expression which is very fascinating.

I forgot to tell you that Kondjé-Gul's mother, Murrah-Hanum, has arrived. She is a woman of forty-five, tall, with a distinguished bearing, and rather handsome still. Yet although she has been Europeanized by her residence at the French consul's at Smyrna, and speaks our language almost with fluency, she retains in her manners all the peculiarities of the Circassian and the Asiatic; she has an easy-going and indolent temperament, and in her large dark eyes you can read the stern resignation of the fatalist races. When she appeared before me, she lavished upon me, in Oriental fashion, the most ardent expressions of devotion. I assured her of my desire to secure to her a share in all the advantages which I wished to confer upon Kondjé-Gul. She expressed her gratitude with calmness and dignity, and swore to observe towards me the submissive obedience which she owed to her daughter's husband. In short, you can picture the interview for yourself; it was characterized by all the florid effusiveness of Mahommedan greetings.

CHAPTER X.

I don't suppose you will be astonished at a curious encounter which has just taken place.

I must tell you that in my uncle's character while in Paris, Barbassou-Pasha, General in the Turkish cavalry, predominates over Captain Barbassou the sailor. He takes a ride every morning, and I of course accompany him. These are our occasions both for intimate talks and for discussing serious questions; and I beg you to understand that my uncle's notions upon the latter are by no means ordinary ones. He adorns such questions with quite original views—views which are certainly not the property of any other mortal known or likely to be known in this world below. He starts a subject for me, and I give him the cue as well as I can. I know of nothing more instructive than to follow his lines of argument—he has a separate one for each subject—upon different departments of private and political life, judged from his own standpoint. As a legislator I fancy he would commit radical mistakes; but as a philosopher, I doubt very much if a match could be found for him, for I don't think that his methods can be compared with those of any existing school of thought.

The other morning we went to the forest of Mendon; my uncle, as a lover of the picturesque, considers that the Bois de Boulogne, with its lake, looks as if it had been taken out of a box of German toys. We arrived at Villebon, a sort of farm situated in the middle of the forest, with a few fields attached to it. There is a restaurant there, which is much frequented on Sundays during the summer.

My uncle, enchanted with the place, wanted to stop and take his glass of madeira there. So, leaving our horses in charge of a stable-boy, we went into one of the rooms. At a table at the further end, quite a stylish-looking woman, who looked as if she were out with somebody on the spree, was sitting by herself, finishing a liqueur-ice, with her hat off and lying by her side. Her figure, as viewed from the back, was exquisite, with graceful and well-set shoulders, an elegantly poised neck with a lovely little dimple on the nape, crowned by a luxuriant chignon, from which emerged a profusion of rebellious tresses——.

"Waiter! Madeira, please!" shouted my uncle in his formidable bass voice.

At this unexpected explosion, the strange lady jumped up from her chair and looked suddenly round. But directly she saw the captain, she screamed out and fainted away all at once.

I must do my uncle the justice of admitting that when he noticed the remarkable effect he had produced, he exhibited a slight gesture of surprise; which, however, soon passed off. Without calling any help, in four strides he reached the lady's side, and supported her against the table, raising up her pretty head which had fallen back, and slapping her hands. Then, having satisfied himself that she had completely lost consciousness, he began without any more ado to unfasten her dress, tore open her collar, and, with admirable dexterity, unhooked the upper part of her stays—thereby revealing to our gaze two charming globes, imprisoned in lace.

This spectacle, I avow, might have made any other man pause in his zealous operations,—not so my uncle, however; he did not think twice about it, but with his usual unconcerned air proceeded to open out the fair one's stays, then took up the water-bottle, and emptied it with one dash into the hollow between her rounded charms.

A convulsive start, and another scream, indicated immediately the successful effect of this triumphant measure.

"There!" he said to me, "you see that's all that was needed."

Just at this moment the gentleman who belonged to the lady came in. It is hardly necessary to add that when he saw my uncle occupied upon a business so distinctly his own, the new-comer evinced some temper.

"Bon Dieu!" he shouted out as he rushed forward, "What's the meaning of this— What's the meaning of this—"

"Nothing serious!" answered the pasha. "Your lady has simply been in a swoon, nothing more; it's all over now!"

"But what have you been about, sir— What do you mean by throwing water like that, right upon people's bosoms——"

"It was all to do you a service," replied this saviour, quite composedly.

The lady, for her part, looked as if she was going off in another fit, but my uncle, judging no doubt that he had fulfilled his part of the duties, and without troubling himself any further about the mingled alarms and stares of the people of the house who came up, made one of his ceremonious bows to the whole company, and took me away with him, saying,

"Come, let us drink our madeira."

So we went out.

Being accustomed to Barbassou-Pasha's ways, I was certainly not surprised at such a trifle as this. The waiter having served us, ten minutes had elapsed, and while we were discussing the irreparable loss of the Xerez and Douro vines, all of a sudden the door opened. It was the lady's cavalier, and he came in raging like a storm.

"Bagasse!" he exclaimed with a furious look, and his hair bristling up like a porcupine. "But you won't get off quite so easily as that, sir! Who ever heard of such a thing— Undressing a defenceless woman like that, and quite a stranger too!! Not to mention that you have spoilt her dress, which looks as if she had been under the pump!"