There is no subject in regard to her, not even her receptive intelligence, which fails to afford me innumerable surprises. Sometimes I discover original views and opinions of hers upon matters connected with our European civilisation, at the correctness of which I am absolutely amazed. Her progress is surprising, and she wishes to learn everything, knowing how much is required in order to become "civilised,"
as she calls it.
My uncle and my aunt are in Paris.
A month without any news, you say. And you talk sarcastically about my leisure, and rally me upon the subject of that famous system, which I used to boast was a simplification of life. If I might judge from your twaddle, you imagine me to be saddled with the very cares and worries from which I justly boasted that I was exempt. You picture me running backwards and forwards, and incessantly occupied with my four wives, so that I have not even time to write to you.
Absurd fancy: this is my real situation.
As soon as my four wives were settled down in their new home, they permitted me much more freedom than did the least burdensome of my former amours. No anxieties now, no jealousies, no fears for the future.
They are not like some of those feminine taskmasters who take entire possession of you, forcing you to follow the adored object to the theatre, or take it to the ball, in order to have the pleasure of watching it flirting bare-shouldered with some intimate friend, who will perhaps be its next lover. No, in my _role_ of sultan my amours are modestly hidden from profane eyes in the recesses of my harem, and there I am always welcome whenever I choose to come. I keep the key in my pocket. At any hour of the day or night I can go there in my quality of owner without having to leave my club, my friends, my work, or my amusements a moment earlier than I desire.
Such, then, is the "anxious existence" which you attribute to me. Find me a husband who can act in the same way.
Still, as might have been foreseen, great changes have taken place in the internal arrangements of my household, where it became necessary that the Turkish elements should be partially replaced by others more adapted to the exigencies of western civilization.
A memorable event has occurred.
Hadidje, Nazli, and Zouhra went the other day to the opera. It is needless to say that I was there. I must admit that their nervousness was so extreme at making this bold experiment that, watching them from my own stall as they came in, I thought for a moment that they were going to run away again.
Already in their walks they were getting into training, and in regard to their veils exhibited a certain amount of coquetry; but now it became necessary to disregard the law of Mahomet entirely. They had never seen the inside of a theatre before, so you can imagine that when they found themselves in the box, with their unveiled faces exposed to the gaze of a multitude of infidel eyes, all the bold resolutions which they had made for this decisive effort were put to the rout. Strange as such Mohammedan bashfulness may seem to us, they felt, as they afterwards told me, that appearing there unveiled, was "just like exhibiting themselves naked."
However, as soon as this first impression was overcome, thanks chiefly to the exhortations of Mohammed, who was almost at his wits' ends to manage them, they succeeded in putting on sufficient assurance to dissemble their very sincere dread, so that at a distance it looked merely like excessive shyness. The lifting of the curtain for the first act of "Don Juan" fortunately changed the current of their emotions.
During the _entr'acte_ their box became the object of attraction to the subscribers and the frequenters of first night's performances. Their indolent, oriental type of beauty, notwithstanding the partial disguise effected by their present costumes, could not fail to produce a sensation.
Who, it was asked, was this old gentleman with his three daughters of such surprising beauty? In the Jockey Club's box, where I went to hear the gossip, everyone was talking about them, as of some important political event; Mohammed was an American millionaire, according to some, a Russian prince, or a Rajah just arrived from India, according to others. When I smiled in a significant manner (as I began to do, on purpose), they immediately surmised that I fancied I knew more about the matter than the rest of them, thereupon they surrounded me, and pressed me with questions.
I had already come to the conclusion that it would be better to calm their minds, and thus avoid all inconvenient enquiries. I therefore gave them an account, which after all was not far from the truth, namely, that Omer-Rashid-Effendi was a rich Turk, "whose acquaintance I had the honour of making at Damascus, and who had come to stay at Paris with his family." I thus insured myself against any suspicion of mystery arising in connection with my visits to the house in the Rue de Monsieur, in the event of these coming to light by any chance.
Our relations, you will see, were thus defined once for all. This new life is nothing but a succession of delights to my almees; and I have really now attained the ideal in the way of harems, through the absence of that monotony which is the inevitable result of the system of rigid seclusion. Under the influence of our civilized surroundings, the ideas of my houris are undergoing a gradual transformation. They have French lady's maids, and their study of our refinements of fashion has opened out quite a new world of coquettish charms to them. My "little animals"
have grown into women: this single word will convey to you the whole delicious significance of this story of mine, the secret of which you alone in the whole world possess.
As we had decided, Kondje-Gul has been separated from her over-jealous companions. Hadidje, Zouhra, and Nazli have taken this measure to be a confirmation of her disgrace, and knowing that she lives in a sequestered corner of the house, they fancy their triumph more assumed than ever. I can place implicit confidence in the discretion of my servants--who wait on us like mutes in a seraglio: consequently Kondje-Gul and I are as free as possible. When I want to go out with her, I pay a short visit to my wives, and after a quarter of an hour's talk, leave them and go off in my carriage, in the recesses of which my darling reclines. Now you see what a simple device it is and how ingenious; still it involves a certain amount of constraint for me, and an isolation hard to endure for Kondje-Gul. She reads and devours everything that I bring her in the way of books; but the days are long, and Mohammed, with his time taken up by the others, cannot accompany her out of doors. I therefore conceived the idea of taking her away from the harem altogether, and thus relieving her of the contemptuous insults which my other silly women still find opportunities of inflicting upon her. The difficulty was to procure a chaperon for her, some kind of suitable and reliable duenna whom I could leave with her in a separate establishment; this duenna has been found.
The other day Kondje-Gul and I were talking together about a little house which I had discovered in the upper part of the Champs Elysees, and of an English governess, who seemed to me to possess the right qualifications for a pretended mother:
"If you like," said Kondje-Gul, "I can tell you a much simpler arrangement."
"Well?" I replied.
"Instead of this governess whom I don't know, I would much rather have my mother. I should be so happy at seeing her again!"
"Your mother?" I exclaimed with surprise; "do you know where she is then?"
"Oh, yes! for I often write to her."
She then told me all her past history, which I had never before thought of asking her, believing that she had been left alone in the world. It afforded me a complete revelation of those Turkish customs which seem so strange to us. Kondje-Gul's mother, as I have told you, was a Circassian, who came to Constantinople to enter the service of a cadine of the Sultan. Kondje-Gul being a very pretty child, her mother had, in her ambitious fancy, anticipated from her beauty a brilliant career for her. In order to realise this expectation, she left her at twelve years old with a family who were instructed to bring her up better than she could have done herself, until Kondje-Gul was old enough to be sought after as a cadine or a wife.
This hope on the part of her mother was accomplished, as you know, for the girl was purchased for a good round sum by Mohammed. Thus poor Kondje-Gul fulfilled her destiny. Then she related to me how her mother, several years ago, had found a better situation for herself with a French consul at Smyrna, and had learnt French there.
Kondje-Gul's idea was a happy one, and I was inclined to entertain it. I consented to her writing to Smyrna, and some days later she received an answer to the effect that in about a couple of months her mother would be able to join her providing the requisite means were sent her for this purpose. I have a house in view where they can live together. It is a little house belonging to Count de Teral, who is on his way back to Lisbon: one might really fancy he had got it ready on purpose for me.
What have you to say to this, you profound moralist?
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CHAPTER VIII.
Again you complain of my silence, in a letter written with the object of overwhelming me with abuse; and you mix up sarcasms (through which your childish curiosity is very transparent) with philosophical remarks which reveal the snobbishness of your nature. In fact, from the tone of your letters, one might imagine I was threatened by strange complications, and that you were hoping every morning to read the account of some catastrophe. For once in a way your longing for an important event will not be disappointed, for I have a weighty piece of news for you. As it belongs to the most strictly moral order of events, you may listen without any anxiety.
As you are aware, my aunt and uncle came to Paris a fortnight ago, and will stay here all the winter. The house in the Rue de Varennes has resumed its gay honours; we give receptions, dinners, and everything else that you are familiar with, but embellished this time by the presence of the charming Countess of Monteclaro, who supplies that lively element of family life which we rather missed formerly. My aunt has discovered here a young cousin of hers, Count Daniel Kiusko, a capital fellow, whom I have quite made friends with.
Having given you these details, I will now proceed with my story.
The other morning, after breakfast, as I was about to return to my room (for whatever you may believe, I am working hard just now), my uncle stopped me, and without any further preliminaries began:
"By the way, Andre, I expect Madame Saulnier and my god-daughter Anna Campbell, your betrothed, to dinner this, evening. I should not mind letting you make her acquaintance. If you happen to be curious to see her, don't make any engagements at the club, and come home punctually."
"Really!" exclaimed my aunt with a laugh, and without giving me time to answer: "from the way you put it, one might think you were talking of some doll that you intended to offer Andre for his birthday!"
"What the deuce do you mean by that, my dear?" asked the captain in his imperturbable way.
"I mean," said my aunt, "that this little acquaintance which you wish they should make with each other before you marry them, seems to me a very necessary preliminary."
"Pooh! They've still a good year before them! Besides, this little matter has nothing to do with romance." Then turning to me he continued; "Well, if that suits you for to-day, I have given you notice."
"Capital!" added my aunt. "Well, Andre! How does it suit you?"
"Why, aunt," I said, laughing in my turn at their little dispute; "I think my uncle may rely equally with you upon the pleasure it will give me."
"All right, that's settled!" continued my aunt in an inimitable tone of hilarity; "at seven o'clock punctually, my dear nephew, you will come and fall in love."
My uncle took no more notice of this last ironical shaft than of the rest, but occupied himself with selecting a cigar, remarking that what he had were too dry. My aunt availed herself of the opportunity of continuing her conversation with me.
"Between you and me," she said, "I may tell you that you are not much to be pitied, for she is a charming girl, and you would really lose a good deal by not making her acquaintance."
"I was only waiting for my uncle to decide the question."
"You must at any rate be grateful to him for letting you meet _by chance_ before your wedding-day," she continued.
"Oh, dear! one might think I wanted to marry them at a minute's notice!"
said my uncle at these words. "Just like a woman's exaggerations!
Perhaps you would have liked me to have introduced her to him before my last voyage, when she was a lass of fourteen, thin, awkward, and gawkish, as you all are at that age."