French And Oriental Love In A Harem - French and Oriental Love in a Harem Part 28
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French and Oriental Love in a Harem Part 28

I must admit that if my aunt played the minuet rather quickly, she executed the _andante_ in a very delicate style, and the _scherzo_ and the _finale_ were both dashed off in a spirited way. At the last chord, I applauded with sincere enthusiasm.

"She plays very well, doesn't she?" my uncle quietly asked me, in a modest tone. "You, who are a connoisseur--"

"Oh! she plays perfectly," I rejoined, without stinting my praise.

"And besides she puts expression into it," he resumed. "One can see that she feels what she plays."

My aunt kissed him for this compliment, which he paid her with the gravest assurance.

"Ah! you are still a flatterer!" she said to him.

As may readily be guessed, some of Strauss's waltzes and two or three polkas followed the classical symphonies, together with the overtures of "Don Giovanni" and "Fra Diavolo." It was really a perfect concert till midnight. But by that time my aunt's plump arm being somewhat tired it was necessary to bring the entertainment to a close.

Now, my dear fellow, I am not one of those who give way to the stupid prejudices of our foolish traditions; still less am I one of those who seek to evade frivolous objections, or fight shy of plain and open discussion. I have myself officially abandoned polygamy, that is true--but you are meditating another attack upon my uncle--I see it and I feel it--and from the depths of your troglodytic intellect you intend to drag out some commonplace hackneyed argument accompanied by frivolous sarcasms, and directed, not at the point in question, but all round it.

As you are even incapable of understanding your own so-called virtue in its true and primitive sense, you will no doubt repeat your usual stupid remarks, denouncing my uncle's conduct as scandalous.

Let us go straight to the moral point, without haggling over words. My uncle, who has the advantage of being a Turk, distributes himself between his two wives, like a worthy husband faithful to his duty. Do you presume to blame him? In that case what have you to say to our friends A. B. C. D. E. F. (I spare you the rest of the alphabet, and it is understood that the reader and present company are excepted), our friends, I say, who deceive their wives for the sake of hussies who have several protectors, as they are well aware? It is not a question here of fighting on behalf of the holy shrine of monogamy. With how many faithful, irreproachable husbands are you acquainted? Those hussies are mistresses, you will say to me! I know it: that is to say, they are females who belong to everybody. The question is settled: my uncle is a virtuous man by the side of our friends. As he is incapable of such vulgar and promiscuous intrigues he has a supplementary household, that is all! Like the prudent traveller who is acquainted with the length of the journey he judiciously prepares relays.

Compare that family gathering at my aunt Van Cloth's with those unhealthy stolen pleasures of debauched husbands who feel ashamed and tremble with the fear of being surprised. My uncle is a patriarch and takes no part in the licentiousness of our times. So much for this subject.

I have just received a most unforeseen blow, my dear Louis, and even while I write have scarcely recovered from the alarm of a horrible machination from which we were only saved by a miracle.

I told you about my poor Kondje-Gul's passing grief on account of her mother's foolish ideas. Reassured as to the future by my vows and promises, she was too amenable to my influence to refuse to submit to a trial which I was forced by duty to prepare her for. Proud at the thought that she was sacrificing her jealousy for me, sacrificing herself for my happiness, her tears having been dried up by my kisses, I found her the day after this cruel blow to her heart as expansive and confiding as if no cloud had darkened our sky.

But a very few days after I was quite surprised to observe a sort of melancholy resignation about her. I attributed this trouble to some of the childish worries which her mother's temper occasionally gave her.

However, after several days had passed like this, I came to the conclusion that the cause of her sadness must be something more than a transitory one, and that she was harassed by some new grief which even my presence was not sufficient to dissipate. By her replies to me, which seemed to be pervaded by more than usual tenderness, I judged that--in her fear of alarming me, no doubt,--she wished to conceal from me the real cause of her anxiety.

One evening at one of our little parties at the Montagues, which had begun as a concert, but was converted by us, in our gay and sociable mood, into a dance, Maud had trotted me off to make up a quadrille.

Kondje-Gul, who, as you know, never dances, had withdrawn into the boudoir adjoining the drawing-room, where she was looking through the albums. I suspected nothing, and was engaged in a frivolous conversation with Maud, when from where I stood, through the glass partition which separated the two rooms, I noticed Kiusko come and sit down by her side.

It was natural enough that, seeing her alone, he considered himself bound not to leave her so, for that might have looked like a want of politeness on his part. It seemed to me, moreover, from their faces, that their conversation was upon indifferent topics, and was being conducted in that tone of ordinary friendliness which was usual between them.

He was turning over the pages of an album as he talked to her. I had no reason to pay much attention to this _tete-a-tete_, and was not even intending to follow it, but once, near the end of the quadrille, my eyes being again turned by chance in Kondje-Gul's direction, I saw her rise up all of a sudden, as if something that Daniel had said had excited her suddenly. I thought I saw her blush, raising her head proudly and answering him in an offended tone.

The dance being now over, I left Maud, and, agitated by an anxious kind of feeling, walked up to the boudoir. They were standing up, and Kiusko's back being turned to the door, he did not see me enter.

Kondje-Gul saw me and said:

"Andre, come and give me your arm!"

At this unusually bold request, Daniel could not repress a gesture of astonishment, and cast a bewildered glance at me. I advanced, and she seized my arm with a convulsive movement, and addressed herself to my rival:

"This is the second time, sir, that you have declared your love to me.

Let me tell you why I decline it: I am the slave of Monsieur Andre de Peyrade, and I love him!"

If a thunderbolt had fallen at Daniel's feet, it could not have startled him more than this. He turned so pale that I thought he was going to faint. He gazed at both of us with a desperate and ferocious look, as if some terrible thought was revolving in his mind. His features were contracted into such a savage expression that I instinctively placed myself between him and Kondje-Gul. But, all at once, frightened no doubt at his own passion, he gave one glance of despair and rage, and fled from the room. Kondje-Gul was all of a tremble.

"What has happened, then?" I asked her.

"I will tell you all about it," she answered, in a voice still quivering with emotion. "I am going home with my mother. Come after us as soon as we are off."

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CHAPTER XVII.

Half an hour later I joined Kondje-Gul again at her house. She had sent Fanny out of the room, and was waiting for me. When she saw me, she threw her arm round my neck, and the long pent-up tears seemed to start from her eyes like a fountain.

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "what is it, then?"

And taking her on my knees like a child, I held her in my arms; but she soon recovered her energy.

"Listen, dear," she said in a firm voice, "you must forgive me for what I have just done: you must forgive me for having concealed my thoughts and my troubles from you, even at the risk of distressing you."

"I forgive you, everything," I answered immediately, "go on, tell me quickly."

"Well, then! For a whole week I have been deceiving you," she continued, "by telling you that I had no troubles, and that I did not know the cause of that sadness which I could not conceal from you. I was afraid of making you angry with my mother, by confessing to you that it was she who was tormenting me."

"Your mother!" I exclaimed: "and what had she to say to you, then?"

"You shall hear all," she said, with animation, "for I must justify myself for having kept a secret from you. I daresay you remember," she continued, "that a fortnight ago she spoke to me about your marriage, telling me that you were going to leave me."

"Yes, yes, I understand," I said. "What then?"

"My mother had made me promise to keep this revelation a secret, because it was necessary, so she said, that Count Kiusko should not suspect that we loved each other. She said that he had expressly attributed my refusal to become his wife to some hope which I doubtless entertained of marrying you."

"Well, go on; tell me what has occurred since."

"You know the state of trouble you found me in that night. I could not hold back my tears, and you commanded me to tell you all. At last you reassured me with so much warmth of feeling, that after that I did not believe anyone but you. Quite happy at the thought of sacrificing myself to your will, and to your peace of mind, I left off thinking about my alarms, and regretted them as an insult to our love; I repeated to my mother all your kind promises, and thought that I had set her mind at rest. Imagine my astonishment at hearing her, a few days afterwards, return to the subject: she had seen the count again, who had declared that your uncle would disinherit you if you did not carry out his wishes."

"And did you believe all that?"

"No," she replied promptly, "for you had not told me so! But then my mother, seeing that I would only believe you, changed her tactics: she spoke about Count Kiusko, his wealth, and his love for me."

"She did that, did she?"

"Oh, forgive her!" she continued; "she gets anxious both on my account and her own. She is alarmed about the future, and fancies she sees me deserted by you! Well, it was simply a cruel struggle for me, in which my heart could not betray you. I suffered through it, and that's all!

But three days ago, I don't know what can have passed during your aunt's party, my mother, on our way home, said to me in a decided manner that she had resolved 'to live no longer among the infidels,' and intended 'to return to the land of the Faithful, in order to expiate the great wrong she had committed by living here.'

"I was dismayed at this resolution of hers. As she based it upon our faith, I could not oppose her, for that would have been a sacrilege, but I could at least invoke her affection for me, and entreat her not to leave. Then, while I was on my knees before her, and was kissing her and crying, she startled me by saying: 'You shall not leave me; for, when I go, I shall take you away with me'!"

"Why, she must be crazy!" I exclaimed.

"Well, dear," added Kondje-Gul, "you can easily understand what a thunderbolt this was to me! I felt it so painfully that I nearly swooned away. My mother was alarmed and called for Fanny. The next day, I attempted to prevail upon her to change her mind, declaring that it would kill me to be separated from you. I thought I had mollified her, for she kissed me and said that all she cared about was my happiness.