will own that I was struck with surprise and wonder. A robe of gold lama gauze, open in front, was cut in three lappets of equal length, the one in the middle of the back forming a train, the two others crossing each other and caught up at the waist. My sash alone defined my figure. Under this robe very large pantalets of white silk fell over my ankles, half covering my slippers, which were embroidered with pearls. But, more than all, my eyes amazed me, for a line of kohl increased them to an immense size. These wonderful eyes made the red of my lips intense. Shall I own, Martha, that for a moment of unspeakable pride I found myself nearly pretty? My entrance into the harem caused a lively sensation. I remembered my father's instructions and went to pay my respects to the Great Lady, who lisped a few words without rising from her cushions. The others all crowded round me, for you can readily imagine I was a curiosity. I think their character is simply a blending of egotism and childishness. After an hour or so they became accustomed to my presence. Zeinab, lying on her divan, smoked silently. Some sat in a circle listening to a story-teller, and others sang, playing darboukas and beating tarabouks, the noise of which did not seem to annoy the hanums in the least. My youngest sisters chased each other in pursuit of a gauze-fly-an Eastern token of cheerfulness. Through the open doors the noise of the women and children reached the gardens, like a short recreation of prisoners. In the midst of all this the eunuch remained grave and solemn, occasionally vouchsafing a grim smile at some pretty slave-some Circassian who, freighted with beauty, was decorating the house with magnificent flowers. My duty to my family accomplished, I returned to my own apartments and found Bell. Need I say of whom we spoke? Ah! dearest Martha, If you were only here! IV. THREE weeks have flown, my well-beloved, and, recovered from my surprise and amazement, I can now exactly relate to you this new life of your poor Miriam. This singular return to my family, to this unknown fireside where I came as a stranger, in vain seeking some distant recollection, some link to attach me to it, often causes me incredible amazement, and in the heart of this palace, under these skies of unchanging blue, in the midst of these flowery gardens, I frequently ask myself if all is more than some curious dream. All the customs and manners of the harem are so strange to me that it is an effort to recognize myself in this role of an Arab princess surrounded by slaves. The sweet and tender idea that I was to meet a family has quickly van ished, as you can conceive, disconcerted by the confused crowd, who first made me realize my isolation. You know I am brave; the reaction has taken place, and, with a heart full of love for my father, I have come to hope only in him. In asking, dearest, an exact account of the employment of the days of your Scheherezade, as you style me, you greatly embarrass me. It is not that the programme is very complicated; but this strange course of life resembles the ideal so little that in truth I can not compare it to anything that we have conceived, so as to describe its mingled charm and emptiness. It has a stream of ideas and impressions which one must have experienced to understand. Is this living? Is it dreaming? I do not know, for the height of these enjoyments may be summed up in three words-eating, drinking, sleeping-but these are done in an Eastern, that is to say, indolent and magnificent manner. One rises late, takes a bath, dresses, nibbles a little, lounges on the divan, listens to the chattering of the slaves, and awaits the visit of the master. Add to this, some sailing in dahabiehs on the Nile, or drives in a coach under the shady groves of Choubrah, and you will have an idea of this daily life, which, despite all its sumptuous surroundings, is as monotonous as the blue stream that flows under my windows upon its bed of golden sand. Yet there are hours the indescribable charm of which I can not define. In the evening, by the light of the lusters, the gavazies dancing to the music of their instruments, the young slaves shaking in the air their hands moistened with rose-water, waiters passed around laden with sherbet, the nargiles and chibouks mixing their smoke in a light cloud which escapes through the perfuming-pan in which they burn lumps of amber, the light gleaming upon the stones and rich dresses-all these make the time fly, by absorption of being in a sentiment at once material and ecstatic. My natural idleness fits me well for this course of life, where one scarcely takes the trouble to form a wish; though my Parisian tastes, you will readily comprehend, demand some diversion from this superb far niente. You have already divined that I isolate myself from this pretty feminine flock, whose whole intelligence scarcely rises beyond the admiration of a pearl or the choice of a slipper. At my own home with Bell and Nazly, I spend my time in this manner: I read, I write, I dream. Then, as Saïda says, I am a Frenchwoman. My pretty Durrah, now my friend, soon made me au fait to all the can-cans of the harem; and I am now well informed on the usages. This union of Zeinab and Saïda, as incomprehensible and puzzling as it appears to you, is here the simplest thing in the world. The laws of the coun try allow each to have her own harem, but they never have felt the need of invoking the law, and together form an admirable household. The Great Lady is nearly a mother to the Durrah. Far from being jealous of her juvenile beauty, she willingly decorates her with her own hands, giving most judicious advice about placing the henna, which, with Zeinab, they say has reached the highest degree of art. Saïda, on her side, treats Zeinab with all the respect of a daughter: she does not plume herself too much on her influence as favorite, but puts that influence very amiably at the service of the Great Lady. In short, they divide the sovereignty of the harem. Zeinab has kept up a reverence for the traditions, wonderfully understanding all the forms of etiquette and ceremonies of Mussulman homelife. Saida only desires jewels and dresses. She frolics like a child with her slaves, surrounding herself with the youngest, while the eldest naturally group around the severe spouse. It is a very strange spectacle to see the two enthrone themselves at each extremity of the immense hall, the one gravely lying on her divan, smoking her nargile, drowsy, exhausted, sometimes raising herself on her cushions to speak with the chiaia or with some eunuch; the other, dazzling as the sun, laughing, eager for new games, mixing in the singing and dancing. Saïda pointed out to me Farideh's mother, a Greek slave, whom the rules of Oriental etiquette prevent from seating herself in her daughter's presence. The name of Farideh alone always brings a peal of laughter from the lips of my step-mother. On the other hand, she evades all questions about my sister Hosnah. Her voice changes, even, in pronouncing her name. She seems to be afraid of her. I have not seen Hosnah again since she left Cairo, on the morning of my arrival, for her home at Mansourah; but Farideh has been to Chimilah. If I had allowed it, she would have upset everything in my pretty boudoir, so as to crowd it with trash from the French bazaar, the refuse from the Marseilles shops. She spoke with much animation of her Parisian dresses, and her hatred of Hosnah, giving me the reason for the latter feeling. It seems that the "Caïrine gentry" are divided into two female parties, which my two sisters represent. Hosnah heads that of Old Egypt, the ultras, the adherents of old forms, while Farideh leads the schism—the opposition -in favor of reform and a new future. pass. He often comes to surprise me in the morning, and we converse as friends, sometimes in Arabic, sometimes in French, mingling the two at will. He is thoroughly unreserved, even going so far as to confide to me secrets of state, so you can think how proud I feel. You can not tell what a charming bond of tenderness unites us; and the little air of mystery which surrounds his visits decks them with a romantic charm. As you can readily imagine, in our conversations I have inquired into the great business-the principal motive of my recall! It is the settlement of the young princess. As yet, this is only a threat; no plans are formed, so I can still laugh. One of my pleasures, you may know, is to speak with Nazly about my mother. Zeinab, the first wife-the grand dame-is the daughter of a pasha. My mother was a poor slave, with whom my father fell in love, and was a Durrah, like Saïda-a reason which makes me love my little step-mother. While I am writing, the hour of siesta has sounded. Silence descends upon the palace. Some slaves are lying at my feet asleep. What a pretty tableau! There is one of them, particularly, a Smyrniote of about fourteen years of age, with hair and lashes of jet. Poor little one! Where are her family? In looking on her, I no longer dare to complain. Well, dearest, I, too, must go to sleep. Shall I tell you my foolish belief? I am sure I shall see you in my dreams. Great news! My brother Ali has arrived! V. As you may conceive, our first interview was a momentous affair. My father brought Ali to my house. During the first few moments we stood before each other silent and immovable, both seized with the same agitation. Suddenly my brother held out his hands, and I put mine in them, and a little later we were seated together on the divan. "What a pretty surprise you are, sister!" he said, touched and charmed. He looked at me, and I could not remove my eyes from his face. My father left us alone. Ali is twenty years of age. Of medium size, there is an air of rare elegance about him. His great velvet eyes alone betray his Eastern origin. His smile is refined, but slightly malicious, veiled by a long, black mustache. He is vivacious and witty, with an indolent, attractive grace, the striking charm of which I can not describe. It was a true happiness to find each other again, to make each other's acquaintance, so to speak, after so many years of separation and forgetfulness. Being older than myself, Ali had retained a recollection of me. He recalled a thousand little incidents of our childhood, which seemed to awake in his mind as an image half effaced, in which one feature often suffices to decide the contour. He spoke of our mother, and it seemed to me that, far off as that time was, I could go back with him. I took up those visions of the past, so full of melancholy and of sweetness, and these dear memories suddenly renewed the interrupted link of our fraternal relations. The exile we both had undergone was yet another bond of affection. We thought aloud, exchanging our sentiments and betraying in our hearts the affinity of feeling deep in our souls. We talked a long time, and he enlarged on a subject of which they never speak in the family. I have told you already that my brother married an infidel. The history of their union is romantic and touching. At eighteen years of age Ali returned from England wild with love for a poor but noble young girl. After having refused his consent for a long time, my father yielded to the overwhelming despair of his son. They have been married nearly two years now, and, though she has yielded, with the best grace in the world, to all the observances of a Mussulman life, the poor Christian has not been able to disarm prejudice. My sisters do not visit her; even my father, good and enlightened as he is, has never consented to see her. Their love suffices and consoles them, and nothing is more charming than the love of Ali for his dear little soul. "I am very sure, Miriam, that you would love my poor little Adilah," said my brother. me. I felt it would fill the void in which I had lived since my return. This charming brother would be a support and a friend. Educated in Europe, and married to a European, he would know how to understand me. With him I could speak fearlessly of the past and of the future. A feeling of pity, united to a lively curiosity, seized me in recalling his confidences with regard to his marriage. I already adored this lonely girl, repulsed by a family she vainly sought to conciliate. I could imagine her melancholy, her discouragement, during the long absences of my brother, who, in the discharge of his business, is often obliged to be away from her. Full of these thoughts, I impatiently awaited the next morning to talk over Ali's visit with my father. He was enchanted to hear me speak of the affection which had already arisen between us. Then, with innumerable precautions, I managed to express my desire of knowing my sister-in-law; but at the first words I met with such lively opposition that I realized I was attacking scruples hard to vanquish. He appeared astonished that such an idea had occurred to me. 'Oh, you !—you are a little rebel," he replied. "There is no doubt of that." "Well, then, that will be the excuse. Ali will be so happy! Nothing but a little meeting "I love her already Ali, because she is your wife; and, besides, I feel a sympathy for her lone--very mysterious-hidden—” liness, without family or friends." "She knows that I am with you now. I can not understand by what intuition she should have divined you as you are. She has even drawn your portrait nearly exactly. What a delight it would be for her to see you!" "And for me also!" I cried. "Alas!" he replied, "will our father ever permit you to know her?" Though sharing this fear, I had at heart a secret hope. I confided it to Ali, without inspiring him with confidence. The severity of our father has its weaknesses," I said; "he has already yielded so much to me that I can not believe he will deprive us both of this happiness." Hidden! You have it all well arranged!— but I shall know it." "No! You shall shut your eyes—just like that," I said, making a bandage of my hands over his eyes. "You arrange your plan easily." "What could be more simple? I will go out some day with Bell and Nazly, who will not betray me." "And your people?" "I will stop at the house of Nazly's sister, where I will leave them. From there, through the little garden, we shall reach the bank of the Nile. If by chance Ali's house should be there, what is to be done?" "Do you not see this scheme, with its risk, "Adilah is a Christian," he answered, "and will revolutionize the family?" here that is a heavy crime." "Bah! our father is too intelligent—” er than his will, my dear Miriam." A little discouraged, I had nothing to say. We parted with regret, promising to see each other very soon. "You are so good-and love your rebellious daughter so much. Come! is it agreed on?" "I say nothing; but take care I do not catch you there," he added, with one of those sweet smiles which so charm me in him. Tremble, Martha; I had not deceived myself. You have found a rival! but I know that your This visit from Ali had a very sweet effect on tenderness will not turn to jealousy, and that you will never find I can be too much beloved, nor black as mine, fringed with long lashes, which too happy. The same morning that I had wrested this permission so hard to obtain from my father, I went out in the carriage with Bell and Nazly. I have not yet told you, I believe, that Nazly has a sister-the widow of an officer-who frequently comes to see her. Desirous of showing some token of esteem to my good nurse, I have sometimes stopped at her house. All was executed as I had planned. On reaching Zourah's house (her discretion is beyond doubt), we descended, and while my people awaited me at the gate we went out through the garden. It was the first time since my residence in Egypt that I had walked abroad. Nazly guided us. The path, bordered with India cane, with spreading red flowers, had a sort of dazzling effect which added to the pleasure of our flight. The absence of my keepers, the blue heavens, and the calm of the fields seemed to take my breath away. In ten minutes, by following the bank of the river, we reached a palace, with roofs in the form of domes, of the purest Byzantine style. As we attempted to enter the door, the porters hastened to bar our passage. It is not easy to get into an Arab house. By much persistence, governed perhaps by a certain command, under which they recognized some powerful hanum, they allowed us to enter the court; but there we encountered a still more serious obstacle. Luckily, through the thoughtfulness of Bell, who had remembered to carry her bankbook, I got round it. I tore a leaf from it, and, writing my name with a pencil, waited while a eunuch carried it to his master. My brother instantly ran-wild with joy—and drew me toward a flight of steps on the terrace, leading to a shaded veranda carpeted with flowers. Scarcely had we entered, than he darted to me, and kissed me on my forehead above my veil. "This is against the rules!" I cried. "Here we infringe the rules," he replied. The rooms that we passed through all exhibited the taste and comfort of an almost European household. We went alone without any cortège of eunuchs and slaves. Soon we reached the saloon, where the first object that attracted my notice was an open, magnificent Erard piano; a library, pictures-but I could observe no more, for an airy, floating form, rising from a divan, ran to me, and taking me in her arms kissed me on each cheek. I can never make you understand the impression Adilah produced on me, nor the ravishing type of beauty, which took me by storm. It is dazzling, like something one dreams of-angel, woman, nymph, houri - combined. Imagine a coronal of crimped golden hair, an eye contrast admirably with her English complexion, at the same time rosy and of milky whiteness. The contrast is so wonderful that one does not think of observing the other features, which are of rare perfection. Her expansive nature conveys the impression of ardent and vivacious youth, combined with animated grace, which once seen is never forgotten. "You have much taste, brother," I said to Ali, holding Adilah by the hand. 66 Say much happiness, Miriam." They could not get over the surprise my appearance caused them. I had to give an account of how I gained the victory; how I had interceded with my father, and by what miracle I had gained his tacit consent. Though an Englishwoman, Adilah speaks French admirably. Ali has not been able to dispense with the exterior observances of Mussulman life, to which she has submitted without trouble or regret, but the interior of their home has nothing of the harem about it. The eunuchs are there only for form's sake, and the slaves are servants. Ali takes his meals with his wife. This incident, which seems so natural to you, is an extraordinary exception here. When the dinnerhour came, we went into a dining-room inclosed with glass, looking on the Nile. You can never begin to imagine my brother's manner to Adilah -his loving attention, his tender glances and smiles! I was absorbed in the contemplation of this happiness. They feel that they are all in all to each other, and that nothing exists or touches them apart from each other. He observed my absence of mind. "Why do you not speak more, Miriam ?" he inquired. "I am looking at you!" Adilah divined my thought. 66 'This life will soon be yours," she said, "when you are married." I own these words made a very singular impression on me. Marriage is, in fact, the end of woman's life. I also shall marry as others do. Do you recollect our jesting on this subjectand how our husbands should be-with what gifts we endowed them-and what miraculous qualities? You even made again and again numerous pictures of mine; I must say, with shame at my requirements, you never succeeded in satisfying me. I can not tell why, on seeing my brother and his wife, these idle memories recurred to me. A lively curiosity as to the future took possession of me. What was to be my destiny? At this idea I could not prevent a feeling almost of terror. My too short visit passed in calm and friendly manner. I felt that they had given me a place in their hearts. Adilah took me to the piano, and I played one of those nocturnes of Chopin's that you always say make you weep. All three of us felt sad and disquieted. When Ali's glance met mine I read the same thought in his eyes. "What if we should not see each other again?" But we did not part without hope of future meetings. I returned home gently agitated. I will believe I will hope. The void in my heart will be filled. I have a family who may yet replace the one I have lost. How changed now appears my life in Egypt! VI. WHEN my father appeared the next morning, I cried out: "She is an angel! and if you knew her you would adore her." would engross all my time. Though she is very much attached to me, the poor little thing can not change or be other than a charming bird. We often go out together. Nearly every day she entices me to Choubrah, the tour du lac of Cairo. There is the gorgeous display of equipages and toilets, the European colony in great numbers, tourists, and harem - carriages parade there in rich array. Saïda has a wonderful tact in recognizing her friends through their veils. Choubrah is the field where the rival parties of Old and Young Egypt wage their warfare. The contrast is so striking that I had remarked it even before Saïda mentioned it: The ultras, retrograde, shrouded in the habarah of black silk, even their hands hidden, and the curtains of their carriages carefully drawn down. The new "Who? What?" he asked, amazed at such school, on the contrary, wear the Turkish féan explosion. I had burned my ships, and before so much goodness I should have thought it disloyal not to make him a frank avowal. redjé carelessly over the shoulders, so as to let the Parisian dress be seen. Upon their heads they wear an illusion bonnet with a wreath of flowers, and a veil so thin as scarcely to conceal "How are your eyes this morning?" I asked the countenance, and gloved hands. They afwith effrontery. "My eyes! What do you mean? " "Did you not suffer yesterday? " fectedly coquette with passers-by from the depths of their coupes, and with their English coachmen and liveries do not seem separated He looked into my face and shook his finger from European manners except by the fragile at me. "You have made some guilty escapade." I hung my head like a true hypocrite. "Pardon! I have deceived the best of fathers, to go and see a certain brother whom I love." "Already?" Without noticing his interruption I related to him all the incidents of the previous day, and made him listen to my admiration of Adilah. It was the first time he had heard her truly spoken of, or even a word in her favor. Ali never alludes to his wife. I did not conceal the length of my visit. "I am so happy," I said, "that you must not scold me. And, besides, I have not disobeyed You are so good that you did not dictate the time-" you. I was not long in securing pardon. "Your visit can scarcely be repeated, though," he added. This answer was rather categorical, but encouraged by the result I will be sure to conquer. I am not the daughter of my father for nothing. In spite of his decided tone and positive manner, I know the weakness which renders him so tender and indulgent to me. At first he will argue -then I shall reason; perhaps even he will consent to become totally blind. There exists between myself and my little step-mother a very pleasant friendship. I defend myself a little from those childish outbursts which barrier of the yachmak, which scarcely conceals the features more than your veils. Their eunuchs even keep at a discreet distance, as if their functions were at an end. These Parisianized Arabs fraternize with the foreigners, whom they strive to imitate in everything (though they despise them as infidels)-apart from that, intimacy, quarrels, intrigues, all the outside show of an amiable society where each respects the other. The gentle Durrah took me to visit my sister Farideh, who is the head of the new party, and I was very agreeably pleased with her, though. strange and eccentric. Married to a Turk, very heavy in body and brain, she lives in the midst of the Esbékieh, in a flashy new palace, only distinguishable from the French houses by a light grating on the windows. An Italian architect built this marvel of bad taste, which she has decorated in French style, the furniture coming direct from the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, even to the carpets. All around are musical boxes, mechanical pianos, etc. Farideh adores noise. With these curious tastes, she is a Caïrene chronicle, and one of the celebrities of the country. Visitors flock to her house at all hours. They do not discuss the singing girls or the gavazies, but are interested in conversing about the actresses of Cairo, the Viceroy's balls, and the Paris fashions. Her receptions are all the rage. Last year she gave a sort of French rout. Men being naturally excluded from the harem, she had to fill their places. The largest of her |