In the detailed account which I gave you, my dear Louis, of my

honeymoon, I described pretty nearly the history of every day which has

passed since I last wrote. "Happy nations have no history," said a wise

man; happiness requires no description. First then, you must understand

that I am now writing after recovery from the natural excitement into

which my strange adventures had plunged me. Three months have passed; I

am now enjoying my life like a refined vizir, and no longer like a

simple troubadour of Provence, transported of a sudden into the Caliph's

harem. I have recovered my analytical composure.

As you may well imagine I set to work, after the second day, to learn

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Turkish, an easy task after my studies in Sanscrit. Add to this that,

with the aid of love, my houris have learnt French, with all the

marvellous facility and linguistic instinct of the Asiatic races. You

will not be astonished to learn, then, that I can now share with them

all the pleasures of conversation; a happy result which will permit me

henceforth to furnish a more complete description of their different

characters.

Having said this, I will give you in the present letter, with a view of

enabling you to understand this narrative more perfectly, the most

precise details upon the following subjects:

First--The organisation, laws, and internal regulations of my harem;

Second--Full-length portraits of my odalisques, and a description of

their characters;

Third--A careful dissertation upon the advantages of polygamy, and its

applicability to the moral regeneration of mankind.

I will first confess, without any presumption, that the ingenious system

established for the conduct of my harem is all due to my uncle

Barbassou, who, as much as any man in the world, was always particularly

careful to maintain what the English term "respectability." In the eyes

of the whole neighbourhood, nay, even of my own household, Mohammed-Azis

is an exile, a person of high political rank, to whom my uncle had given

a hospitable retreat.

Barbassou-Pasha always addressed him respectfully as "Your Excellency,"

nor did any servant in the château speak in different terms of him. He

had had the misfortune to lose one of his daughters--so the story

goes--for he seems to have had originally five. Whether his daughters

are young or old, no one knows. In the interior of the Kasre all the

services are performed by Greek women, who do not know a word of French;

they never go out of doors. The gardeners have to leave the gardens at

nine o'clock in the morning. All these arrangements, as you will

perceive, are extremely correct. The story about Mohammed is a very

plausible one; his solemn and melancholy expression together with his

solitary life, are thoroughly in conformity with the fallen grandeur of

a minister in disgrace. He is writing, according to report, a memoir in

justification of his conduct. He works at it both day and night, and it

is well-known that I very often sit up quite late with him, in order to

assist him in this task.




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