"You would like to follow me, I daresay," said my aunt with a laugh, as
soon as he had left us.
"Why, of course," I replied, in a careless enough tone. "Still, if his
daughters take after him, you will admit that it may be better to
content myself with my illusions."
"You dear innocent boy! Why, with a Turk, you never know what to
expect!"
Mohammed came back to tell my aunt that her visit had been announced,
and then, preceding her with a dignified bow he opened for her the gates
communicating with the harem. I remained behind. What would happen?
Although the remarkable self possession of my eunuch had set me more at
my ease, it was a critical moment. It was evident that there would be
great excitement among my houris. They would feel at home gossiping with
my aunt, as she spoke Turkish, and they would very likely let out
everything. If one of them mentioned my name only, my aunt would guess
it all.
I waited in a state of suspense such as you can imagine. Finally, after
half-an-hour of cruel anxieties, the sound of the closed door in the
neighbouring room informed me that I was about to know my fate. My aunt
came in, and I did not dare look her in the face. Fortunately I gathered
from her first words that I had nothing more to fear; she complimented
Mohammed upon his good fortune as the father of such charming daughters,
promising often to return to spend a few hours with them, and then at
last we said "Good-bye" to His Excellency.
On our return, my aunt persisted in her eulogiums upon the young Turkish
women, chaffing me about my long solitary period of waiting for her,
separated only by a few walls from those pretty birds shut up in their
golden cage. During the whole of luncheon she regaled my uncle with her
description of these wonderful beauties. He kept looking at me from the
corner of his eye with a furious expression.
As soon as I could escape, I ran off to El-Nouzha to question Mohammed
about what had happened in the harem. He related the whole scene to me
in detail. Nazli, Hadidjé, and Zouhra were alone when he went to
prepare them for my aunt's visit. As Koudjé-Gul was reading in her room,
she had not been informed of it. At the news of such a great event my
houris screamed with joy. Trained as he had been by my uncle never to
forget his part as the father, he had taken care to remind them that, in
accordance with French usage, they must not allow it to be in the least
suspected that they knew me. They promised to do as he wished them,
swearing faithfully to keep all his commands. My aunt was then
introduced. When they saw her, my houris rose up rather frightened, but
she soon set them at ease with a kind word, and then conversation began.
Needless to say, the countess's toilet formed the chief topic of
discourse.