But one part of my inheritance, the most remarkable and the least
expected, was at present unknown either to the notary or to myself.
I don't wish to make myself out better than I really am, my dear Louis:
I must declare, nevertheless, that in spite of the very natural
bewilderment which I felt on finding myself the owner of such a fortune,
my first thought, when once I had disposed of the legal matters, was to
pay a tribute of mournful regrets to the memory of my poor uncle. I
should have considered it base ingratitude, not to say impiety on my
part, to have shown myself too eager to enjoy the wealth bequeathed to
me by so generous a benefactor. His loss really left a cruel void in my
heart. I decided, therefore, at least to live a few months at Férouzat.
I wrote immediately to the aunt of Anna Campbell, to express my
resolution to fulfil the wishes of my second father, begging her to
dispose of my services in every way as those of a protector and friend
ready to respond to every appeal. Four days afterwards, I received from
her a most cordial and elegantly-worded letter. She assured me of her
confidence in all the good accounts which my uncle had given of me; and
she gave me news of my fiancée, "who for one who is still only a
child, promises already to develop into an accomplished woman."
Having discharged these conventional duties, I shut myself up in my
retreat, and set to work.
For me to say that my retirement was not more distracted than I would
have desired, might perhaps be called a dangerous assertion; but what
could I do? Was it not my duty to acquaint myself with all that my uncle
bequeathed to me? And the Lord knows what marvels my château of Férouzat
contained! Every day I made some fresh discovery in rooms full of
curious furniture and antiquities of all ages and of all countries.
Barbassou-Pasha was a born buyer of valuable objects, and the furniture
was crammed with rich draperies, hangings, costumes, and objects of art
or curios: my steward himself could not enumerate them all.
But the most delightful of all these marvels is certainly
Kasre-el-Nouzha, my neighbouring property. Kasre-el-Nouzha was a
Turkish fancy of my uncle's. These three Arabic words correspond to the
Spanish Buen-Retiro; or, literally translated, they signify "Castle of
Pleasures." This was the retreat, separated only by a party-wall from
Férouzat, that was formerly inhabited by the exiled minister who had
fled from the persecutions of the Sultan. Picture to yourself, hidden in
a great park whose umbrageous foliage concealed it from view, a
delightful palace of the purest Oriental architecture, surrounded by
gardens, with flowering shrubs covered with a wealth of blossoms,
standing in the midst of green lawns, a sort of Vale of Tempé
transplanted, one might imagine, from the East. My uncle Barbassou,
conscientious architect that he was, had copied the plan from one of the
residences of the King of Kashmir. In the interior of the Kasre you
might fancy yourself in the house of some grandee of Stamboul or of
Bagdad. Luxuries, ornaments, furniture, and general domestic
arrangements, have all been studied with the taste of an artist and the
exactitude of an archæologist. At the same time European comforts are
gratefully mingled with Turkish simplicity. The silken tapestries of
Persia, the carpets of Smyrna with those harmonious hues which seem to
be borrowed from the sun, the capacious divans, the bath-rooms, and the
stores, all contribute in short to the completeness of an establishment,
suitable to a Pasha residing under the sky of Provence. A little door in
the park-wall gives access to this oasis. As you may guess, I passed
many an hour there, and I dreamt dreams of "The Thousand and One
Nights."