I pondered a good deal over the unfinished phrase, and finally thought I had found the end of it. So one afternoon when she began for the third time, “Have you ever seen—” and stopped, I added—“Nouri Pasha’s other three wives? Yes, I have seen them, and if I were a man I’d gladly give all three of them to get you.”
She turned squarely upon me, a look of amazement in her deep brown eyes, which at the moment were full of the light of the sun and appeared golden. Then she exploded into laughter. Peal followed peal, and I was cross at her for making me appear stupid when I had thought myself so clever.
“Just what made you think this?”
Out of my anger, I answered brutally: “Well, it is quite natural that you should want to know about the women who have supplanted you.”
The instant the words were uttered I repented of them, and I should have tried to gain her pardon, except that she did not even seem to have noticed my brutality.
“I know how they look,” she said calmly: “and men would not agree with you about the exchange. Besides they are all younger than I, the youngest is only three years older than you—only as old as I was when I was married.”
Her voice had been growing colder and colder, and the chill of November frost was on the last word. Fortunately Leila came in with her zither to sing and play. When the time came for me to go away, my friend kissed and patted me for a long time, and said:
“When the hanoum, your mother, goes away again, will she not let you come and stay with me, if I send word I will be responsible for your neck?”
Thus it came about that whenever my mother went off for a week-end, I found myself the guest of my Lady of the Fountain, and slept in the little room off hers. During one of these visits, she came in at night, and sat down near my bed.
“When you go to Paris this time, some one will accompany you,” she said.