It would mean a ceaseless plotting of all my female relatives to capture a suitable parti. And a man would be a suitable parti if he had money and position, irrespective of any other qualifications.
For a long time I had secretly resolved to work and fit myself to lead my own life, and be spared the humiliation of being delivered over by my family to some man who would condescend to receive me without being paid for it. Thus these two years in Paris were years of hard work and application. I had moments of intense longing for Turkey and for my old life, which I had to brush aside, and to keep on working. Now and then, enclosed in my mother’s letters, came epistles from Djimlah and Nashan, but I never heard from Chakendé.
At the end of two years my mother sent for me again. Since I was now sixteen years old, this did not presage well for me. I knew that, as a penniless girl, I had to be disposed of as soon as possible. The older I grew, the more difficult it would be for my female relatives to make a match for me.
This was the sword of Damocles hanging over me. It was not that I was averse to being married. On the contrary, in my most adventurous schemes I never saw myself an old maid. I had the inherent hatred of the Greeks for that word. But I wanted to make my own marriage.
I considered for some time, before returning to Constantinople. I seriously contemplated disobeying the maternal summons and escaping to America; for America always rose up in my dreams as the land of salvation. Ultimately, I knew that I must go there, if I were to earn my own living; but I decided to return to Constantinople. The longing to see it again was strong upon me, and besides my brother happened to be there at this time; and as long as he was there I hoped that I should not be handed over, like bargain counter goods, to any man.
“Ashadnan na Mahomet Rasoul Allah!
Bismallah!
Allah-hu-akbar!”
These were the words chanted, from a minaret near by, in the shrill sweet voice of a young muezzin, as I emerged from my compartment of the Oriental Express, in Constantinople, two days later.
My soul answered to this call of the East. I felt as if I should like to throw myself on a prayer-rug, face Mecca, and cry with the young muezzin, “Allah-hu-akbar!”