“And the gentlemen down stairs, Rahas and Fanah, are not married?”
“I have never heard that they were, and I’m sure I hope Mr. Rahas would never have the conscience to make up to Nouna if he had another wife in his own country. I have always set my face against that, and have kept Madame di Valdestillas informed of his pretensions. For I’ve heard of these Mahometan gentlemen, that when they take a fancy to a European wife, they send all their other wives away, and have them back again within a month. So that I really feel quite thankful to you for appearing and sending all thoughts of Rahas out of the girl’s flighty head.”
“She never appeared to care for this black fellow, did she?” asked Lauriston jealously.
“Well, no, not in that way. Though she’s a born coquette, Mr. Lauriston, I must warn you, and the man who marries her need have Job’s virtues as well as his own.”
“But she has a good heart,” urged Lauriston, who felt that there was a measure of truth in the lady’s warning.
“Oh yes, her heart’s good enough. The only thing is that it must be for ever shifting its place. However, she may grow more like her mother in time.”
“Good-night, Mrs. Ellis, it is very good of you to be so patient with me and my questions,” said Lauriston, feeling that he was in no present need of further discouragement.
And he left her and ran down stairs. At the front door he was met by Rahas, who came with bland, unprepossessing smiles and courteous gestures, from his own apartments, to bid his guest good-night. Lauriston, who could scarcely treat him civilly since Nouna’s story of the trick he had played on her, was suddenly struck with an idea. He turned to the young merchant in a more conciliatory manner.
“By the by,” he said, “in your interesting account of your strange powers, which you attribute to the planets and I vaguely call mesmeric, you did not tell me one thing: can you call up in the mind of a person over whom you have that influence the image of anything with which that person is acquainted, or can you only raise the images which are familiar to yourself? In other words: is the picture you wish to present so strongly present to your own mind that by the mere force of will you can transfer it to the mind of another? or can you make the other mind work independently of yours?”
“I cannot do that,” said Rahas, shaking his head. “I think I can explain my effect by saying that by the exercise of my will I deaden the forces of the mind I am at work upon, and leave it like the wet cloth before a magic lantern ready to receive any picture I may choose to throw upon it.”