“Fear not, lady,” said Gascoigne, “it is not the first time that I have beheld that sweet face. I sigh for a companion. What would I not give to be sitting by your side? I am not of your creed, ’tis true—but does it therefore follow that we should not love each other?”
The Moorish girl was about to reply, when Gascoigne received an answer from a quarter whence he little expected it. It was from the Moor himself, who, hearing his daughter scream, had come swiftly up to the roof.
“Does the Frankish lily wish to mingle her perfumes with the dark violet?” said he, for he had often seen the sister of the vice-consul, and he imagined it was she who had come on the roof and ascended the wall to speak with his daughter.
Gascoigne had presence of mind to avail himself of this fortunate mistake.
“I am alone, worthy Moor,” replied he, pulling the muslin more over his face, “and I pine for a companion. I have been charmed by the nightingale on the roof of your dwelling; but I thought not to meet the face of a man, when I took courage to climb this ladder.”
“If the Frankish lily will have courage to descend, she can sit by the side of the dark violet.”
Gascoigne thought it advisable to make no reply.
“Fear not,” said the old Moor; “what is an old man but a woman?” and the Moor brought a ladder, which he placed against the wall.
After a pause, Gascoigne said, “It is my fate;” and he then descended, and was led by the Moor to the mattress upon which his daughter reclined. The Moor then took his seat near them, and they entered into conversation. Gascoigne knew quite enough of the vice-consul and his sister to play his part—and he thought proper to tell the Moor that her brother wished to give her as wife to the captain of the ship, whom she abhorred, and would take her to a cold and foggy climate; that she had been born here, and wished to live and die here, and would prefer passing her life in his women’s apartments, to leaving this country. At which Abdel Faza, for such was his name, felt very amorous; he put his hand to his forehead, salaamed, and told Gascoigne that his zenana, and all that were in it, were hers, as well as his house and himself. After an hour’s conversation, in which Azar, his daughter, did not join, the old Moor asked Gascoigne to descend into the women’s apartment; and observing his daughter’s silence, said to her:
“Azar, you are angry that this Frankish houri should come to the apartments of which you have hitherto been sole mistress. Fear not, you will soon be another’s, for Osman Ali has asked thee for his wife, and I have listened to his request.”