"That is the harem of the grand-vizier," the people now whisper to each other, "and those men at their side are the eunuchs."
Two of these eunuchs now come to the shore, and, in threatening tones, order the men to leave the beach at once, and to go up to Cavalla to announce there that no one shall allow himself to be seen in the streets.
The men hurriedly ascend the pathway to the city, without even venturing to look back at the pacha's harem.
Mohammed Ali alone is nowhere to be seen. He has crouched down behind the rocks, and no one sees the fiery eyes that peer out cautiously from his hiding-place.
The women, looking like white swans, are now rowed to the shore.
The beach is bare—no one sees them. They can venture to open their veils a little, and look about them on this strange shore.
Oh! what glowing eyes, what purple lips, are disclosed to the boy's sight! For the first time, his heart beats stormily; for the first time, he feels a strange delight in his soul. Yes—beautiful are these women, as are the houris in paradise, and enviable is he to whom they belong.
Two of the eunuchs walk before the women, four walk beside them, and imperiously command them to draw their veils closer together. They approach several of them with profound respect, and extend their hands to assist them in entering the palanquins that stand ready to receive them; the others must go on foot.
Loudly resounds the cry of the eunuchs who walk in advance: "The harem—the harem of his excellency! Away, ye men! The harem!"
At this cry all flee to their houses in the city above, and none are to be seen in the deserted streets but the ladies of the harem that are being borne along in palanquins, and the train of veiled figures behind them.