"Oh, my boy, you don't understand," she said sadly. "When you are a man I'll tell you, and then perhaps you'll think differently."
"When I am a man, I shall be like my father, but richer and more powerful, because I shall have more knowledge, thanks to you, my mother."
"I hope you will be like your father, Raoul, I ask for nothing better."
When her boy reached manhood Annette intended to tell him the truth, and to leave him to deal with the situation as he would.
At ten years, her son had as much general knowledge as the average French boy of his age, thanks to his mother's teachings. And he knew, too, a great deal more than she taught him.
He was a big lad for his years, handsome and quick-tempered, the Sultan's acknowledged heir. On every side there were people anxious to spoil him and curry favour with him. In the scented, sensual atmosphere of the harem, he learnt things his mother would have kept from him. But she was powerless among so many, all ready to flatter her boy and gain his good graces.
"When I grow up," he said to her one day, "I shall have a hundred wives, like my father."
"In the France I come from a man has but one. You must always remember that, Raoul."
"Only one! Then, mother, I call that a poor country. How can a man be satisfied with one woman? My father has promised me wives of my own when I am sixteen."
It seemed to Annette that in this profligate atmosphere her boy was drifting further and further away from her and his own nation; becoming daily more akin to the barbaric people around him.