At this moment a Greek servant came in, followed by two other women, bringing in the dinner on trays, which they laid upon small low tables of ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
Propriety and good breeding impelled me to take my leave after this very long visit, and I prepared to do so. Upon this my young friends murmured out a concert of confused words, in which I seemed to detect regret at my departure. Fortunately His Excellency intervened by inviting me to stay to dinner with them.
Need I tell you that I accepted!
I sat down on the carpet, as they did, with my legs crossed, and we commenced a delicious banquet. Champagne was brought in for me, an attention which I appreciated. My place was next to Nazli; on my left was Kondjé-Gul, and opposite me, Hadidjé and Zouhra. I will not tell you what dishes were served, my thoughts were set elsewhere.
"How old art thou?" asked Kondjé-Gul, employing in her Italian, which was tinctured with Roumanian, the Turkish form of address.
"Twenty-six," said I, "and how old art thou?"
"Oh, I shall soon be eighteen." This "thouing" of each other was charming. She then told me the ages of the others. Hadidjé was the eldest, she was nineteen: Nazli and Zouhra were between seventeen and eighteen, the age of fresh maturity among the daughters of the East, who ripen earlier than ours. Our gaiety and the prattle of their voices went on without cessation; but as they were drinking nothing but water, I said to Kondjé-Gul, thoughtlessly,
"Won't you taste the wine of France?"
At this proposition she gave such a scared little look that the others asked her to explain what I had said. This caused a great excitement, followed by a discussion in which the father took part. I was beginning to fear that I had given offence to them, when His Excellency at last said a few words which seemed to be decisive. Then Kondjé-Gul, blushing all the while, and hesitating with divine gracefulness, took up my glass and drank—first with a little grimace like a kitten trying strange food, so droll and amusing was it; then, later on, with an air of satisfaction so real that all of them burst out laughing.
By Jove, I must say that at this frank abandonment I felt my heart beat just as if her lips had touched my own in a kiss. Imagine what became of me when Zouhra, Nazli, and Hadidjé held out their hands all at the same time to claim my glass. They passed round the glass and drank, and I after them, perturbed by emotions impossible to describe. This unconstraint varied with bashful reserve, these fascinating scruples, which they overcame one after another, fearing no doubt to offend me by refusing things which they thought were French customs; all their little ways in fact stimulated me, ravished me, and yet daunted me at times so much that I dare no longer brave their looks—although the presence of their father was a sufficient guarantee of the innocent character of these familiarities.