I should certainly annoy you, my dear Louis, if I were to endeavour to impress upon you the full significance of the amazing events through which I have passed during these four months. I don't know of a single mortal who has experienced more original adventures. The dreadful letter from the notary, my installation at Férouzat, my uncle's will, the harem tumbling down upon me from Turkey, the entering into complete possession of my fortune, and the whole crowned by the return of the deceased. Certainly you will agree with me that these are incidents which one does not meet with in everyday life. Nevertheless, if you want to know my ideas about them, I confess that they seem to me at the present moment to be nothing but the Necessary and the Contingent of philosophers, in their simplest application. I would go so far as to assert that, to a nephew of my uncle, things could not fall so to happen, for it would show a want of training in the most elementary principles of logic, to exhibit surprise at such little adventures, when once Barbassou-Pasha has been introduced on the scene as Prime Cause. The substratum of my uncle so powerfully influences my destiny, that to my mind it would seem quite paradoxical to expect the same things ever to happen to me as to any other man. Cease being astonished, therefore, at any strange peculiarities in my life, even if they be eccentric enough to shock a rigidly constituted mind. Like those erratic planets which deviate occasionally from their course, I move around the remarkable star called Barbassou-Pasha, and he draws me into his own eccentric orbit. In spite of a semblance of romantic complications among the really simple facts which I have related to you, I defy you to discover in them the slightest grain of inconsistency. They can be perfectly well accounted for by the most natural causes and the most ordinary calculations of common sense. Cease your astonishment, therefore, unless you wish to fall into the lowest rank in my estimation.
Having postulated the fact that I am the nephew of my uncle, I will now return to the summarising of my situation. Well, my late uncle had come to life again, but he wanted to keep all the advantages of his status as a dead man, by obliging me to remain in possession of his property. I had just said "good night" to him, while he was dreaming about his camels. Nothing could be less complicated than that. If all that is not in strict conformity with the character of Barbassou (Claude Anatole), I know nothing about him. Nevertheless, it was only natural that the day celebrated by his return should give birth to some other incidents of importance.
I had just left my uncle, and was walking towards the library to write at once to the notary, when Francis informed me that a woman from the Kasre had been waiting an hour to see me. One of the Greek servants came sometimes to the château, either with messages or to await my orders. I concluded at once that, not having seen me either during the day or in the evening, my little animals had grown anxious and were sending to inquire after me. I went to my room, where Francis said the woman was. As I entered I saw her standing up, motionless, near the window, wrapped in her great black feridjié; but I had hardly shut the door behind me when, all at once, I heard a cry and sobs. The feridjié fell down, and I recognised Kondjé-Gul, who threw herself on to my neck and seized me in her arms with signs of the deepest despair.
"Good gracious!" I said, "is that you? You come here?"
Breathless and suffocated with tears, she could not answer me. I guessed, rather than heard, these words:
"I have run away! I have come to die with you!"
"But you are mad, dear, quite mad!" I exclaimed. "Why should you die? What has happened then?"
"Oh, we know all!" she continued. "Barbassou-Pasha has returned. He is a terrible man. He is going to kill you; us also; Mohammed also!"
And raving with fear she clung to me with all her strength, just as if she were already threatened with death.