The luncheon went off charmingly and merrily. As she chatted with us, my aunt signalled to Francis and gave him her instructions for those innumerable comforts which a woman only can think of. My uncle, as if by enchantment, found everything ready to hand; before he had time to ask for anything to drink, he found his glass filled. We had not been accustomed to this kind of service. When we left the table my aunt said,
"Let us take a turn in the grounds."
She took my arm and we started off. I won't trouble you with a description of this walk, in the course of which my aunt and I succeeded in improving our acquaintance. We soon grew to understand each other thoroughly. With supreme tact, and without apparent design on her part, she had led me on by discreet questions to give her, before a quarter of an hour had passed, a complete catalogue from A. to Z. of all my studies, my tastes, and my pursuits, including of course my youthful escapades, which made her smile more than once.
In this outpouring I excepted, as you may be sure, the revelations of my career as a pasha. My uncle walked close to us, but left us to talk together. One might have thought that he was resuming his marital duties, interrupted only the evening before, without their course having been disturbed by any appreciable incident. All at once, we arrived at the foot-path which leads to the Turkish house.
"Ah! let us go into Kasre-El-Nouzha!" said my aunt.
At this I glanced at my uncle with an air of distress; he, without wincing in the least, said:
"The communicating door is walled up. Kasre-El-Nouzha is let."
"Let!" she exclaimed; "To whom?"
"To an important personage, Mohammed-Azis, a friend of mine from Constantinople. You do not know him."
"You ungrateful wretch!" she continued with a laugh: "that's the way you observe my memory, is it?"