The lady stamped her foot, when the duenna shuffled off, wagging her head forebodingly and mumbling.
“How absurd!” thought Barakah. “Haven’t Yûsuf and the Pasha told me twenty times that women, in the kind of shroud they make us wear, can go anywhere alone without attracting notice?”
When the carriage came—a hooded one—she sallied forth, correctly veiled, escorted by Ghandûr, who, seeing no one with her, asked leave to mount the box beside the driver. She gave it, feeling sure that the old woman was watching the departure through some upper lattice. Ghandûr sprang up with a delighted grin, quite rigid with the pride of high preferment.
CHAPTER XII
In the sandy lane outside the Camerons’ garden-gate some carriages already waited; a saddle-horse or two and many donkeys, all in charge of servants, twitched their ears and swished their tails in the deep shadow by the wall. Barakah felt disappointed and annoyed. It seemed that she had lighted on a great reception, when her desire had been a quiet chat with Mrs. Cameron. Prevision of Ghandûr’s amazement if she gave the order to turn back, and the satisfaction which her quick return would give the mother of propriety, made her go on; but she determined to stay only a few minutes and then walk home, the evening being cool, to spend the time. With this in view, upon alighting she gave money to Ghandûr, bidding him dismiss the carriage and himself go home. He made a good deal of remonstrance, but at last submitted, understanding that the people of the house would furnish means of transit. He considered it his place, however, to remain in waiting.
Barakah then went in, much hampered by the stare of squatting servants which seemed to cling like fetters to her ankles. A Berberi butler ushered her into the drawing-room and announced her with the single word:
“Harîm.”