“O disappointment! Thou wilt be in Paris! Thou wilt miss my wedding!” cried Gulbeyzah suddenly. “Yûsuf Bey should take some low girl with him since he needs must go. It is sinful to expose thy worth to risks of travel.”
“Have I not told him?” cried the lady Fitnah. “The world will be quite black when she is gone. A girl for whom his father paid three thousand pounds. It is absurd to fling her into boats and filthy trains.”
Barakah smiled at their desire to keep her, thinking with rapture of the coming talks with Julia. She had not then had Julia’s answer to her letter. It arrived within a fortnight of the time of starting.
“ ... How can you write such wickedness?... I heard that you had married a Turk, but thought of course he was converted.... I do not envy you your riches nor your rank at such a price!... No, I will not join you in Paris, and abet you in your infamy. I banish your most impious suggestions from my thoughts for ever.... I am poor and shall remain so; but I have incalculable treasure....”
She crumpled up the closely written sheets, then flung them on the ground and stamped upon them. Yûsuf found her weeping uncontrollably, and asked the cause.
“Then their women are fanatical like ours!” he sighed when told. “Take heart, O fountain of my life! By Allah, such a friend is not worth weeping. We will none the less enjoy ourselves in Paris.”
“I have no wish to go at all,” sobbed Barakah.