“By Allah, we will do the same in all respects!” her companions cried delightedly. “But what of Barakah? Promise, O Barakah, to hide the truth from the harîm!”
Barakah promised; when they made her swear to love them always, though they were but slave-girls and she a dignified and noble lady, for the sake of the misfortunes they had borne together. They all clung round her when the train reached Cairo. The door of their compartment was flung open by Sawwâb in person, grinning welcome, with other eunuchs close behind him on the platform.
Sawwâb conducted Barakah with honour to the harîm carriage, entering which she was hugged breathless by the lady Fitnah, while Leylah Khânum and her daughters started chattering, telling her all the news at once and in a single breath.
Gulbeyzah had been married a whole month. She was absent in the country with her lord’s whole house, but would return, it was expected, in a week or two. Had Barakah heard in Europe—no doubt she had—that the Sea Canal was to be opened in the coming year, with great festivities?—the King and Queen of France were coming, it was rumoured. Murjânah Khânum had been far from well. That was why she had not come to welcome Barakah, to whom she sent her warmest salutations. Barakah was not going to the garden-house this time, but to the Pasha’s palace, to remain with them, the praise to Allah! Fitnah herself had seen the rooms cleaned out and perfumed. One of the blacks, Zamurrudah, was dead, the Lord have mercy on her! The old striped cat had kittens, lucky one! The Pasha’s nieces were quite positive about the fact, though no one had been able to find out their hiding-place.
As Barakah, caressed by all of them, received this outpour, her feeling of home-coming was complete. And when she came to her own gilded salon—the same where she had sipped the poison which seemed now a dream—there was a slave-girl of Murjânah Khânum’s waiting to conduct her to the bath, with a present of rare flowers and fruit, and a robe of honour which she was to don, when she had rested, for supper in Murjânah Khânum’s rooms, where all the ladies were invited to meet her.
The ladies, having voided their own news, desired a full account of Paris and her doings. “In sh´Allah, thou wast happy there!” they all exclaimed. When she replied, “My happiness is here with you,” the answer gave unbounded satisfaction. From their remarks she learnt, to her no small amazement, that Hâfiz Bey was the son of her old friend Aminâh Khânum.
“Thou didst not know?” they cried. “How can that be? And Bedr-ul-Budûr—surely thou hast heard of her—the slave whose beauty the Princess was always vaunting? It is very strange!”
The placid gossip and the shaded calm existence were delightful after months of agitation. Barakah fell into the harîm habits with enthusiasm, devouring sweetstuff at all hours, enjoying cigarettes and the narghileh. The best part of her morning was spent at the bath, where the ladies met for gossip and for healthful exercise; her afternoon in seeing visitors or paying visits. Gulbeyzah came to see her, radiating gladness, extolling not her husband but her fellow-wives.
“We spend such merry days together,” she informed her friend. “Oh, how much better than to be an only wife!”
When Barakah returned the visit, she was received by the four durrahs with one voice of welcome. The four together formed a charming small society, quite independent of the husband’s humours and the outside world. All their possessions they enjoyed in common, even children. Barakah was begged to come and see them often, and to love them all.