“Thou wilt now have eunuchs and a carriage of thy very own. In sh´Allah, Yûsuf Bey will go on rising till thy pomp excels the dignity of mighty queens.”
Her life could hardly be more easy, she considered; she was quite content. The Pasha’s ladies would be grieved to lose her, and she would feel quite lost apart from them. She thought they all respected and admired her.
It was therefore a great shock to her when one afternoon Murjânah Khânum sent for her and read her a kind lecture on her way of life.
“My pearl,” she said, “I am the head of this harîm and in some sort responsible for all its members. I do not see a slave degenerating without endeavouring to stop the process by a word of warning. How much greater is my duty towards a near relation! My flower, thou art an Englishwoman and we Turks of Europe and of Asia welcomed thee to El Islâm as our own sister. We looked to thee for force of character, for the light of education, for refinement. What has happened, on the contrary? Thou shunnest us for boon companions, persons of the country, who, however estimable, are inferior. Amînah Khânum yesterday complained that thou art growing a fellâhah both in speech and conduct. I do not hold with her, I only tell thee what she said—a thing I cannot bear to hear of my dear daughter. My child, I speak in tenderness. Give thought to higher things—our holy Faith, the dignity of life—and spend not all thy time in mere frivolity. Keep that old woman in her place; I say not shun her, since she is amusing. Frequent good houses, study holy books. To spend one’s whole life in the hot room of the bath is not existence.”
Barakah was deeply hurt. To have her harmless pleasures so severely criticized was as cruel as to see a flower destroyed by hail. She could not take the lofty standpoint of the Turkish lady. Had she done so, viewing life in all its horror, she would have gone mad. How could she bear to look upon herself, the renegade? She was now glad that she was soon to leave that hateful house.
When she told Umm ed-Dahak of her grief, expecting sympathy, the latter smiled and said:
“The right is with her. We must not neglect the things divine. I will myself instruct thee in them, having some small learning. In sh´Allah, I will teach thee to endure those thoughts which now appal thee.”
Instruction of that kind was needed two days later, when Barakah was driven to her new abode. As she alighted from her carriage at the door, some men in waiting cut the throat of a live buffalo by way of compliment. Blood spurted in her path across the threshold.