The dinner was served in the European style, and the table was remarkably well appointed. French wines were in abundance, and champagne and Edinburgh ale were not wanting; but the dessert was the charm of the repast. The fruit of Constantinople has a perfume that I never met with elsewhere; and, did the natives suffer it to ripen fully, which from their excessive fondness for it they very rarely do, much of it would probably be unrivalled for the delicacy of its flavour. Pyramids of this delicious fruit occupied the angles of the table, the most delicate pastry was ranged beside it, and the centre was occupied by a castellated tower, formed of sweetmeats, and surmounted by the British and Ottoman banners linked together. From this dish alone the Bey declined to serve his guests, lest he should disturb the union of the two flags, even symbolically; and many gracious things were said on the subject both by himself and his friends; nor had he neglected to turn the Banner of the Crescent towards the head of the table, at which he had requested me to preside; while the Union Jack of England floated over his own plate.
When we withdrew from table, I went, accompanied by the Greek lady whom I have already named, to pay a visit to the harem of the Bey. A door opened from the hall of the Salemliek into a second, or inner garden, to which we descended by a flight of steps; and after having traversed a covered walk, we found ourselves at the entrance of the harem, where a black slave, with extremely long hair, plaited in numerous braids which were looped about her shoulders, preceded us to the gallery opening into the women’s apartments; but, ere we had ascended the whole stair, we were met by the young wife of the Bey, who, taking my hand with the sweetest smile in the world, led me forward to her cool, pretty, English-looking parlour, where I found myself in the midst of chairs, sofas, and tables; and opposite to one of the loveliest women whom I had seen in the country.
The Bey followed us in the space of a few moments, and I could not refrain from expressing to him my admiration of his wife. She scarcely looked like an oriental woman, for her large black eyes, in lieu of the sleepy, dreamlike expression so general in the East, were full of brightness and intelligence; and her dark hair, instead of being concealed beneath the painted handkerchief, or cut straight across her forehead, hung in graceful curls about her fair young brow, which was as pure and smooth as marble.
She was just eighteen, and neither dye nor paint had ever sullied the purity of her complexion; while the faint tinge of red that relieved the snowy whiteness of her cheek, looked as though it nestled there almost unconsciously; and at times, as she conversed, it deepened into a blush that heightened the effect of her glowing beauty. Her dress, although of Turkish form, was partly of European arrangement; her purple silk vest was folded closely about her waist, and met beneath her long and graceful throat; her figure was beautiful; and the little foot that peeped out from under the black satin pantaloon, was covered by a stocking of snowy white. Her antery was of English bombazine, sprinkled with coloured flowers; she wore no henna on her hands; and when she had fastened the carnations which I presented to her, among her rich, dark hair, she was the very creature who would have inspired the gifted pencil of Pickersgill—so fair, so young, so exquisitely graceful, and so beautifully oriental.
I learnt without surprise that she belonged to one of the first families of Constantinople, and that she had received (for a Turkish female) an excellent education. She looked it all; and the books that were strown about her apartment, and the little inkstand that stood upon the table beside the chair on which she sat, appeared by no means displaced, even although I saw them in a Turkish harem.
The party was shortly augmented by the entrance of the Bey’s mother, who led by the hand a sweet little girl of ten or eleven years of age, his daughter by a former marriage, whose mother died previously to his residence in England; and they were followed by his aunt and his young sister, a child of about the same age as his own.
I lingered for upwards of two hours in the harem, where coffee was served by the fair wife of the Bey, with a smiling graciousness that convinced me of my welcome; and when, on my departure, she accompanied me to the foot of the stairs, and assured me, according to the oriental custom, that the house and all that it contained were at my disposal, she coupled the ceremony with a request that I would come and see her again; and so earnestly was it expressed, that I did not hesitate to assure her of the pleasure which I should derive from a repetition of my visit.
How I longed to take her by the hand, and lead her forth from her pretty prison, to “witch the world” with her young beauty—but alas! the door of the Salemliek closed behind me; and as the Bey came forward to conduct me into the saloon where my father was waiting for me to take our leave, I lost sight of the fair and graceful Azimè Hanoum.