The doctor started in advance to prepare the way and to hire a house in the Christian quarter. Then he returned, thoughtful, to meet Lady Hester. Thoughtful! There was occasion for it.
Damascus was still a town closed to Europeans. The fanaticism was freely developed and imposed its laws on the governors too benevolent towards foreigners. The length of the Syrian coasts, the relations of commerce, to which the Arabs attached extreme importance owing to the profit which they derived from it, and the authority of the consuls—whom they believed powerful and supported by their countries—had brought a certain tolerance. But Damascus, forbidden fruit, was concealed far inland, guarded by the double ramparts of the Lebanon, by solid walls, and particularly the desert, which came to die at its feet like a silent sea.
The few travellers who had visited it, and whom Lady Hester had met at Cairo or in the towns of the coast, had strongly dissuaded her from attempting an adventure of which the result might be tragic and which certainly would remain perilous.
"Think," said they to her, "that a man cannot even enter Damascus in European costume without being insulted. Think that the Christians, if they dared to ride on horseback in the streets of the town, would be maltreated to such a degree that death would be the consequence. And you intend, you, a woman, a European, to enter Damascus on horseback and with your face uncovered! But it is madness!"
The pacha's page had on several occasions hinted to the interpreter, one of the two Bertrands, that Lady Hester ought to veil herself to enter Damascus in order to avoid irritating the populace. For, in case of a riot, he knew well that the pacha, whose authority was much disputed, would not be able to afford her protection.
M. Bertrand nearly succumbed with horror on learning from the mouth of her ladyship herself that it was her intention to brave Damascene opinion by exhibiting herself in this costume, and in broad daylight.
Lady Hester was courageous. The unforeseen, even charged with threats, smiled upon her. And, above all, she was able to accomplish something great which no one had ever attempted before her. Pitt's niece had always turned up her nose at whatever people might say.
"Whatever people may say of me in England, I do not care more than that," declared she to the doctor, snapping her fingers. "Whatever horrible things all these crooked-minded persons may think, do not trouble me more than if they spat at the sun. That falls back on their noses and all the harm is for them. They are like midges on the tail of an artillery horse. They murmur, and they come and go, and they buzz all around. The great explosion comes! boom! and all are dispersed."
Only she knew well that the Moslems are not satisfied with buzzing and murmuring, and that they would not recoil before bloodshed to obtain vengeance upon her who dared thus to defy their most sacred customs. But is there not at the bottom of the actions which appear the most heroically disinterested a certain sentiment of the gallery which stimulates vanity and renders it more bold? And if one had told Lady Hester that the fame of her exploits would never reach England, would she not have recoiled at the last moment.
On September 1, at four o'clock in the afternoon, Lady Hester passed the gates of Damascus at the head of eighteen horsemen and some twenty mules heavily loaded. In the narrow streets a considerable crowd gathered. It hurried towards the cavalcade, and all eyes were turned towards the person who appeared to be the chief of it.