But even as he spoke the words, I became aware of a vague disturbance in the street, and—
“Ah!” cried Mohammed, running to the foot of the steps and gazing upwards, “now am I utterly undone! Shame of thy parents that thou art, it is now unavoidable that the Lady Zuleyka shall find thee in my shop. Listen, offensive insect—thou art Saïd, my assistant. Utter not one word; or with this”—to my great alarm he produced a dangerous-looking pistol from beneath his robe—“will I blow a hole through thy vacuous skull!”
Hastily concealing the pistol, he went hurrying up the steps, in time to perform a low salutation before a veiled woman who was accompanied by a Sûdanese servant-girl and a negro. Exchanging some words with her which I was unable to detect, Mohammed er-Rahmân led the way down into the apartment wherein I stood, followed by the lady, who in turn was followed by her servant. The negro remained above. Perceiving me as she entered, the lady, who was attired with extraordinary elegance, paused, glancing at Mohammed.
“My lady,” he began immediately, bowing before her, “it is Saïd my assistant, the slothfulness of whose habits is only exceeded by the impudence of his conversation.”
She hesitated, bestowing upon me a glance of her beautiful eyes. Despite the gloom of the place and the yashmak which she wore, it was manifest that she was good to look upon. A faint but exquisite perfume stole to my nostrils, whereby I knew that Mohammed’s charming visitor was none other than, the Lady Zuleyka.
“Yet,” she said softly, “he hath the look of an active young man.”
“His activity,” replied the scent merchant, “resideth entirely in his tongue.”
The Lady Zuleyka seated herself upon the dîwan, looking all about the apartment.
“Everything is in readiness, Mohammed?” she asked.