“Mademoiselle,” he said to Cecil, as they sat beside the brazier after supper, “there is something I must say to you. You have enemies in the harem, and they make up lying reports about you to tell my father when he returns. The little lady mother said to Mdlle. Katrina when I was there that you were going mad, and that you had taken a dislike to me and would murder me. They know what happened to—him, and they think you will try to avenge his death on me.”
“And you are not afraid, Bey?” asked Cecil, with a sad smile.
“I? oh no, mademoiselle. I know that you are good, and that you love me, since you have even forgiven me. I don’t want them to send you away from me, but that is what they wish to do, and they will do it if they can persuade the Pasha. They are going to send the hakim bashi to see you, and they will talk to him beforehand, so that he will do what they tell him. Could you not look a little more cheerful, dear mademoiselle, just when he comes?”
“I will try,” said Cecil, but when she looked at herself in the glass it struck her that the attempt would be of little use. Could that pale, sad face, from which mournful eyes looked out at her, be her own? If so, it was no wonder that Jamileh Khanum was startled by the change, since even Cecil herself found it surprising. The strain of keeping up her spirits in Azim Bey’s presence was tremendous, and day after day the difficulty of going through the routine of work and recreation became greater. But for his sake she would try to impress the physician favourably, impossible though it seemed even to affect cheerfulness.
The hakim bashi arrived, and she did her best, receiving him with what composure she could muster, and forcing herself to an unexpected burst of high spirits, which only confirmed the physician in the belief which his patroness and her attendant had diligently instilled into his mind, that Mdlle. Antaza’s brain was affected. In this opinion he was strengthened when, on coming back hastily to fetch something he had left, he surprised Cecil in a fit of deep depression, into which she had sunk on the withdrawal of the momentary excitement. For a time, however, nothing came of his visit, and Azim Bey’s household began to hope that the alarm had been a false one, designed by Jamileh Khanum for the purpose of frightening them, when an order came from the Pasha that everything was to be packed up, and every one ready to start at a moment’s notice. Flushed with victory, Ahmed Khémi was returning to Baghdad by a road slightly different from that which he had taken in coming, and his household, with the military escort, was to meet him at a spot situated a good deal lower down the mountain than was Sardiyeh.
Two or three days after the order had been given, Cecil and her pupil were disturbed at breakfast by a sudden invasion of their courtyard. Two of the harem agas swaggered in, and with more than their usual insolence announced that they brought the Khanum Effendi’s orders. Azim Bey and his attendants were to start that morning with the harem procession, which was almost ready for the journey, but Mdlle. Antaza and her nurse were to remain where they were for the present. Cecil’s anger rose at this cool command.
“The Khanum Effendi has no right to detain me here,” she said, quickly.
“Pasha’s order,” was the sole reply, and the chief aga held out a document which on examination proved to be a permission from his Excellency for Mdlle. Antaza to remain behind in the mountains for rest, according to the hakim bashi’s recommendation, until her health should be completely restored. Sardiyeh was to continue to be her residence until further orders should be received. Cecil read the paper through and handed it back calmly to the man. Nothing had power to astonish her now. If the order had been for her instant execution, she would scarcely have felt surprise. But to the other women the blow came unexpectedly, and they pressed forward with loud weeping to kiss her hands and the hem of her dress. That they feared something much worse than the letter implied was evident, and they heaped blessings and expressions of pity upon her alternately, while Um Yusuf stood by and abused the agas roundly, in especial threatening them in such moving terms with the wrath of the Balio Bey that they glanced round apprehensively, as though expecting to see Sir Dugald appear miraculously in all his might as the champion of injured virtue. Speedily recovering themselves, however, they drove off the women, wailing and beating their breasts and calling down maledictions upon the agas’ respective ancestors, while Azim Bey, who had been standing at Cecil’s side, was also ordered to accompany them. The boy’s very lips were white as he kissed his governess’s hand.
“Don’t lose heart, mademoiselle,” he whispered. “I know they intend evil against you, but my father shall know everything, and if he will not help I will speak to the Balio Bey.”
“Are we to be left here alone?” asked Cecil of the agas.