Cecil was still suffering under the shock caused by Lady Haigh’s want of faith in oriental human nature, and she was very silent at first. But the other two ladies kept up a brisk conversation with Denarien Bey, and presently she became interested against her will.
“Of what nation is the Pasha?” she asked at last, when the rest had been discussing the various reforms which his Excellency had lately introduced.
“It is very difficult to say,” replied Denarien Bey, meditatively. “I should think it probable that he has mingled Turkish, Circassian, and Egyptian blood in his veins. Nothing is known of his antecedents, but in Turkey we care little about that. When he first rose to distinction it was alleged that he himself did not know who his parents were, but he disproved the calumny by producing his mother, and installing her as the head of his harem.”
“And a most disagreeable woman she is too,” said Lady Haigh, with deep feeling. “I really don’t know a more intolerable person. It is a perfect penance to have to go and pay my respects to her, which is one of my official duties.”
“But why is not the Pasha’s wife the head of his harem?” asked Cecil.
“Which?” asked Denarien Bey, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“Oh, has he more than one? I thought he was an enlightened kind of man,” said Cecil.
“He had already two wives when he came to Baghdad,” said Denarien Bey. “You can suppose that his mother chose them for him, if you like, mademoiselle. But his third and favourite wife, the mother of Azim Bey, was an Arab, the daughter of the sheikh of the great Hajar tribe. So you see it is as well that there was some one to keep order in the harem, or the wills of these three ladies might have clashed.”
“But how can the Pasha choose Azim Bey to succeed him if he has two sons older than he is, as you said when we were in the other room?” asked Cecil.
“Not to succeed him, mademoiselle. Surely nothing that I said could have suggested to you such an idea? In Turkey we do not believe in hereditary honours, except in the case of the sovereign, and even then it is the eldest prince in the royal family who succeeds, not necessarily the eldest son of the late king, by any means. But with respect to a pashalik like that of Baghdad, any son of the present Pasha is the very last person on whom the Padishah would think of conferring it at his death. In one or two generations a clever family might gain the allegiance of the whole province, and succeed in detaching it from the empire. It would be the height of folly to permit such a thing. No, our young friend Azim Bey will be only a private person, or if he wishes for public office, he will have to make his way, like the sons of your own viceroys and governor-generals. Of course there will be many advantages on his side. He would have experience, friends, and plenty of money, which, after all, is the great thing with us.”