“It is our duty to pay them a formal call, my dear,” she said, vigorously completing an elaborate toilet the while. “I have no doubt that that horrid woman, the Um-ul-Pasha, will give us a bad half-hour, but it is better that I should be there to help you to face her.”
To get to the Palace it was necessary to mount ridiculously small donkeys, which picked their way carefully among the inequalities and mud-heaps of the narrow winding streets; while a small army of servants, headed by two gorgeous cavasses in gold-embroidered liveries, who kept back the crowd with whips, gave the occasion the dignity which would otherwise have been sorely wanting to it. It was irritating, if not exactly disappointing, to find on reaching the Palace that all this grandeur had been wasted, since the answer returned to their inquiries by the stout negro who kept the door of the harem, after long colloquies with an invisible maid-servant within, who was apparently displaying an undue eagerness to catch a glimpse of the Frangi ladies, was that the Um-ul-Pasha was indisposed, and that visitors were therefore not received in the harem that day.
“That is all her spite,” said Lady Haigh, as they picked their way back to their donkeys. “She is no more ill than I am. If she had been indisposed this morning, Ovannes Effendi would have known it, and told us not to come, but now she thinks she has slighted you, and given me a slap in the face. Very well, Nazleh Khanum, we shall see!”
But here, just as they were about to mount, Ovannes Effendi overtook them, and after expressing the Pasha’s sorrow that their trouble should have been in vain, begged them to honour his Excellency’s poor abode by deigning to rest for a few minutes, assuring them that his employer would be much hurt if they did not. On Lady Haigh’s acquiescence, he ushered them into a large room furnished in European style, where they found their old acquaintance, Denarien Bey, talking to a very stout gentleman in a very tight frock-coat and a fez. Lady Haigh’s salaam warned Cecil that this was Ahmed Khémi Pasha himself, and she imitated her friend’s reverence as faithfully as she could when she was brought forward and presented. The Pasha was all politeness, evidently anxious to atone for his mother’s incivility, and insisted on sending for coffee and sherbet at once. While the refreshments were being consumed, he kept up a slow and stately conversation with Lady Haigh respecting the journey, pausing with special care to compose each sentence before uttering it. It was evident that he had had a purpose in view in inviting them in, for presently he nodded to Denarien Bey, who took up the conversation in his turn. Lady Haigh told Cecil afterwards that this was because the Pasha now disliked intensely speaking French, and was by no means a master of English, which he was yet too proud to speak badly.
“His Excellency’s heart is much rejoiced by this happy meeting, mademoiselle,” said Denarien Bey; “since he can now impress upon you certain cautions which you will find all-important in your new sphere.”
“I will do my best to conform to his Excellency’s wishes,” murmured Cecil, nervously.
“First, as regards your own position, mademoiselle. You are aware that the state of public opinion here obliges you and your pupil always to remain in the harem while you are at the Palace, while yet it is from the harem that the gravest dangers threaten the life of Azim Bey.” He glanced rather fearfully at the Pasha as he said this, but meeting only a nod of acquiescence, went on. “It has therefore been arranged, mademoiselle, that the quarters occupied by yourself, the Bey, and your attendants, shall be in a separate courtyard, to which none but yourselves shall have access. Thus, while technically in the harem, you will in reality be separated from it, and the door will be guarded by a negro called Aga Masûd, who was the faithful attendant of the Bey’s late mother. His special duty will be to prevent the entrance of emissaries from the harem. It is his Excellency’s most earnest wish that Azim Bey should never cross the threshold of the harem but in your charge, and that while there you should never let him out of your sight. The slaves are not to be trusted.”
He said this apologetically, and as if in explanation, but Cecil knew that he was pointing at much more exalted persons than the slaves. It was the Um-ul-Pasha and his Excellency’s wives who were not to be trusted with the life of the boy so nearly related to them, and she began to feel more than ever the great responsibility of her post. After a few more unimportant remarks, Lady Haigh rose to go, but the Pasha detained her, begging Cecil also to remain.
“I have sent for my son,” he said, “and I hear him coming.”
As he spoke, there appeared in the doorway a small thin boy, looking like a miniature edition of the Pasha in his long black coat, with his dark, solemn, old little face surmounted by the usual tasselled cap. When he saw Cecil, his expression brightened suddenly.