The boy was so well pleased with himself for this that none of Cecil’s lectures on rudeness could produce any effect on him, and she dropped the subject in despair. But the French Consul and M. Karalampi did not see the matter in the same light, and they did their best, happily with only partial success, to found a diplomatic complication upon the incident. A note to the French Government complained of the pernicious influence exercised by England in the household of Ahmed Khémi Pasha, and in ornate and highly complimentary language deprecated the interference of ladies in politics. Cecil was gallantly described as a young woman profoundly learned, with manners the most distinguished, a countenance charming and altogether spiritual, and a bearing at once modest and intrepid, Anglaise des Anglaises. The sting of this description was intended to be in its tail, and the writer went on to say that this young girl, so innocent, so unsuspicious, was only the tool of unscrupulous persons behind the scenes. Here followed a highly coloured portrait of Sir Dugald Haigh, who was described as “this inscrutable automaton of a man,” “this impassive murderer of poor Hindus” (it is scarcely necessary to remark that the latter was a purely fancy touch, probably borrowed from the colonial methods of the writer’s own nation), as a crafty schemer and a Machiavellian plotter.
The note produced a good deal of effect, and there was a debate upon the subject in the French Chamber, while at Westminster certain M.P.’s, whose tender consciences were wounded by the thought of England’s exercising influence anywhere, questioned the Government upon it, and Cecil received through Sir Dugald a vague and formal caution which might have meant anything or nothing, and the matter dropped.
The English books which Cecil procured to replace the vanished novels proved extremely successful in accomplishing her object. Azim Bey devoured them eagerly, and held long conversations upon them with his governess afterwards. To her great amusement, the characters he discussed with most appreciation were those of the villain and of the capable person who acted as deus ex machinâ, and cleared up everything at the end of the story. He pursued the history of the villain’s machinations with breathless interest, and generally carped at his ignominious downfall when virtue triumphed, declaring that such a man would never have let himself be conquered by such feeble means. On the other hand, the character of the wealthy old gentleman who adopts deserving orphan boys and starts them in life, takes necessitous heroes into partnership, and bestows timely fortunes on penniless heroines, suited the vein of rather eccentric benevolence which was noticeable in him. Further reading brought him to wish to do something for the poor—and this not only in the way of giving alms to beggars in the street, which he did carefully as a religious duty. He wished to go amongst them and help them to raise themselves; and when his father absolutely refused to allow him to do anything of the kind, he demanded that his governess should find him some substitute for this employment. After some cogitation, Cecil suggested that he should take an interest in Dr Yehudi’s Mission-schools, the best managed institution of their kind in Baghdad; and Azim Bey set to work at once, and gave the Pasha no peace until he had granted him leave to visit them.
It would be difficult to say whether the Bey or his entertainers felt the honour of this visit more acutely, but the programme was gone through in a thoroughly successful way. Azim Bey inspected all the buildings, listened to the children’s lessons, asked them a few questions himself, and finally sent out one of his servants to buy sweetmeats to distribute among them—all with a stately and paternal air modelled on that which the Pasha wore on similar occasions. He was so supremely well satisfied with himself that, when the ceremony was over, he accepted the Yehudis’ invitation to afternoon tea, and handled his cup and saucer as though to the manner born, or as if he had rehearsed the scene carefully beforehand, as he generally did when he was to meet Europeans. They were a very pleasant little party in the cellar of the Mission-house,—Mrs Yehudi pouring out her woes to Cecil in a corner on the subject of her husband’s irrepressible activity, and her conviction that he would kill himself with work; while Dr Yehudi, genial, rotund, and erudite, conversed with Azim Bey in the purest Arabic, when the harmony of the occasion was marred by the entrance of a visitor. Unfortunately, it was not one of the Jewish rabbis who were wont to come and argue with Dr Yehudi, nor even one of the Turkish gentlemen who sometimes honoured him with a visit for the sake of his many talents, but Charlie Egerton. As he advanced cautiously towards his hostess in the dim light, Azim Bey’s brow grew black, and Cecil turned first red and then white, as she realised that her pupil’s suspicious mind had instantly concluded that the meeting here was prearranged. Ever since Charlie’s visit to their courtyard, Azim Bey had maintained a violent dislike of him, and refused to hear his name mentioned, alleging that he had forced his way into the Palace with the express design of insulting him and of thrusting himself upon Mdlle. Antaza.
A prejudice of this kind could not be dealt with by argument, and Cecil had refrained from attempting it, but now she wished that she had not done so, for even the Yehudis perceived at once that something was wrong. The only unconcerned person was the intruder himself, who complimented Mrs Yehudi on her tea, chaffed the Bey on the subject of his gloomy countenance, and otherwise did his best to make things comfortable. But his efforts were in vain. No sooner had Cecil set down her tea-cup than her pupil rose.
“I am sorry to hasten you, mademoiselle, but it is time that we return. M. le pasteur, may I entreat you to command my servants to be summoned? Accept, madame, the assurance of my most distinguished consideration, and of my eternal gratitude for your hospitality. Allow me to enjoy the hope of one day partaking of it again.”
“May I ride with you as far as the Palace?” said Charlie to Cecil in a low voice, but Azim Bey heard him.
“No, monsieur, pray do not trouble yourself to move. Your attendance is not required. You understand me?”
“Perfectly, Bey,” responded Charlie, and Azim Bey and his attendants mounted and rode off, the Bey keeping a sharp eye upon Cecil, with the view of preventing any lingering farewells. When they were well on their way, he demanded—
“Is this Dr Egerton always at the Mission-house when you go there, mademoiselle?”