Our track led over some low hills. The ground was covered with deep snow. We had to dismount, and struggle as best we could through the treacherous soil. The sun shone bright above our heads; the reflection from the white surface at our feet was blinding in the extreme. We staggered about, and followed in each other's track, like a number of drunken men, and after eight hours' incessant toil reached Daha, a Kurdish village.
We were here informed that the road to Bayazid had been blocked for eight days; and that the village was full of caravans which had made daily attempts to force a passage forward. All the inhabitants were going to turn out at daybreak on the following day. They intended, if possible, to clear a track from Daha to the next village.
The daughter of my host took a great deal of interest in her father's guests. She was a tall, fine-looking girl, with a high cone-shaped head-dress made of black silk. A quantity of gold spangles were fastened to this covering. A red jacket and loose white trousers enveloped her limbs and body, her feet were thrust in some white slippers. If only she had been properly washed, she would have been a very attractive-looking young lady. But soap and water were evidently strangers to the Kurd's dwelling, if I might judge by the surprise the girl evinced when Radford commenced washing his pans after he had cooked my dinner.
"So you wash the dishes and pans in your country?" she remarked.
"But it gives a great deal of trouble," observed the girl; "and it does not make the dinner taste any better."
The voice of her father on the outside of the dwelling made the young lady aware that she would probably receive a scolding if she were found talking to a European. Sticking her fingers into a tin box, and seizing a handful of biscuits, she ran into the stable.
"She is very dirty," observed Mohammed, who had overheard the conversation; "but, for all that, if she were well washed, she would fetch a good price as a wife for some Bey in Constantinople. It is a pity that you are not a follower of Islam, Effendi," continued my servant; "she is tall, she would make a good wife for you."
I now learnt that certain Turkish merchants were in the habit of visiting the Kurd district in the summer months. If they meet with a pretty girl, they buy her from her parents, and then, taking the young lady to Constantinople, make her go through a course of Turkish baths, and feed her well. Under this régime the girl's complexion improves. She will command a considerable price as an addition to the seraglio of some magnate or other. If she succeeds in gaining the favour of her lord, she does not forget the relatives at home, but sends them money and presents, besides interesting herself for the advancement of her brothers and other relations. The result of this is, that a Kurd has no objection to part with his pretty daughter. If she is well sold at Constantinople, this is looked upon, by the young lady's family, as rather a feather in their cap than otherwise.
"Rich men generally get pretty wives," said Mohammed, as he concluded giving me this information. "Is it the same in your country, Effendi?"