Now Fareedie was on the balcony looking down on the fountain below and some shrubs covered with wonderful large blue flowers (like morning-glories, only ever so much larger)—"trees of flowers," she called the shrubs; then she spied a little rocking-chair, something that was a wonderful curiosity to her, and, when told that she might sit in it, she rocked back and forth furiously, till I really feared she would break her pretty little neck.
I said to Mrs. Smith, "This will never do; I will take her on my lap and show her pictures."
"Yes," said she, "that will be a great treat, for she has never seen any."
"It is not possible!" I exclaimed.
"Indeed it is. You forget the Mohammedans do not allow pictures anywhere in their houses, and the little books I have to teach the children from are French ones without illustrations."
By this time I had gotten a book of Natural History, and, taking the little girl on my knees, I said I would show her something. I opened the book at random, and I shall never forget the look upon Fareedie's face, nor the quiver that ran through her little body, when she saw the picture and screamed out, "Tigre! Tigre!"
At this Ali ran to us and the two turned over the pages hurriedly, mentioning the names of each animal they knew, with a delight I cannot describe to you.
Then Ali said, "Perhaps, Madame, it may be you have a picture of an engine of a ship—is it so?"
(This sentence of Ali's I have translated for fear it would be hard for you, if I gave it in French. You remember he did not know English.)