The Palace of Darkened Windows by Mary Hastings Bradley


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Page 11

"Yes, I will know as soon as I return from the Nile. You are going
to a lot of bother, you and your sister," declared Arlee gratefully.

"I go to ask you to take a little trouble, then, for that sister,"
said the Captain slowly. "She is a widow and alone. Her life is--is
_triste_--melancholy is your English word. Not much of brightness,
of new things, of what you call pleasure, enters into that life, and
she enjoys to meet foreign ladies who are not--what shall I
say?--seekers after curiosities, who think our ladies are strange
sights behind the bars. You know that the Europeans come uninvited
to our wedding receptions and make the strange questions!"

Arlee had the grace to blush, remembering her own avid desire to
make her way into one of those receptions, where the doors of the
Moslem harem are thrown open to the feminine world in widespread
hospitality.

The Captain went on, slowly, his eyes upon her, "But she knows that
you are not one of those others and has requested that you do her
the grace to call upon her. I assured her that you would, for I know
that you are kind, and also," with an air of na�ve pride which Arlee
found admirable in him, "it is not all the world who is invited to
the home of our--our _haut-monde_, you understand?... And then it
will interest you to see how our ladies live in that seclusion which
is so droll to you. Confess you have heard strange stories," and he
smiled in quizzical raillery upon her.

The girl's flush deepened with the memory of the confusing stories
her head was stuffed with; tales of the bloomers, the veils, the
cushions, the sweetmeats, the _nargueils_, the rose baths of the old
_r�gime_ were jostled by the stories of the French nurses and
English governesses and the Paris fashions of the new era. She had
listened breathlessly, with her eager young zest in life, to the
amazing and contradictory narrations of the tourists who were every
whit as ignorant as she was, and her curiosity was on fire to see
for herself. She felt that a chance in a thousand had come her lucky
way.

"I shall be very glad to call," she told him, "just as soon as I
return from the Nile."

His face showed his disappointment--and a certain surprise. "But not
before?"

"Why, I go to-morrow morning, you know," said Arlee. "And----"

"It would be better--because of the invitation," he said slowly,
hesitantly, with the air of one who does not wish to importune. "My
sister would like to ask for one who is known personally to herself.
She thought you could render her a few minutes this afternoon."

"This afternoon?" Arlee thought quickly. "I ought to be packing,"
she murmured, "my things aren't all ready.... And Mrs. Eversham is
at the bazaars again and dear knows when she will be back."

Just for an instant a spark burned in the black eyes watching the
girl, and then was gone, and when she raised her own eyes, perplexed
and considering, to him, she saw only the same courteously
attentive, but faintly indolent regard as before. Then the young man
smiled, with an air of frank amusement.

"That would seem to be a dispensation!" he laughed. "My sister and
the Madame Eversham--no, they would not be sympathetic!... But if
you can come," he went on quickly, leaning forward and speaking in a
hurried, lowered tone, "it can be arranged in an instant. I am to
telephone to my sister and she will send her car for you. It is not
far and it does not need but a few minutes for the visit--unless you
desire. I cannot escort you in the car--it is not _en r�gle_--but I
will come to the house and present you and then depart, that you
ladies may exchange the confidences.... Does that programme please
you?"

"I--I don't know your sister's name," said Arlee.

He smiled. "Nechedil Azade Seniha--she is the widow of Tewfik Pasha.
But say Madame simply to her--that will suffice. Shall I, then,
telephone her?"

Just an instant Arlee hesitated, while her imagination fluttered
about the thought like humming-birds about sweets. Already she was
thinking of the story she could have to tell to her fellow travelers
here and to the people at home. It was a chance, she repeated to
herself, in a thousand, and the familiar details of phones and
motors seemed to rob its suddenness of all strangeness.... Besides,
there was that matter of the Khedive's ball. It would be very
ungracious to refuse a few minutes' visit to a lady who was going to
so much trouble for her.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Thu 6th Feb 2025, 13:20