The Palace of Darkened Windows by Mary Hastings Bradley


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Page 13

Arlee smiled in happy superiority over these mere outsiders. _She_
was not going about the beaten track, peeping at mosques and tombs
and bazaars and windows; she was penetrating into the real life of
this fascinating city, getting behind the grills and veils to
glimpse the inner secrets.

She thought, with a deepening of the sparkle in her blue eyes and a
defiant lifting of the pointed chin, of a certain sandy-haired young
Englishman and how wrong and reasonless and narrow and jealous were
his strictures upon her politeness to young Turks, and she thought
with a sense of vindicated pride of how thoroughly that nice young
man who had managed to introduce himself last night had endorsed her
views. Americans understood. And then her thoughts lingered about
Billy and she caught herself wondering just how much he did mean
about coming up the Nile again. For upon happening to meet Billy
that morning--Billy had devoted two hours and a half to the accident
of that happening!--he had joyously mentioned that he was trying to
buy out another man's berth upon that boat. It wasn't so much his
wanting to come that was droll--teasing sprites of girls with
peach-blossom prettiness are not unwonted to the thunder of pursuing
feet--but the frank and cheery way he had of announcing it. Not many
men had the courage of their desires. Not any men that little Miss
Arlee had yet met had the frankness of such courage. And because all
women love the adventurous spirit and are woefully disappointed in
its masculine manifestations, she felt a gay little eagerness which
she would have refused to own. It would be rather fun to see more of
him--on the Nile--while Robert Falconer was sulking away in Cairo.
And then when she returned she would surprise and confound that
misguided young Englishman with her unexpected--to him--presence at
the Khedive's ball. And after that--but her thoughts were lost in
haziness then. Only the ball stood out distinct and glittering and
fairylike.

Thinking all these brightly revengeful thoughts she had been
oblivious to the many turnings of the motor, though it had occurred
to her that they were taking more time than the car had needed to
appear, and now she looked out the window and saw that they were in
a narrow street lined with narrow houses, whose upper stories,
slightly projecting in little bays, all presented the elaborately
grilled fa�ades of _mashrubiyeh_ work which announced the barred
quarters of the women, the _haremlik_.

Arlee loved to conjure up a romantic thrill for the mysterious East
by reflecting that behind these obscuring screens were women of all
ages and conditions, neglected wives and youthful favorites, eager
girls and revolting brides, whose myriad eyes, bright or dull or gay
or bitter, were peering into the tiny, cleverly arranged mirrors
which gave them a tilted view of the streets. It was the sense of
these watching eyes, these hidden women, which made those screened
windows so stirring to her young imagination.

The motor whirled out of the narrow street and into one that was
much wider and lined by houses that were detached and separated,
apparently, by gardens, for there was a frequent waving of palms
over the high walls which lined the road. The street was empty of
all except an old orange vender, shuffling slowly along, with a
cartwheel of a tray on her head, piled with yellow fruit shining
vividly in the hot sun. The quiet and the solitude gave a sense of
distance from the teeming bazaars and tourist-ridden haunts, which
breathed of seclusion and aloofness.

The car stopped and Arlee stepped out before a great house of
ancient stone which rose sharply from the street. A high, pointed
doorway, elaborately carved, was before her, arching over a dark
wooden door heavily studded with nails. Overhead jutted the little
balconies of _mashrubiyeh_. She had no more than a swift impression
of the old fa�ade, for immediately a doorkeeper, very vivid in his
Oriental blue robes and his English yellow leather Oxfords, flung
open the heavy door.

Stepping across the threshold, with a sudden excited quickening of
the senses, in which so many things were mingled that the misgiving
there had scarcely time to make itself felt, Arlee found herself in
a spacious vestibule, marble floored and inlaid with brilliant tile.
She had just a glimpse of an inner court between the high arches
opposite, and then her attention was claimed by Captain Kerissen,
who sprang forward with a flash of welcome in his eyes that was like
a leap of palpable light.

"You are come!" he said, in a voice which was that of a man almost
incredulous of his good fortune. Then he bowed very formally in his
best military fashion, straight-backed from the waist, heels stiffly
together. "I welcome you," he said. "My sister is rejoiced.... This
stair--if you please."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Thu 6th Feb 2025, 18:41