Shrouded once more in habbarah and face-veil, they stood and watched the crowd of buildings faint with sunshine, seeming diaphanous between the sapphire sky and a blue sea that looked opaque as lapis lazuli. A gaily coloured people thronged the quays and crossed the harbour in innumerable little boats. A din as rousing as a clarion call, composed of many simple noises, filled the sunlight. The girls, exhilarated, danced on tiptoe as they waited for the word to go ashore. They chattered like small birds, inconsequently, and every minute interjected “Praise to Allah!” Barakah inclined to silence, though she shared their rapture.
The face-veil, which she had not worn for many weeks, seemed strange at first. It gave the sense of prying and slight mischief one has in peeping over a forbidden wall. Her eyes above it seemed more penetrating. She turned them from the crowd on shore to follow Yûsuf’s movements. He was now himself again, correct and dignified, commanding as of right, entirely rehabilitated in her good opinion. It seemed to her that the contempt she had so lately felt for him was undeserved. Sinking in a strange element, he had lost his head and for a moment clung to her. The case had been her own at first in Egypt. A minute previous she had said goodbye to Hâfiz, Izz-ud-dîn, and Saïd. It was curious to know that though they would be dwelling near her in the city, meeting Yûsuf daily, she would very likely never see them in this world again. But the prospect did not sadden her at all. Shade and seclusion seemed just then the highest good.
Having spoken their polite farewells, Yûsuf and his companions took no further notice of the group of veiled ones. Ghandûr had been deputed to look after them. He ushered them on shore, and sat beside the driver of the carriage which conveyed them to the railway station, praising Allah all the while and weeping tears of joy. In Barakah’s absence, he declared repeatedly, there had been no breeze in Egypt nor any spot of shade for man’s repose. He found them their reserved compartment in the train, and supplied their many needs, procuring sweets, chickpeas, pistachio nuts, and hard-boiled eggs from venders on the platform, as well as two large porous jars of drinking-water. The girls asked Allah to take note how good he was, and called him brother.
The dazzle and intoxication of great light remained with them even when the door was shut and they were in warm shade. The sunlight here was not like that of Paris, a thing to stare at, but a blinding glory. It danced in flakes of all the colours of the rainbow, making the buildings and the people pale and ghostlike. The very heat which soon reigned in their moving box, the very dust which drifted through its shutters, were welcome, being heat and dust of Egypt; and at the stations, when familiar cries were heard, the speech of true believers built upon the name of Allah, the girls could not contain their sentiments, but bounced upon the seats and shrieked for joy.
“Hear what I am going to do, by Allah’s leave,” cried Bedr. “Immediately on my arrival at the palace, before seeing anyone, I shall go to the hammam and make our old bellânah scrub and knead me till every vestige of the dust of Paris is abolished. Then she shall dye my hands and feet with henna and shall kohl my eyes and eyebrows—if we had not been forbidden to take kohl to Paris, our men would not have left us as they did—and then I shall stretch myself like a sleek cat and looking at my pretty hennaed toes, shall say, ‘I seek refuge in Allah from the abomination of the infidels.’ That done, and being dressed in my most splendid robes, I shall present myself before my ladies, and shall lie to them; declaring that I was most happy there in Paris, that Hâfiz Bey refused to leave me for a single instant. The ladies will not doubt me, seeing my great beauty, and Hâfiz Bey, you may be sure, will not deny my story. Thus shall I gain more favour in his eyes, and make his wife—the proud one!—wish that she had gone instead of me. What say you?”
“By Allah, we will do the same in all respects!” her companions cried delightedly. “But what of Barakah? Promise, O Barakah, to hide the truth from the harem!”
Barakah promised; when they made her swear to love them always, though they were but slave-girls and she a dignified and noble lady, for the sake of the misfortunes they had borne together. They all clung round her when the train reached Cairo. The door of their compartment was flung open by Sawwâb in person, grinning welcome, with other eunuchs close behind him on the platform.
Sawwâb conducted Barakah with honour to the harem carriage, entering which she was hugged breathless by the lady Fitnah, while Leylah Khânum and her daughters started chattering, telling her all the news at once and in a single breath.
Gulbeyzah had been married a whole month. She was absent in the country with her lord’s whole house, but would return, it was expected, in a week or two. Had Barakah heard in Europe—no doubt she had—that the Sea Canal was to be opened in the coming year, with great festivities?—the King and Queen of France were coming, it was rumoured. Murjânah Khânum had been far from well. That was why she had not come to welcome Barakah, to whom she sent her warmest salutations. Barakah was not going to the garden-house this time, but to the Pasha’s palace, to remain with them, the praise to Allah! Fitnah herself
