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If the philosophy of the
excellent aphorist is sound, I certainly have not much wisdom to
boast of; and none of the big books will tell me what a wise man
would have done had he met Carlotta in the Embankment Gardens.
I did not think, however, that my wisdom was a proper subject for
discussion. I jerked back the conversation by asking Carlotta
why she called Hamdi Effendi a shocking bad man. Her reply was
startling.
"My mother told me. She used to cry all day long. She was sorry
she married Hamdi."
"Poor thingl" said I. "Did he ill-treat her?"
"Oh, ye-es. She had small-pox, too, and she was no longer
pretty, so Hamdi took other wives and she did not like them.
They were so fat and cruel. She used to tell me I must kill
myself before I married a Turk. Hamdi was going to make me marry
Mohammed Ali one--two years ago; but he died. When I said I was
so glad" (that seems to be her usual formula of acknowledgment of
news relating to the disasters of her acquaintance), "Hamdi shut
me up in a dark room.


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