"
She fashioned into a fan the _Matin_ newspaper, which I had
bought for the luxurious purpose of not reading, and fanned me.
"That is what Ayesha used to do to Hamdi. And Ayesha used to
tell him stories. But my lord does not like his slave's stories."
"Decidedly not," said I.
I have heard much of Ayesha, a pretty animal organism who appears
to have turned her elderly husband into a doting fool. I am
beginning to have a contempt for Hamdi Effendi.
"They are what you call improper, eh?" she laughed, referring to
the tales. "I will sing you a Turkish song which you will not
understand."
"Is it a suitable song?"
"Kim bilir--who knows?" said Carlotta.
She began a melancholy, crooning, guttural ditty; but broke off
suddenly.
"Oh! but it is stupid. Like the Turkish dancing. Oh,
everything in Alexandretta was stupid! Sometimes I think I have
never seen Alexandretta--or Ayesha--or Hamdi. I think I always
am with you."
This must be so, as of late she has spoken little of her harem
life; she talks chiefly of the small daily happenings, and
already we have a store of common interests.
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