t the others
asked her to explain what I had said. This caused a great excitement,
followed by a discussion in which the father took part. I was beginning
to fear that I had given offence to them, when His Excellency at last
said a few words which seemed to be decisive. Then Kondje-Gul, blushing
all the while, and hesitating with divine gracefulness, took up my glass
and drank--first with a little grimace like a kitten trying strange
food, so droll and amusing was it; then, later on, with an air of
satisfaction so real that all of them burst out laughing.

By Jove, I must say that at this frank abandonment I felt my heart beat
just as if her lips had touched my own in a kiss. Imagine what became of
me when Zouhra, Nazli, and Hadidje held out their hands all at the same
time to claim my glass. They passed round the glass and drank, and I
after them, perturbed by emotions impossible to describe. This
unconstraint varied with bashful reserve, these fascinating scruples,
which they overcame one after another, fearing no doubt to offend me by
refusing things which they thought were French customs; all their little
ways in fact stimulated me, ravished me, and yet daunted me at times so
much that I dare no longer brave their looks--although the presence of
their father was a sufficient guarantee of the innocent character of
these familiarities.

When the meal was over, the same Greek servants cleared the tables.
Night-time arrived and they lighted the chandeliers. Through the closed
shutters there came to us perfumes of myrtle and lilac. Cigarettes were
brought: Zouhra took one, lighted it, and after drawing a few mouthfuls,
offered it to me. I abandoned myself to their caprices.

Now, Louis, can you picture your friend luxuriously reclining on
cushions, and surrounded by these four daughters of Mahomet's Paradise,
in their lovely sultana's costumes, frolicking and prattling, and all
four of them so beautiful that I don't know which I should have
presented with the apple if I had been Paris? I assure you, it required
an effort to convince myself that all this was real. After a little
while I noticed that Mohammed Azis was no longer present; but thanks to
Kondje-Gul, who had quite become my interpreter, our conversation became
brisk and general. Hadidje taught me a Turkish game which is played with
flowers, and which I won't try to describe to you, as I hardly
understood it.

If I were to tell you all that happened that eve