an anxious look.

"That I will not remain here?" I replied. "What do you mean?"

"Why, Your Excellency has not expressed his will to any of them."

"My will! What will, then, could I express to them?"

"Considering that they belong to your lordship," he continued.

"They belong to me? Who?"

"Why, Kondje-Gul, Zouhra, Hadidje, Nazli."

"They belong to me?" replied I, overcome with stupefaction.

"Certainly," said Mahommed, looking as astonished as I did. "His
Excellency, Barbassou-Pasha, your uncle, whose eunuch I had the honour
of being, commanded me to purchase four maidens for his harem. Since he
is dead, and your lordship takes his place as master--I had supposed--"

"Ah!!!"

I won't attempt to render for you the full force of the exclamation to
which I gave vent. You may guess the feelings conveyed in it. In very
truth I thought I should go out of my senses this time. The dream of
"The Thousand and One Nights" was being realised in my waking hours!
This extraordinary and sumptuous palace was a harem, and this harem was
mine! These four Scheherazades, whose glorious youthfulness and
fascinating charms had scorched me like fire, they were my slaves, and
only awaited a sign or token of my desire!

Mohammed, incapable of conceiving my agitation, regarded me with a
pitiful, confused look, as if he anticipated some disgrace. At this
moment the old Greek woman brought him the keys: there were four. He
handed them to me.

"Thank you," I said; "now you may leave me."

He obeyed, saluted me without a word, and went out.

As soon as I found myself alone, not intending to restrain my feelings
any more, I began to march about the drawing-room like a madman, and
gave free vent to the outburst of a joy which overwhelmed me. I picked
up from the carpet a ribbon dropped there by Kondje-Gul, I pressed it to
my lips with avidity; next some scattered flowers, with which Hadidje
and Zouhra had played.

Louis, I hope you do not expect me to analyse for your benefit all the
extraordinary sensations which I experienced at that moment. The events
which befel me verged upon the supernatural--the supernatural cannot be
described--and I know not any legend, romance, or novel, relating to
this world, which has ever treated such an astounding situation as that
of which I was the hero. Those severe middle-class parents who give
their daughters, for New Year's presents, M. Galland's "Arabian Nights,"
with illustrations of the am