to the vulgar; the physiologist, with
his more special knowledge, discovers quite a series of concealed
revelations in the innermost recesses of that pretty sphinx which
constitutes God's masterpiece, and which we call woman. In the same way
grace is always the result of the harmony of lines; from the slightest
outline, from the position of a dimple, or the tension of a smile, from
a glance, or from the most transient gesture, one can always trace the
origin of a feeling, and lay bare the mind. Thus, at this moment, I
behold Hadidje leave the water, and saunter quietly in the direction of
Nazli and Zouhra, who are reclining on cushions and smoking cigarettes.
By the air of indifference that she affects I could wager that she
contemplates playing them some trick!

And indeed, when close to the smokers, she suddenly shook her hair. The
two others jumped up under the spray of sparkling water, and ran after
her, beating her with their fans and fly-flaps.

Kondje-Gul, the heedless beauty, who is rocking herself in her hammock
beside me, scarcely raises her lazy head to follow them with a glance,
at the sound of their cries and laughter. Since her name is at the end
of my pen, I will begin my series of portraits with her.

Kondje-Gul is a Circassian by race. Her name in Turkish signifies a
variety of rose which we are not acquainted with in France; she was
brought when quite a child to Constantinople by her mother, attached to
the service of a cadine of the Sultan. She is now eighteen. Imagine the
Caucasian type in the flower of its beauty, tall, with the figure of a
young goddess, an expression of natural indolence which appears to
indicate a consciousness of her sovereign beauty, and a fine head
crowned with thick chestnut hair falling down to her waist. Her features
are clean cut, and of a remarkably pure type. Large brown eyes with
heavy eyelids, imparting a languishing expression; lips somewhat
sensual, which from her habit of carrying her head erect, she seems
always to be holding out for a kiss; a mixture of Greek beauty with a
strange sort of grace peculiar to this Tcherkessian race, which still
remains a trifle savage. All these characteristics make up an _ensemble_
both exotic and marvellous, which I could no more describe to you than I
could explain the scent of the lily. Of a loving and tender nature, she
exhibits the disposition of a child in whom ardent impulses are united
with a profound gentleness of sentime