eed of Renaissance Morals," returned
the lady, dryly.

"Is she so very dreadful?" I asked in alarm. "The peignoir, I know--"

"Perhaps that has something to do with it."

"Then, for heaven's sake," said I, "dress her in drabs and greys and
subfusc browns. Cut off her hair and give her a row of buttons down the
back."

My friend's eyes sparkled.

"I am going," said she, "to have the day of my life tomorrow."

Carlotta had already gone to sleep, so Antoinette informed me, when the
results of Mrs. McMurray's shopping came home. I am glad she has early
habits. It appears she has spent a happy and fully occupied afternoon
over a pile of French illustrated comic papers in the possession of my
excellent housekeeper.

I wonder whether it is quite judicious to make French comic papers her
initiation into the ideas of Western civilisation. Into this I must
inquire. I must also talk seriously to her with a view to her ultimate
destiny. But as my view would be distorted by the red dressing-gown, I
shall wait until she is decently clad. I think I shall have to set apart
certain hours of the day for instructive conversation with Carlotta.
I shall have to develop her mind, of which she distinctly has the
rudiments. For the rest of the day she must provide entertainment out of
her own resources. This her oriental habits of seclusion will render an
easy task, for I will wager that Hamdi Effendi did not concern himself
greatly as to the way in which the ladies of his harem filled up their
time. And now I come to think of it, he certainly did not allow Carlotta
to sprawl about his own private and particular drawing-room. I will
not westernise her too rapidly. The Turkish educational system has its
merits.

This, in its way is comforting. If only I could accept her as a human
creature. But when I think of her callous reception of the tidings of
the unhappy boy's death, my spirit fails me. Such a being would run a
carving-knife into you, as you slept, without any compunction, and when
you squeaked, she would laugh. Look at her base ingratitude to the good
Hamdi Effendi, who took her in before she was born and has treated her
as a daughter all her life. No: her spiritual attitude all through has
been that of the ladies who used to visit St. Anthony--in the leisure
moments when they were not actively engaged in temptation. I don't
believe her father was an English vice-consul. He was Satan.

I wonder what she told Mrs. McMurray.