the
curtain with Seleem's slave girl, and they did not know I heard them.
Omar described Janet, and was of the opinion that a man who was married
to her could want nothing more. 'By my soul, she rides like a Bedawee,
she shoots with the gun and pistol, and rows the boat; she speaks many
languages, works with the needle like an Efreet, and to see her hands run
over the teeth of the music-box (keys of piano) amazes the mind, while
her singing gladdens the soul. How then should her husband ever desire
the coffee-shop? _Wallahy_! she can always amuse him at home. And as to
my lady, the thing is not that she does not know. When I feel my stomach
tightened, I go to the divan and say to her, 'Do you want anything, a
pipe, or sherbet, or so and so?' and I talk till she lays down her book
and talks to me, and I question her and amuse my mind, and, by God! if I
were a rich man and could marry one English Hareem like that I would
stand before her and serve her like her memlook. You see I am only this
lady's servant, and I have not once sat in the coffee-shop because of the
sweetness of her tongue. Is it not therefore true that the man who can
marry such Hareem is rich more than with money?' Seleem seemed disposed
to think a little more of looks, though he quite agreed with all Omar's
enthusiasm, and asked if Janet were beautiful. Omar answered with
decorous vagueness that she was a 'moon,' but declined mentioning her
hair, eyes, etc. (it is a liberty to describe a woman minutely). I
nearly laughed out at hearing Omar relate his manoeuvres to make me
'amuse his mind'; it seems I am in no danger of being discharged for
being dull.

The weather has set in so hot that I have shifted my quarters out of my
fine room to the south-west into one with only three sides looking over a
lovely green view to the north-east, with a huge sort of solid veranda,
as large as the room itself, on the open side; thus I live in the open
air altogether. The bats and the swallows are quite sociable; I hope the
serpents and scorpions will be more reserved. '_El Khamaseen_' (the
fifty) has begun, and the wind is enough to mix up heaven and earth, but
it is not distressing like the Cape south-easter, and, though hot, not
choking like the Khamseen in Cairo and Alexandria. Mohammed brought me a
handful of the new wheat just now. Think of harvest in March and April!
These winds are as good for the crops here as a 'nice steady rain' is in
England.