ollected. When I come to a
decision, I will impart it to you alone, and from that moment you shall
have over me the authority of a father."
At these words the worthy Yusuf, his eyes wet with tears, placed his left
hand over my head, and the first two fingers of the right hand on my
forehead, saying:
"Continue to act in that way, my dear son, and be certain that you can
never act wrongly."
"But," I said to him, "one thing might happen, Zelmi might not accept
me."
"Have no anxiety about that. My daughter loves you; she, as well as my
wife and her nurse, sees you every time that we dine together, and she
listens to you with pleasure."
"Does she know that you are thinking of giving her to me as my wife?"
"She knows that I ardently wish you to become a true believer, so as to
enable me to link her destiny to yours."
"I am glad that your habits do not permit you to let me see her, because
she might dazzle me with her beauty, and then passion would soon have too
much weight in the scale; I could no longer flatter myself that my
decision had been taken in all the unbiased, purity of my soul."
Yusuf was highly delighted at hearing me speak in that manner, and I
spoke in perfect good faith. The mere idea of seeing Zelmi caused me to
shudder. I felt that, if I had fallen in love with her, I would have
become a Mussulman in order to possess her, and that I might soon have
repented such a step, for the religion of Mahomet presented to my eyes
and to my mind nothing but a disagreeable picture, as well for this life
as for a future one. As for wealth, I did not think it deserved the
immense sacrifice demanded from me. I could find equal wealth in Europe,
without stamping my forehead with the shameful brand of apostasy. I cared
deeply for the esteem of the persons of distinction who knew me, and did
not want to render myself unworthy of it. Besides, I felt an immense
desire to obtain fame amongst civilized and polite nations, either in the
fine arts or in literature, or in any other honourable profession, and I
could not reconcile myself to the idea of abandoning to my equals the
triumph which I might win if I lived amongst them. It seemed to me, and I
am still of the same opinion, that the decision of wearing the turban
befits only a Christian despairing of himself and at the end of his wits,
and fortunately I was lost not in that predicament. My greatest objection
was to spend a year in Adrianople to learn a language
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