about was to prolong my visit as much as possible. Mohammed told me their charming names. These were, Kondjé-Gul, Hadidjé, Nazli, and Zouhra. He, like a proud father, was not backward in praising their beauty, and I joined in chorus with him, and certainly succeeded in flattering him by my enthusiasm regarding them.

Indeed, all four of them were of such striking beauty, and yet so different in type, that you might have thought them grouped together in order to form the most ravishing picture, their large dark eyes, sweet, timid, and languishing like the gazelle's, with that Oriental expression which we do not meet with in these climes; lips which disclosed pearly teeth as they smiled; and complexions which have been preserved by the veil from the sun's rays, and which—according to the ancient simile—appeared really to be made up of lilies and roses. In those rich costumes of silk or of Broussan gauze, with their harmonious colours, revealing the forms of their hips and of their bosoms, they exhibited attitudes and movements of feline lissomness and exotic grace, the voluptuous languor of which can only be realised by those who have seen it in Mussulman women. I imagined myself the hero of an Arabian story, and mad fancies entered my brain.

While I was endeavouring, for appearance's sake, to talk with their father as well as I could, they, growing tamer by degrees, began to whisper together—now and then came a little burst of laughter, in which I seemed to detect some mischief. I playfully responded by holding up my finger to let them know I guessed their thoughts, and again they burst out laughing like sly children—this going on until, after half an hour or so, quite a nice feeling of familiarity was established between us; we talked by signs, and our eyes enabled us almost to dispense with the laborious intervention of Mohammed's interpretations. Moreover, he seemed delighted to see us frolicking in this way.

In order to teach them my name I pronounced several times the word "André." They understood and tried in their turn to make me say their names. Hadidjé's was the occasion of much laughter, by reason of my difficulty in articulating the guttural breathing. Seeing that I could not manage it, she held me by both hands, her face almost touching mine, and shouted "Hadidjé!" I repeated it, "Hadidjé!" This was charming and intoxicating. I had to take the same lesson from each of them; but when it came to the turn of Kondjé-Gul, it was a delirium of joy. By some chance she let slip a word of Italian. I questioned her in this language, and found she knew it pretty well. You may imagine my delight! Immediately we overwhelmed each other with a torrent of questions. Her sisters watched us with looks of amazement.

At this moment a Greek servant came in, followed by two other women, bringing in the dinner on trays, which they laid upon small low tables of ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

Propriety and good breeding impelled me to take my leave after this very long visit, and I prepared to do so. Upon this my young friends murmured out a concert of confused words, in which I seemed to detect regret at my departure. Fortunately His Excellency intervened by inviting me to stay to dinner with them.

Need I tell you that I accepted!

I sat down on the carpet, as they did, with my legs crossed, and we commenced a delicious banquet. Champagne was brought in for me, an attention which I appreciated. My place was next to Nazli; on my left was Kondjé-Gul, and opposite me, Hadidjé and Zouhra. I will not tell you what dishes were served, my thoughts were set elsewhere.

"How old art thou?" asked Kondjé-Gul, employing in her Italian, which was tinctured with Roumanian, the Turkish form of address.

"Twenty-six," said I, "and how old art thou?"

"Oh, I shall soon be eighteen." This "thouing" of each other was charming. She then told me the ages of the others. Hadidjé was the eldest, she was nineteen: Nazli and Zouhra were between seventeen and eighteen, the age of fresh maturity among the daughters of the East, who ripen earlier than ours. Our gaiety and the prattle of their voices went on without cessation; but as they were drinking nothing but water, I said to Kondjé-Gul, thoughtlessly,

"Won't you taste the wine of France?"

At this proposition she gave such a scared little look that the others asked her to explain what I had said. This caused a great excitement, followed by a discussion in which the father took part. I was beginning to fear that I had given offence to them, when His Excellency at last said a few words which seemed to be decisive. Then Kondjé-Gul, blushing all the while, and hesitating with divine gracefulness, took up my glass and drank—first with a little grimace like a kitten trying strange food, so droll and amusing was it; then, later on, with an air of satisfaction so real that all of them burst out laughing.

By Jove, I must say that at this frank abandonment I felt my heart beat just as if her lips had touched my own in a kiss. Imagine what became of me when Zouhra, Nazli, and Hadidjé held out their hands all at the same time to claim my glass. They passed round the glass and drank, and I after them, perturbed by emotions impossible to describe. This unconstraint varied with bashful reserve, these fascinating scruples, which they overcame one after another, fearing no doubt to offend me by refusing things which they thought were French customs; all their little ways in fact stimulated me, ravished me, and yet daunted me at times so much that I dare no longer brave their looks—although the presence of their father was a sufficient guarantee of the innocent character of these familiarities.

When the meal was over, the same Greek servants cleared the tables. Night-time arrived and they lighted the chandeliers. Through the closed shutters there came to us perfumes of myrtle and lilac. Cigarettes were brought: Zouhra took one, lighted it, and after drawing a few mouthfuls, offered it to me. I abandoned myself to their caprices.

Now, Louis, can you picture your friend luxuriously reclining on cushions, and surrounded by these four daughters of Mahomet's Paradise, in their lovely sultana's costumes, frolicking and prattling, and all four of them so beautiful that I don't know which I should have presented with the apple if I had been Paris? I assure you, it required an effort to convince myself that all this was real. After a little while I noticed that Mohammed Azis was no longer present; but thanks to Kondjé-Gul, who had quite become my interpreter, our conversation became brisk and general. Hadidjé taught me a Turkish game which is played with flowers, and which I won't try to describe to you, as I hardly understood it.

If I were to tell you all that happened that evening, I should be relating a story of giddy madness and intoxication. I taught them in return the game of "hunt the slipper;" you know it, don't you? We played it as follows: there was a ribbon knotted at both ends, which we held, sitting on the floor in a circle, and on which slips a ring, which one of the players must seize in his hands. This, upon my word, finished me up. What laughter, and what merry cries! Each of them, caught in her turn, chose me of course as her mark. Every moment I found myself seized and held prisoner in their naked, snowy arms. Upon my soul, it was maddening!

It was nearly midnight when His Excellency returned. I had lost all reckoning of the time; now I felt I must really make off. While I was getting ready and saying a few words to Kondjé-Gul, Mohammed Azis spoke to Zouhra, Nazli, and Hadidjé. I fancied that he was questioning them, and that they replied in the negative. Then he spoke at greater length to Kondjé-Gul; he appeared to me to be pressing her to give him an account of my conversation with her, and that the result did not please him. I was annoyed with myself at the thought that, maybe, I had been the cause of her being reprimanded. At last he certainly ordered them to retire, for they came