ed delighted to see us frolicking in this way.

In order to teach them my name I pronounced several times the word
"Andre." They understood and tried in their turn to make me say their
names. Hadidje'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 "Hadidje!" I repeated it, "Hadidje!" This was charming and
intoxicating. I had to take the same lesson from each of them; but when
it came to the turn of Kondje-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 Kondje-Gul, and opposite me, Hadidje and Zouhra. I will not tell you
what dishes were served, my thoughts were set elsewhere.

"How old art thou?" asked Kondje-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. Hadidje 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 Kondje-Gul, thoughtlessly,

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

At this proposition she gave such a scared little look tha