f. He had at least guessed that she loved
me, and that I was an obstacle to the attainment of his desires. He was
following up his object. He wished to destroy Kondje-Gul's hopes in
advance, by showing her that I was engaged to marry another.

With my present certitude of his mean devices, I began to wonder whether
everything had been already let out through slips of the tongue made by
Madame Murrah, in the course of those interviews which he had obtained
with her either by chance or by appointment. For several days past I
fancied I had remarked in him an increased reserve of manner. It was
possible that, being convinced now of the futility of his hopes, his
only object henceforth was to revenge himself on his rival by at least
disturbing his feeling of security.

Yes! you are quite right: I love her! Why should you imagine I would
wish to deny it, or dissemble it as a weakness? Did I ever tell you that
the consequence of indulgence in the pleasures of harem loves would be
to drown the heart, the soul, and the aspirations towards the ideal for
the sole advantage of the senses? Where you seem to see the defeat of
one vanquished, I find the triumph of my happiness and the enchantment
of a dream which I am realizing during my waking hours. Compare with
this secret and charming bond of union which attaches me to Kondje-Gul,
the prosaic and vulgar character of those common intrigues which one
cynically permits the whole world to observe, or of those illicit
connections which the hypocritical remnant of virtue with us constrains
us to conceal, like crimes, in the darkness. Deceptive frenzies they
are, the enjoyment of which always involves of necessity the degradation
of the woman and the contempt of the lover! You may preach and dogmatise
as much as you like in your endeavours to uphold the superiority of our
habits over those of the East, which you declare to be barbarous; you
will never succeed in doing anything more than entangling yourself in
your own paradox.

The fact is that in the refined epoch, so-called, in which we live,
every description of non-legitimized union in love becomes a
libertinage, and the woman who abandons herself to it becomes a profane
idol. Whether she be a duchess, or a foolish maid, you may write verses
over her fall, but you cannot forget it. The worm is in the fruit. My
love for Kondje-Gul knows no such shame, and needs no guilty excuses.
Proud of her slavish submission, she can love me wi