; I must send him a
present from England. As to Hekekian Bey, he is absolutely the Good
Samaritan, and these Orientals do their kindnesses with such an air of
enjoyment to themselves that it seems quite a favour to let them wait
upon one. Hekekian comes in every day with his handsome old face and a
budget of news, all the gossip of the Sultan and his doings. I shall
always fancy the Good Samaritan in a tarboosh with a white beard and very
long eyes. I am out of bed to-day for the second time, and waiting for a
warm day to go out. Sally saw the illuminations last night; the Turkish
bazaar she says was gorgeous. The Sultan and all his suite have not
eaten bread here, all their food comes from Constantinople. To-morrow
the Mahmaal goes--think of my missing that sight! _C'est desclant_.

I have a black slave--a real one. I looked at her little ears wondering
they had not been bored for rings. She fancied I wished them bored (she
was sitting on the floor close at my side), and in a minute she stood up
and showed me her ear with a great pin through it: 'Is that well, lady?'
the creature is eight years old. The shock nearly made me faint. What
extremities of terror had reduced that little mind to such a state. She
is very good and gentle, and sews quite nicely already. When she first
came, she tells me, she thought I should eat her; now her one dread is
that I should leave her behind. She sings a wild song of joy to
Maurice's picture and about the little Sitt. She was sent from Khartoum
as a present to Mr. Thayer, who has no woman-servant at all. He fetched
me to look at her, and when I saw the terror-stricken creature being
coarsely pulled about by his cook and groom, I said I would take her for
the present. Sally teaches her, and she is very good; but now she has
set her whole little black soul upon me. De Leo can give no opinion as
to what I ought to do, as he knows little but Egypt, and thinks England
rather like Norway, I fancy. Only don't let me be put in a dreadful
mountain valley; I hear the drip, drip, drip of Eaux Bonnes in bad dreams
still, when I am chilly and oppressed in my sleep. I'll write again
soon, send this to Alick, please.

April 13, 1863: Sir Alexander Duff Gordon

_To Sir Alexander Duff Gordon_.

CAIRO,
_April_ 13, 1863.

DEAREST