It must not take me long. You see me as I
am to-day because of a dreadful misfortune that befell me when I was
fifteen years old."
"My father was _Wali_ of Aleppo, and my mother, his third wife, was a
Frenchwoman, a member of a theatrical company which had come to Cairo,
where he had first seen her. She must have loved him, for she gave up
the world, embraced Islam and entered his _harem_ in the great house
on the outskirts of Aleppo. Perhaps it was because he, too, was half
French, that they were mutually attracted. My father's mother was a
Frenchwoman also, you understand.
"Until I was fifteen years of age, I never left the _harem,_ but my
mother taught me French and also a little English; and she prevailed
upon my father not to give me in marriage so early as is usual in the
East. She taught me to understand the ways of European women, and we
used to have Paris journals and many books come to us regularly. Then
an awful pestilence visited Aleppo. People were dying in the mosques
and in the streets, and my father decided to send my mother and myself
and some others of the _harem_ to his brother's house in Damaskus.
"Perhaps you will think that such things do not happen in these days,
and particularly to members of the household of a chief magistrate,
but I can only tell you what is true. On the second night of our
journey a band of Arabs swept down upon the caravan, overpowered the
guards, killing them all, and carried of everything of value which we
had.
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