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 LADY BLUEBEABD
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 ZIT AND XOE: 
 
 Their Early Experiences. 
 
 Preprinted from ' Blackwood's Magazine.'' 
 
 Second Edition. Crown 8vo, price One Shilling. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON 'ZIT AND XOE. 1 
 
 "The story of that early courtship in the morning of the world would not 
 be easy to match for brightness and colour." — St James's Gazette. 
 
 " A cleverly conceived and admirably written little story." — Daily News. 
 
 "Graceful, spirituel, and amusing from end to end." — Morning Post. 
 
 " A simplicity and quiet humour that afford capital entertainment 
 
 Exceedingly droll and amusing." — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " A very amusing book." — Academy. 
 
 "Full of tender touches and genial humour. A dainty epitome of man's 
 
 joys and troubles, fears and hopes One of those little books that, while 
 
 they amuse, leave the reader also for the time with kindlier and braver 
 thoughts of his kind." — Pioneer. 
 
 "Admirably told. From first to last it is thoroughly interesting."— Scots- 
 man. 
 
 " So cleverly conceived that it will be read not only with amusement but 
 with admiration for the unknown author's powers of imagination and de- 
 scription."— Scottish News. 
 
 " Zit tells the story of his wooing very prettily."— Vanity Fair. 
 
 "A delicious skit." — Bradford Observer. 
 
 "Freshness both in idea and treatment."— Globe. 
 
 "The descriptions of the scenery are excellent, and there are at times 
 humorous turns of phrases and odd situations which make the story a tak- 
 ing one." — Nottingham Guardian. 
 
 " Written in an exceedingly clever and entertaining style."— Northern Whig. 
 
 " Most amusing and clever." — Literary World. 
 
 "A delicious picture An exceedingly clever work." — Glasgoiv Herald. 
 
 " Described with a quiet sense of fun and an unconsciousness of its ab- 
 surdities that is quite delightful Quaint, delicately humorous, and 
 
 poetical." — Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News. 
 
 "An amusing story." — Liverpool Courier. 
 
 " Very subtle and pleasant." — Army and Navy Gazette. 
 
 ' ' Undiminished humour and beauty A tale such as only ' Blackwood ' 
 
 gives, and not too often, overflowing with extravagance and poetry, wit and 
 humour." — Illustrated London News. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SOXS, Edinburgh and London.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD 
 
 AUTHOR OF <ZIT AND XOE 
 
 IX TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AXD LONDON 
 
 MDCCCLXXXVIII
 
 [The welcome given to my little venture, ' Zit and Xoe, ' 
 when it was reprinted from ' Blackwood's Magazine,' has 
 tempted me to try fortune again with a longer story, which 
 recently appeared, in a slightly different form, in the 
 columns of 'The Times of India.' To the proprietor of 
 that journal I now beg to tender my thanks for the right 
 of republication.]
 
 '41 i 
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I came across her first in the oddest corner of the 
 
 v world yon can possibly imagine — in the Garden of 
 
 Eden, the veritable Garden of Eden, a dank desolate 
 
 - marsh, where the muddy waters of the Tigris and 
 
 Euphrates meet together. She was the brightest, 
 
 sunniest, most attractive woman I had ever seen. 
 
 Four strong men in sheepskin were carrying her over 
 
 k the mud. She wore a Terai hat coquettishly draped 
 
 with a pale pink veil, a white dress, and a white 
 
 muslin fichu. She was fanning herself lazily with a 
 
 big black fan. And had it not been for the fan and 
 
 • the fichu, there was something boyish as well as girlish 
 
 in her, too, as she rebuked her men, after she had been 
 
 vol. I. A
 
 2 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 gently set down, for attempting to help her over a 
 puddle. 
 
 She was blithesome and lithesome, with the grace- 
 ful easy gait of a goddess that only comes to beautiful 
 women. Her hair, too, was honey-coloured, just as 
 in the old Greek legends, and it had somehow slipped 
 down from under her hat and hung all over her shoul- 
 ders. I suddenly remembered where I was. She was 
 Eve, of course, and by-and-by I should see the apple 
 and the serpent. The situation began to be interest- 
 ing. I said nothing till she came close up. Then, 
 as she saw me, she started a little. A quick, faint 
 glow passed over her pale cheeks, and died away 
 again. But there was a glint in her soft, grey, mel- 
 ancholy eyes, as of flashing steel, when they first met 
 mine. 
 
 " Are they sawing that tree down at your bidding ? " 
 she asked, almost rudely. 
 
 " I have paid for it, madam," I replied, lifting my hat. 
 
 It was the Tree of Good and Evil. 
 
 A dear old fool of an uncle, to whom I am perhaps 
 more indebted than I quite like to realise, was respon- 
 sible for the absurd position I occupied at the moment. 
 He believed that Englishmen and Scotchmen (he was 
 Scotch himself) are direct descendants of the lost Ten 
 Tribes, and he was a devout disciple of an extremely 
 loud and vulgar gentleman who went about expound-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 3 
 
 ing this extraordinary theory to the working classes. 
 When I told him that I was off again on my travels, 
 this time to India and Thibetan Tartary via Asia 
 Minor, he gave me the cheque which I am ashamed 
 to say had been the primary object of my farewell 
 call. And then he asked me to look in at Kurnah, so 
 as to ascertain if the Tree of Good and Evil were still 
 standing there, as his old friend Mr Inche, of the 
 Tigris and Euphrates line of river-steamers, assured 
 him it was. 
 
 " Send it home, my boy," he said. " Let me show it, 
 with your own certificate written on the spot, at the 
 next meeting of the British Association, and I'll think 
 about doubling your allowance." 
 
 Naturally I am a man of few and modest wants. 
 But if my dear old uncle's money-making habits had 
 driven him half crazy, I could not yet afford to be al- 
 together crazy myself. Some of my creditors had been 
 absolutely rude during my last week in town, and as 
 my journey had now, from no fault of my own, sud- 
 denly assumed the form of a pilgrimage, I got into a 
 comfortable sleeping-carriage of the " Orient Express " 
 at Paris, determined to go straight on whatever 
 happened. 
 
 The old pilgrims, if history can be believed, which 
 is more than doubtful, used to boil the peas they put 
 in their shoes. With this thought in my mind, I had
 
 4 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 little or no difficulty in slipping a five-franc piece 
 into the guard's hand before starting. This secured 
 me three times as much room as I needed in the 
 sleeping-car, and the choice of all the dishes as they 
 came into the dining-saloon. The cuisine and the 
 wines were not at all bad. The cigarettes and French 
 novels I had laid in at Paris were exceptionally pun- 
 gent, and the climate, after a week in Bayswater, was 
 absurdly exhilarating. 
 
 Vienna, the pleasantest, and Buda Pesth the 
 naughtiest, city in Europe, I passed without a second 
 thought. At Varna I was just in time to catch the 
 Austro-Hungarian steamer for Constantinople ; and 
 there again, without even a glimpse of the blue path- 
 way of the Golden Horn, I hustled myself and my 
 traps into the Messageries boat for Alexandretta. At 
 Bagdad I stopped four days, thanks to a touch of 
 fever and the bruises inflicted by a succession of the 
 most self-opinionated camels it has ever been my bad 
 luck to throw leg across. But I had originally meant 
 to spend half a year there at least, painting a picture 
 of Ctesiphon as it was. 
 
 " Professor Owen, madam " (and here I addressed 
 my explanatory remarks more particularly to the lady 
 beside me, the lady with the melancholy mesmeric 
 eyes and impatient fan) — "Professor Owen had suc- 
 ceeded in reconstructing the Dinornis from the fossil-
 
 LADY BLUEBEAED. 5 
 
 ised fragment of one rib. The great arch at Ctesiphon 
 was, I knew, much bigger than that, and with the great 
 arch before me, surely I could paint Ctesiphon in all 
 its glory — a city more extensive perhaps than London 
 and Paris rolled together, and infinitely more pictur- 
 esque than either. When I had dreamt over this mag- 
 nificent scheme in my compact little house-boat off 
 Meclenham a month before, I could almost see, in 
 front of the great archway, the broad street of brass- 
 roofed houses peopled once again with the vigorous 
 life of sturdier times than ours. There they were, the 
 white-robed priests of the Sun and of the Moon ; men 
 of war bearing their bows unstrung, but equipped, man 
 and horse, in scaly armour of glittering steel ; trimly 
 bearded nobles in their flowing gowns of gold and 
 purple; troops of saucy singing -girls and dancing- 
 girls, crowned with flowers and diaphanously clad; 
 importunate vendors of date -wine and unleavened 
 cakes ; long files of weary camels, laden with fragrant 
 burdens, and slowly led by the impassible dwellers in 
 the desert; traders from the farthest corners of the 
 world; slaves and slave-girls of every hue, pale and 
 swarthy, bronze and black, from every region that 
 paid tribute to the mighty Parthian empire ; and 
 over all, the sound of the pipe and the sambuca, and 
 the full rich light of an oriental sun. What a past ! 
 But you sigh ? "
 
 6 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " No, I think I yawned," she said ; " go on." 
 
 " I will. I could hear the Magi chanting at sunset 
 and sunrise. I could hear the songs and laughter of 
 the ladies in their harems behind their gold and silver 
 panelled walls, and the loud shouts of revelry from 
 their lords below as they broached another wine-skin 
 or applauded some strange dancing-girl. And in the 
 far distance I could hear the murmur of universal 
 approval that greeted my first Academy picture." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Well ! As it was, I passed Ctesiphon complacently, 
 my two legs cocked up on the two arms of a long 
 Indian chair, and my attention more than divided by 
 a plateful of crushed pomegranate which Captain 
 Croly's boy just then brought out to me from the 
 saloon." 
 
 The Tree of Good and Evil fell with a crash, as I 
 tried to explain to my irate but fascinating companion 
 all the difficulties of a position in which Mammon had 
 too obviously got the better of Art. 
 
 She had, as you have seen, said little. But she had 
 shrugged her shoulders from time to time a trifle im- 
 patiently ; and when the old harridan, half Arab, half 
 Kurd, who lived in a hovel close to by selling twigs of 
 the sacred tree at a couple of piastres each, came out 
 to claim the exorbitant sum of two gold Mejideh, 
 which I had been weak enough to promise, my lady
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 7 
 
 with the bewitching fichu and flashing eyes coolly sat 
 down on its trunk. 
 
 " Your uncle must be a fool," she said ; " and if you 
 will permit me to be frank, it is not difficult to see 
 that you are the nephew of your uncle. The tree is 
 an ordinary ficus. That old hag, who, by the way she 
 is biting them, seems to be suspicious of your coins or 
 your uncle's, will only have to move her squalid little 
 shanty two or three hundred yards lower down to find 
 herself planted in the midst of a regular thicket of 
 Souses." 
 
 " There should be only one," I answered, venturing, 
 as the tree-trunk was really my own, to sit down be- 
 side her. 
 
 " That's exactly it," she said. " That's just why I 
 made the men carry me over the mud to have a look 
 at it. That's the worst of one's illusions. I have lost 
 many of mine" — and here she toyed for a moment 
 with her rings. " But ever since I was a little girl I 
 have believed in the Garden of Eden, and now you 
 and I are sitting upon all that's left of it." 
 
 "Take the log," I said, magniloquently. "It is 
 yours." 
 
 " And your uncle ? " she asked, the fierce look in 
 her eyes and the frown on her snowy forehead dying 
 softly away as if by magic. 
 
 " Oh, I will send him one from the thicket."
 
 8 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 She smiled. "You really have something in you 
 after all. Xever mind the whistle," she cried, as a 
 steamer on the river began to whistle most vocifer- 
 ously. "It is my steamer, not yours. I meant to 
 go to Europe via Bagdad. But the captain is a per- 
 fect brute ; there's not a soul on board to speak to ; 
 and I may as well return to India with you." 
 
 This was, to put it mildly, rather more than I bar- 
 gained for, and as the steamer gave what, from its in- 
 tense shrillness, could only be a final screech, I played 
 my trump card. 
 
 " Your luggage, madam," I said — " your luggage 
 and your things ! " 
 
 " Oh, Priscilla will see to them ! She's used to me. 
 I've no uncle, thank goodness ! and I always do as I 
 like. So, as soon as you are ready, have your tree 
 taken off to the steamer." 
 
 Captain Croly had very kindly lent me nearly half 
 his ship's crew of sturdy Armenians. They came from 
 Mount Lebanon, and did credit to its altitude, averaging 
 six foot six each in, or rather out of, their stockings. 
 They had retired discreetly when the lady suddenly 
 sat down. But now I signalled to them to advance, 
 and the tree was on board almost as soon as we were, 
 and a long time before her luggage. 
 
 Captain Croly, one of the most charming — albeit one 
 of the most taciturn — of companions a few hours be-
 
 LADY BLUEBEAED. 9 
 
 fore, when he was good enough to take me over Ezra's 
 Tomb, was far from courteous now. 
 
 " You are late, sir," he said. " You have kept the 
 steamer back. It was lucky for you that I could not 
 sail without my crew ! " 
 
 So much for me. Then, as, without noticing his re- 
 buke, I continued to help my fair companion up the 
 ladder, I distinctly heard him say a bad word to the 
 chief officer. 
 
 The lady in the fichu, however, promptly disengag- 
 ing herself from my attentions, had Captain Croly's 
 hat in his hand in a minute. 
 
 She was so sorry, she said ; but really it was no 
 fault of hers if the captain of the other steamer had 
 been boorish and stupid, and so evidently unused to 
 ladies' society that, no matter at what inconvenience, 
 she had suddenly determined to break up all her plans 
 — the plans of years — and throw herself upon the 
 mercy of the captain of the returning steamer. 
 
 Here she smiled sweetly, and Captain Croly, in his 
 way of it, gave a grim response. If there are two 
 steamers, the two captains, as in other walks in life, 
 are two rivals. Without a word to me, Captain Croly 
 handed her up to the capacious quarter-deck, and 
 before I could reach it myself, he sang out to the men 
 below to send a boat ashore at once for the lady's 
 luggage.
 
 10 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 The luggage came eventually, and with it a ferocious 
 big black female who answered to the name of Pris- 
 cilla. She obeyed her mistress's signals like a sheep- 
 dog. Once only did she look at me before she dis- 
 appeared behind a pile of luggage ; but that one quick 
 curious look almost curdled my blood. 
 
 " Go ahead ! Ease her ! Stop her ! " shouted Captain 
 Croly, and with a few more energetic ejaculations we 
 got safely out into the open stream. 
 
 Then we went down to dinner, everybody feeling a 
 little strange at first. She did the talking for us. But 
 when the well -kindled callian, all aglow with live 
 coals, was handed round to us at dessert, I was sur- 
 prised to find Captain Croly devoting less time than 
 usual to its soothing and fragrant breath. He handed 
 it over to me almost directly, and then, in reply to an 
 adroit question or two, he was good enough to tell us 
 about the four lions he had once shot in five minutes 
 on the river's banks, and about the whale that, having 
 drifted into the Shet-el-Arab, forged ahead exactly like 
 a steamer pressed for time. She was killed, poor thing, 
 not far from Bagdad, giving a shriek that went sob- 
 bing over the desert. This was, as I knew to my cost, 
 a painful and pathetic story ; and when Captain Croly's 
 crew had fairly got the hawser round the whale's tail, 
 our fair visitor rose, and with an almost imperceptible 
 shiver, bowed a courteous good night.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 11 
 
 The moon was shining so brightly when we reached 
 the quarter-deck, that Captain Croly stopped the 
 steamer for the night and moored her alongside the 
 bank. On dark starlit nights the navigation was easy 
 enough ; but the deep shadows cast by a bright moon 
 made it dangerous. This struck me as being odd at 
 the time, and I only mention it here for the benefit of 
 such of my readers as may not happen to have been 
 in those parts. As soon as the steamer was safely 
 moored, we lay down in our long chairs, pulling away 
 silently at our pipes. 
 
 " A curious lady that," said the skipper, as we parted 
 for the night. " Even my old woman would feel the 
 spell of her beauty. But I think my old woman 
 would say it was ' uncanny.' Did you ever see eyes 
 like hers ? She is going to India with you, I under- 
 stand ? Good night, sir — good night." 
 
 Then he wrung me warmly by the hand. 
 
 This was a long speech for Captain Croly, and the 
 sympathetic shake of the hand a novel experience 
 altogether.
 
 12 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The night was so cold that one could not possibly 
 sleep on deck, and my slumbers down below were 
 rudely broken by that wretched Tree of Good and 
 Evil. It filled one side of my cabin, and as the night 
 wore on, it assumed the weirdest and most monstrous 
 shapes. Now my lady of the fichu sat buoyantly upon 
 it. Now it creaked and groaned beneath the hercu- 
 lean form of her ayah. The soft depths of the mis- 
 tress's beautiful grey eyes lulled me to sleep. The 
 contemptuous warning in every look her servant gave 
 aroused me to a condition of the most wakeful revolt. 
 Unable to bear the contrast any longer, I threw my 
 resai off in a rage, and was on deck again before the 
 sun had risen. 
 
 A troop of little Arab girls from the encampment 
 just opposite were already swimming round the ship, 
 splashing each other merrily, and quite ready, so soon 
 as they saw me, to duck their picturesque heads into
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 13 
 
 the muddy river, that enveloped them almost as 
 completely as their discarded burnouses could have 
 done. 
 
 " Backsheesh ! backsheesh ! " they cried ; " have a 
 dive ! have a dive ! " 
 
 The same thing had happened at several of our halt- 
 ing-places, much to the disgust of one of our passen- 
 gers, a venerable and well-born Sheik, with whom I 
 had spent the pleasantest and most entertaining hours 
 of this somewhat tedious voyage. He had explained 
 to me, time after time, that an almost perfect system 
 of equality obtains between the members of each in- 
 dividual Arab tribe — though here, as elsewhere, age 
 and youth have their natural influence, and, as in any 
 English circle, the oldest men and youngest women 
 carry the day. But there are, he was careful to add, 
 tribes and tribes. Penury and comfort live cheek by 
 jowl, and in the silent stretches of desert sands, just 
 as in the roar and bustle of London, St James's and 
 St Giles's are side by side. 
 
 " Ah ! " he said, advancing slowly along the deck, 
 "you mustn't judge us with a stranger's eager eyes 
 from what you see. Hearsay evidence, bad as it is, is 
 never quite so bad as the evidence of first impressions. 
 There is, of course, a great deal we regret, but it is 
 mostly due to strangers like yourself, and your mis- 
 taken notions of generosity."
 
 14 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 I had got up so early that I felt inclined to argue 
 the question. 
 
 " Begging for alms," I retorted, my teeth still chat- 
 tering, " is a very old and very common failing, and 
 an almost international necessity." 
 
 " Not in Arabia," he answered, gravely. " You only 
 see it on the river's banks, and only amongst the more 
 degraded tribes. It has annoyed me intensely all the 
 way down to see how quick you were to notice how 
 those wretched little beggars in the water cried out, 
 * Backsheesh ! backsheesh ! ' whenever I happened to 
 be explaining our republican system of perfect inde- 
 pendence towards each other, and our hospitality to 
 all strangers." 
 
 I quite agreed with my white-bearded Sheik as to 
 the demoralising effects of indiscriminating alms- 
 giving, and at one time, indeed, I had myself been an 
 active member of the Charity Organisation Society. 
 But no sooner had the Sheik retired below in dudgeon 
 than I began to pitch out small silver coins to the 
 agile little divers, who contrived, somehow or other, to 
 pick them up long before the bottom was reached. I 
 had spent perhaps a quarter of an hour amusing my- 
 self in this way, when my money-bag was suddenly, but 
 very gently, taken out of my hand. A much more 
 formidable antagonist than the Sheik stood beside me. 
 
 " What would your uncle say," said my fair com-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 15 
 
 panion of the day before, "if he saw you making 
 ducks and drakes of his hard-earned money ? And, 
 indeed, even your uncle, with all his eccentricities, 
 wouldn't find that young person, with the coarse wet 
 hair in her eyes and a coin between her glistering 
 teeth, a very edifying spectacle." 
 
 " Her hair," I interposed, " is only in her eyes be- 
 cause all Arab girls and women wore their hair in a 
 fringe a thousand years before you European women 
 thought of it." 
 
 " Indeed, sir ! " she retorted, instinctively putting her 
 hand to her head ; " and perhaps you would like us to 
 go about in a river with a coin between our teeth. I 
 hold to what I said. Your uncle would not find that 
 swarthy Lurline of yours a very edifying spectacle. 
 I think I should like your Ctesiphon Eevived much 
 better than that. Don't you ? " 
 
 " It would have been grander," I answered ; " but 
 would it have been so natural ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " she said, " if you belong to the Naturalistic 
 school, I have done with you. But you don't mean to 
 say that you got up at this unearthly hour to see if 
 you could make those miserable little savages flounder 
 about for your two-anna pieces ? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it," I retorted, rather nettled. " Your 
 eyes and your maid's were at the bottom of my early
 
 16 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " My eyes and my maid's ! You really must be 
 gifted with a most extraordinary imagination. What 
 have my eyes and my maid's, as you call her, got to 
 do with you ? " 
 
 "They gave me a nightmare last night, that was 
 all — a nightmare strong enough to last till I ran away 
 from it." 
 
 " Oh, Priscilla must have frightened you," she said. 
 
 " Priscilla ? " 
 
 " Priscilla. Yes ; she had some outlandish name 
 when she came to me first, but if you had been as 
 much amused as I was with the wonderful characters 
 she brought me, you would have christened her Pris- 
 cilla too. Priscilla, the Puritan Maiden. Poor Pris- 
 cilla ! She is a faithful creature ; but she always 
 had an ugly knack of frightening people. All my 
 friends say she has a dour and diabolical look about 
 her. But I keep such a tight hand on her that I 
 never notice it myself. I could not sleep either, sir — 
 not because your beaux ycux vexed my slumbers, but 
 because I had changed my plans so suddenly that I 
 regretted the change before the other steamer was well 
 out of sight. So I came on deck to see the sun rise 
 over the desert, and there it is ! " 
 
 And there it was, just on the horizon, throwing out 
 broad bands of bright golden rays across the immeasur- 
 able stretches of the dull yellow desert that lay below,
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 17 
 
 and fringing, with every shade of amber and violet, 
 pink and purple, the low castellated banks of pearly 
 clouds and the cool grey sky above. At sunrise, at 
 sunset, and at midnight, when nothing breaks its rest- 
 ful and intense monotony, the fascination of the desert 
 is complete. 
 
 My companion sighed. " What a glimpse of Paradise 
 it gives one ! What a chance of solitude and forget- 
 fulness and oblivion ! I shall envy Lady Hester Stan- 
 hope every time I think of it." 
 
 Her eyes had a wistful far-away look in them as 
 she watched the rising sun. She leant her beautiful 
 arms on the bulwark. The broad sleeves of her 
 morning gown had fallen back. As I looked at her, 
 I thought she had forgotten my presence com- 
 pletely. 
 
 " You are an artist," she said abruptly, half turning 
 towards me ; " you are an artist, and for the moment 
 I was a poet ! But if we are to go to India together, 
 we cannot possibly continue to be he and she to our 
 servants and each other. Don't you think that, even 
 out of deference to Mrs Grundy, we ought to be formally 
 introduced ? Captain Croly is still in bed, so why 
 shouldn't we make that wonderful sun our god-papa ? 
 Mr Artist, Mrs Poet ! " 
 
 I wish I could put down on paper the inimitable 
 coquetry of her gracious little head as she raised it 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 from her tiny hands for a moment to bow sedately. 
 I entered into the spirit of her comedy at once. 
 
 " Mr Hector Hicks," I said, trying to mimic her, 
 " allow me to introduce you to, to, to " 
 
 " I like the Hector," she answered, quietly — " I 
 don't like the Hicks ; and perhaps that may account 
 for my mixed feelings towards you from the first. 
 Mr Hector Hicks, Lydia Fonblanque — Lydia to her 
 friends, and to you, sir, Mrs Fonblanque." 
 
 " What ! you are married ! " I cried. 
 
 " Not now," she answered, gravely. " I have been 
 married. But stop ! Look ! " 
 
 The sleepy Arab encampment directly in front of 
 us, from which the little truants had swam out, 
 began to show signs of active life. The curtains of 
 the low black tents were thrown aside as if by some pre- 
 concerted signal, and a swarm of little colts and little 
 children streamed into the open. Long-robed men 
 lounged about, giving brief orders, each with a spear 
 or a matchlock in his hands, each turbaned with 
 heavy wisps of camel's hair, but one and all standing 
 out against the clear morning sky like statuesque 
 silhouettes. The tents were deftly struck by some of 
 the women ; others hurriedly dispensed the morning 
 meal of camel's milk and dates and unleavened bread. 
 The boys, with shrill cries, drove the horses, mares, 
 and camels into marching order ; and before our ship
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 19 
 
 was fairly awake, the bustling noisy encampment had 
 become a silent caravan, just disappearing round one 
 of the reaches of the river. With it the fantastic 
 glamour over land and sky and river also died away. 
 The steamer, summoned to her senses by a shrieking 
 whistle, gave a quick throb of vitality ; and, common- 
 place tourists once more, Mrs Fonblanque and I 
 retired below to prepare ourselves for breakfast.
 
 20 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 When I came up again after breakfast, the river 
 scenery had completely changed, and I pushed my 
 deck chair well forward, so as to have a good long 
 look at it. The very sight of the densely wooded date- 
 gardens coming down to the water's edge on either 
 bank was an immense relief to my eyes after the 
 utter desolation of the desert. Green always is a 
 beautiful and grateful colour, and here I had it in a 
 hundred different tints. 
 
 " If I could," thought I, " but paint this striking 
 contrast, I should go far towards illustrating the true 
 nature of all sudden transitions." 
 
 And gradually, as I pulled at my pipe, I sketched 
 out in the smoke-clouds wreathing about me a fantastic 
 picture of Life and Death, the grandest transition of 
 any. Landscape scenery, however, is not everything, 
 and even to be properly felt, it must be judiciously 
 typified. For a fortnight I had, by land and river, 
 rushed breathlessly through a scorching desert, with
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 21 
 
 not even a stone the size of one's fist to break the 
 monotony of the sky-line. Now all the date-gardens 
 on the river's banks were teeming with industrious 
 life. The labourers sang — a trifle huskily, perhaps — 
 at their work ; dogs barked ; women gossipped ; the 
 shady grass-plot in front of every little hamlet of 
 cosy mud -huts w T as all alive with children, naked, 
 brown, and sunburnt ; cattle lowed, goats bleated, and 
 mares whinnied to their colts ; and in the far shadow 
 of these dark date-groves, long camel-caravans passed 
 silently, solemnly, and sedately to and fro. 
 
 " Oh, to find one type for this variety ! " cried I 
 to myself. And then, impatient at the narrow limit 
 put on human ingenuity, I wheeled my chair fiercely 
 round, and so came directly alongside of Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, who, without my suspecting it in the least, 
 sat there looking most intensely bored. "What a 
 contrast ! " I said to her. " Only a few hundred 
 yards away, and the desert impressive in its loneli- 
 ness, and almost appalling " 
 
 " Appalling, certainly," she answered ; " impressive, 
 no ! I know nothing of the desert — and may I add, 
 Mr Hicks, that I care as little ? I came up here to be 
 amused. Let us talk rationally." 
 
 "Certainly," I said, "and if you don't like the 
 desert, turn your head a little this way, and look at 
 that beautiful bit of green fertility to the left. The
 
 22 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 date-palm, according to the Arab proverb, must 
 always have her head in fire and her feet in water. 
 The blazing sun is the fire, of course ; and as for the 
 water, you see it in those labyrinths of canals and 
 little water-courses, passing from garden to garden 
 and from tree to tree. Honour the date-palm, for 
 she is your mother, said Mahomet " 
 
 "And you are really trying to amuse me with ra- 
 tional conversation ? " asked Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 "Yes, I am," I answered. "And I am trying to 
 show you that a tree, like a landscape, must be typified 
 before you can appreciate it justly. You remember 
 how Burke traced back the emotions most men feel, 
 when a new mountain-range comes suddenly in view, 
 to the childish recollections of a mother's fostering 
 bosom ? " 
 
 " I remember nothing of the sort," she said, curtly. 
 
 " No ! Nevertheless his theory still has its followers, 
 in spite of Sheridan's ill-natured question as to the 
 manly emotions of a child, brought up by hand, at the 
 unexpected display of a wooden spoon." 
 
 " That's much better," she replied. " Now that you 
 are talking about wooden spoons, you are quite your- 
 self again. But you really can't expect me to sit 
 listening to what you say Burke and Sheridan, and 
 Mahomet and the Arab proverbs, have said already. 
 Be a little original for a change, or, if you cannot be
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 23 
 
 original just now, talk about yourself. You say you 
 paint. Is there nothing else you do ? " 
 
 " I write sometimes." 
 
 " I am glad of that," she answered. " I am fond of 
 books, and the kind of men who write them are good 
 fellows at heart, once you get over their shyness. 
 Shyness or conceit, which is it ? Or are they one 
 and the same things as with crirls ? " 
 
 " Very likely they are," I said ; " for, judging from 
 the little I know of them, very young girls often show 
 much the same symptoms." 
 
 " That," she said, " means poetry. But no man 
 should ever be allowed to write a novel before he is 
 forty, and no woman before she is twenty-five." 
 
 In this easy way she drew me out. From my own 
 little ventures we came to talk of the grand names 
 that mark an epoch. And I began to stare at her, 
 almost too openly, when some shrewd fragment of 
 suggestive criticism showed that she understood the 
 spirit of our own classical authors better than I did 
 myself, and was very much more at home than I 
 was with the modern German and Eussian schools of 
 romance. 
 
 It was a trifle too much, though, to have all manner 
 of outlandish names flun^ in the face of one's own 
 mediocrity, and I retorted with a catalogue raisonne' of 
 the great English writers of the day.
 
 24 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " Yes, yes/' she said, impatiently. " I am sufficiently 
 patriotic to think they can hold their own against 
 their contemporaries. But what is that, after all ? 
 What is it ? " 
 
 Then, dismissing the pigmies of the present with 
 an imperious wave of her black fan, she continued, 
 " Wait till women take their proper place in criticism 
 as well as in literature. Have you ever tried to con- 
 sider even Eousseau or Goethe from a woman's point 
 of view ? They are giants if you like. They have 
 each a direct personal influence still upon every man 
 in their own countries. So much I grant you. But 
 it is we poor women who have had to pay the 
 cost of all their grand social revolutions. Your very 
 votes " 
 
 "Were won in blood," I interrupted, trying to 
 utilise my uncle's favourite electioneering speech. 
 
 "Not in blood," she answered quietly, "but in 
 tears, and often very girlish tears. Eousseau and 
 Goethe, and Shelley too, for that matter, all played 
 on the hearts of the silly women who loved them, till 
 they struck the right key-note ; and inspired by this, 
 they were strong enough to go into the outer world 
 and speak like prophets." 
 
 " Stop, stop ! " I cried. " Helvetius spent fifteen 
 years in elaborating that dreadful theory, and Diderot 
 destroyed it in an afternoon."
 
 LADY BLUEBEAKD. 25 
 
 " Never," said Mrs Fonblanque. " It is a theory all 
 my own " 
 
 " You mean," I explained, " that love, or something 
 like love, is the source of all action ; that, as Helvetius 
 says, without passion there are no wants and no 
 desires, and that without wants and desires there can 
 be no action, because there is no need for any." 
 
 " No, I don't," she answered, quickly. " I mean 
 nothing of the kind. I only mean what I say, — that 
 women are weak enough to sacrifice their lives, as on 
 an altar, so as to fire and inspire the men they love ; 
 and not a woman now (more shame to us !) but longs 
 to be loved by some Goethe or Eousseau. So far from 
 hating your selfishness, we adore it. We can only 
 feel. Some day we shall think ; and then, Mr Hicks, 
 beware of us ! " 
 
 « Why, my dear Mrs Fonblanque," I cried, " you 
 speak for all the world like Mr Mallock in the 
 ' Nineteenth Century ' ! " 
 
 "Oh, don't talk to me of Mr Mallock!" she 
 exclaimed. " Nothing could be more detestable than 
 his women — except, perhaps, his men. His heroes go 
 about with portfolios of improper photographs in their 
 capacious pockets, and his heroines look at them. 
 Faugh ! Every time I think of Mr Mallock as a 
 literary personage at home, I am thankful I have 
 never set foot in England."
 
 26 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " What ! you have never been in England ! " I cried 
 out in the most honest and profound amazement. 
 
 " Never," she rejoined. " I was going there for the 
 first time, when I met you and turned back." 
 
 We were both silent for five minutes. 
 
 " I thought that would startle you," she said at last, 
 with a singularly expressive smile. " But I mustn't 
 make myself out too much of a barbarian. I have 
 been in Europe. Ah ! now you look relieved. Papa 
 used to take me to Florence for singing, and to Vienna 
 for dancing. But he never would take me to England. 
 Poor papa ! All I know of literature I learnt out 
 here from an old Jesuit tutor, and I am never quite 
 sure whether he did not do me more harm than good. 
 I was, of course, a child in his hands, and sometimes I 
 think " 
 
 Here Captain Croly, who had been pacing the 
 quarter-deck for the last half-hour, came to a dead 
 halt beside us, as if his endurance could hold out no 
 longer. Our erudition had evidently puzzled him, and 
 he had gradually slackened his speed as he neared 
 us. But now he put an unequivocal stopper on our 
 tete-a-tete conversation by saying, " Bussorah, ma'am, 
 Bussorah, where, I am sorry to say, you both change 
 over into the British-India steamer."
 
 27 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The dinner at the Eesidency that evening was in its 
 way a brilliant affair. I tried to shirk it, but Mrs 
 Fonblanque put a summary end to all my lazy scruples 
 by condescending to twit me about my ungallant in- 
 difference as to what she might possibly look like when 
 she took the trouble to appear in full dress. " They 
 have called me all manner of horrible names in my 
 time," she said, " but they have never called me an 
 antique. If you really care for nothing but the an- 
 tique revived, stop on board, and finish your sketch 
 of Ezra's Tomb from a steamboat." 
 
 I dressed as quickly as I could, and as we were to 
 stay the night at the Eesidency, I huddled all my 
 things into a bag. Then we went together in a bellem. 
 The full moon hanging like a clear-cut disc above the 
 dark masses of palm-trees in front, seemed unusually 
 large and supernaturally bright and beautiful. There 
 was an unspeakable charm of sadness and content in
 
 28 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 the soft evening air. From the farther bank the 
 lights from the windows of the Governor's palace 
 shone in a pale and tremulous pathway across the 
 rippling river. The band on board the Turkish man- 
 of-war struck up a barbaric Tartar air as we passed by, 
 and fitful snatches of solemn Arabic minstrelsy came 
 to us most musically over the waters from the veiled 
 and unveiled revellers holding high festival in honour 
 of the glorious moon above them, and drifting slowly 
 down the stream in innumerable torch -lit boats. It 
 was one of those still nights that often precede a 
 storm, when the air is charged with what, for want 
 of a better name, we call electricity, and when silence 
 itself is the only fit expression of the subtle sym- 
 pathies so suddenly and so mysteriously awakened. 
 I would have given worlds to have touched Mrs Fon- 
 blanque's hand for a moment. But both of us were 
 spell-bound. 
 
 When the water was too shallow for their oars, the 
 boatmen poled us through a long narrow water-way 
 that meandered in the most romantic and eccentric 
 fashion among the graceful date-groves. Eventually 
 we came to a broad flight of chunam steps, brilliantly 
 illuminated for the occasion. I am always emotional, 
 as any man must be whose life is devoted to some 
 vague shadowy ideal ; and now, indeed, it seemed as 
 if we had really touched the enchanted ground de-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 29 
 
 scribed so minutely and so truly a thousand and one 
 times over in the ' Arabian Nights.' 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque sprang lightly ashore. Before 
 taking my arm, she threw off her opera cloak and told 
 me to carry it. She was simply dressed in a faint 
 primrose-coloured gown, fitting her so perfectly that 
 it scarcely needed the support of the almost invisible 
 sleeves which, by some ingenious stroke of fancy, she 
 wore on the upper part of the arm instead of over the 
 shoulder. The soft outline of her white neck was 
 almost concealed, and, as I thought, spoilt by the 
 glittering diamonds that fringed her frock, and she 
 had one spray of great brilliants in her yellow hair. 
 Even the boatmen, as they delayed their departure, 
 seemed to think that she was well worth a king's 
 ransom. A little dazzled and abashed by her beauty, 
 I was trying to put the same idea in an unobtrusive 
 way, when the Eesident with a courtly bow took her 
 from me. 
 
 Owing to my obstinacy we happened to be a quarter 
 of an hour late. Dinner was announced at once, and 
 I had to be content with a view of her from the other 
 side of the table. 
 
 This made me rather sulky at first, until I happily 
 chanced to remember that the famous Marquis of 
 Hertford had once gained much artistic Mat in Paris 
 by purchasing, not the picturesque little gem of a
 
 30 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 house which had suddenly fascinated him in an even- 
 ing stroll, but a hideous structure opposite. " I like 
 a beautiful house," he said, when all his friends kindly 
 remonstrated ; " but you can't see your house if you 
 live in it, and I choose to live opposite." This in- 
 genious legend has befriended me at many dinner- 
 parties since then, when the lady I would like to have 
 taken in has not been allotted to me ; and I was so 
 pleased with the conceit at the moment, that after the 
 soup was served I repeated it to the plump little 
 Armenian lady who had fallen to my lot. 
 
 This was, of course, stupid and unpardonably im- 
 pertinent, and she answered me very properly by 
 trying to turn her nose up. But Nature, who had 
 cast that sensitive feature in a decidedly Jewish 
 mould, was against her. She could only throw dis- 
 dainful glances at Mrs Fonblanque, as she sat in 
 radiant state between the Eesident and a gentleman 
 whose soft brown eyes sparkled with kindly humour, 
 and whose closely-shaven jowl showed the power and 
 tenacity of a bull-clog. To be fit for anything, my 
 uncle used to say, you must either have a big back 
 to your head or a big jowl. My neighbour opposite 
 apparently had both. But my neighbour beside me 
 allowed me no time to study him. It was, at all 
 events, in common civility, my first duty to appease 
 her.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 31 
 
 " It was stupid of me," I said, in my most affable 
 manner. " I am often stupid. I can't help it. And, 
 of course, Mrs Fonblanque's style of beauty may not 
 strike you as it has, I own, struck me. But why are 
 you looking so scornfully at the gentleman on the 
 right? What is he? Who is he?" 
 
 " Mr Wylie," she replied, abruptly ; and amidst 
 the ever-increasing current of her rippling conversa- 
 tion, I recognised Mr Wylie at once. 
 
 Everybody in the Gulf, and indeed almost every 
 Englishman in the East, knows Mr Wylie by name. 
 He is the last of a useful race, a thoroughly oriental- 
 ised Anglo - Saxon. Without losing touch of his 
 own countrymen, he has contrived to completely 
 identify himself with the people among whom his 
 lot was at first very unwillingly cast. He came to 
 Bussorah before the Mutiny, and has remained there 
 ever since. The little bungalow on the Bussorah 
 river upon which he painted his name thirty years 
 before, has, with the expansion of the date trade, be- 
 come a perfect palace. Here, if rumour can be trusted, 
 you will find stately halls, paved and lined with rare 
 Italian marbles, and round each of them sets of 
 smaller chambers, their walls and ceilings covered 
 with an almost unbroken expanse of costly Venetian 
 mirrors. There are (at least my companion said so) 
 mysterious doorways, hung with heavy Indian imr-
 
 32 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 daks, and opening on to noiseless corridors carpeted 
 with Persian rags of inestimable value. In the midst 
 of the central quadrangle blooms, she said, the loveliest 
 garden in Asia, concealing in the very heart of its 
 huge-leafed tropical foliage an enormous swimming- 
 bath, open to the air ; and behind that again there is 
 a luxurious suite of Turkish baths. This is something, 
 not all. Mr Wylie, as even my neighbour allowed, 
 has the reputation of being a jovial and indefatigable 
 companion among the snipe 'and wild-duck along the 
 river marshes, and a genial and generous host in the 
 comfortable apartments attached to his new office on 
 the banks of the broad Shet-el-Arab. But though no 
 guest has ever been allowed to break the seclusion of 
 his home, the silence that reigns there is confined to 
 his own compound. Outside these narrow limits he 
 is the centre of a hundred myths. Here to-day and 
 gone to-morrow, he is supposed to know the East as 
 no European has ever known it. No country, if 
 money can be made out of it, is too remote for his 
 personal attention. No business venture, however 
 daring, is too perilous for him to attempt. No 
 pleasure, Sybarite as they call him, has ever jaded 
 his keen sense of physical enjoyment. 
 
 Here my attention was for the moment attracted 
 to the other side of the table, but I heard the Ar- 
 menian lady say something I could not quite catch,
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 33 
 
 about slave-dhows and slave-girls and slave-dealing, 
 something about bow-strings, and datura-poisoning, and 
 mysterious sacks, and stifled midnight shrieks, and of 
 a cast-iron conscience that no black and hideous crime 
 could ever quicken. 
 
 Engrossed very naturally by the extraordinary in- 
 terest now shown by Mrs Fonblanque in Mr Wy lie's 
 conversation, I unhappily lost the thread, such as it 
 was, that bound my Armenian lady's arguments to- 
 gether. She was shrewd enough to see this. ■ 
 
 " You are not listening," she said. " You don't be- 
 lieve a word I say. Wait — wait till to-morrow morn- 
 ing only and test me. Your boatmen, if you fee them 
 properly, will show you what a horrible man and what 
 a cruel man your charming friend's companion is. 
 They call his palace the 'Bussorah Jail.' It is the 
 one show-place here ; and though you can only see 
 it from a distance, all our boatmen make a little for- 
 tune from strange travellers like you by pointing out 
 the stone-barred windows, from which the black eyes 
 of his wretched jail-birds flash hopelessly through the 
 palm -leaves. Go and look, please go and look, and 
 then, like your other friend, the Marquis, settle down 
 in the mud-hovel opposite. You will, at all events, 
 find it cheap." 
 
 This withering sarcasm evidently meant that my 
 Armenian lady wished to be just a trifle rude. But 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 34 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 rudeness was apparently the order of the day. Our 
 little dispute, if such a one-sided battle deserve the 
 name, had, spite of all my efforts, become sufficiently 
 noticeable to produce an awful pause. In the midst 
 of it Mr Wylie said in a very dulcet but terribly dis- 
 tinct voice — 
 
 " Oh no, Mrs Fonblanque, excuse me ! That is not 
 what I meant. Ladies are all very well in their place. 
 But our new-fangled "Western ideas are completely 
 wrong. Women should never be brought into any sort 
 of rivalry with men. They are much too good, too 
 beautiful, and far too fantastic for that. They should 
 be kept in a seclusion almost sacred. I have enjoyed 
 your lively conversation and your brilliant powers of 
 repartee immensely to-night. It is an intellectual 
 treat one does not often enjoy in Bussorah." Here the 
 Besiclent's lady frowned at Mr Wylie. " But allow 
 me to put it boldly : if you were a wife of mine, I am 
 selfish enough to think that I should wish to keep all 
 these attractions to myself." 
 
 " Well," replied Mrs Fonblanque, " we will take an 
 extreme case, if you like. Suppose yourself my hus- 
 band, what would you do with me ? " 
 
 " I should put you under lock and key," answered 
 Mr Wylie, without a moment's hesitation. 
 
 " You would lock me up, sir ! Why ? " 
 
 " Because the experience of countless ages tells me
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 35 
 
 that it would be the correct thing, the only thing, to 
 do. Believe me, my dear madam, ladies were never 
 meant to be exposed to every wind that blows, and to 
 be buffeted about until they become as angular and 
 as case-hardened as men should be. They simply ruin 
 the romance of their nature by taking part in those 
 sordid domestic cares which should in every well- 
 regulated household be intrusted to negro servants. 
 They miss the essential beauty of repose which, like 
 poetry itself, is the refined product of solitude and 
 seclusion. Female individuality, self-will, or selfish- 
 ness, call it what you may, is not understood in the 
 East ; and, judging from a lifetime spent here, I cer- 
 tainly think the East is right. But right or wrong, 
 you must allow that more than seven-eighths of all 
 the intelligent men in the world are of my way of 
 thinking, to say nothing of ninety-nine per cent of the 
 women, whether intelligent or natural." 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque's soft grey eyes had the old omin- 
 ous glint of cold steel in them just then. Her face, 
 still serenely indifferent, was perhaps a little flushed. 
 But she kept her temper most admirably. 
 
 " I can allow a good deal," she answered quietly, 
 " for the sake of an amusing argument. You are 
 wrong about your women, and we will put them on 
 one side, if you please, and talk about the other 
 eighth of your men — the men of educated sentiment,
 
 36 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 of refined, chivalric, and perhaps I may venture to 
 say, European feeling ; are they not to be consulted ? " 
 
 " Not for an instant ! " he answered. " They have 
 been led away into a temporary rebellion against the 
 very first laws of nature, and they must in the nat- 
 ural course of things get the worst of it. It is for 
 us, madam, to recall them to a sense of duty, and if 
 need be, to protect them. Pray don't think me per- 
 sonal. You have, if you will permit me to say so, the 
 most charming individuality. But let me multiply 
 you by a hundred or a thousand, and you would be a 
 shrieking sisterhood. Surely, knowing, as I do, how 
 men are led away by female beauty and petticoat 
 influence, it would be better to lock you up at once in 
 some lovely and secluded spot where you would only 
 work for good." 
 
 Then, with a smile and a whisper, he laid the Persian 
 apple he had been carefully peeling all this time upon 
 Mrs Fonblanque's plate. 
 
 I waited breathlessly. In spite of the deference of 
 his manner, he had been so abominably rude that I 
 could scarcely keep my seat. I still thought she would 
 annihilate him. To my astonishment Mrs Fonblanque 
 answered his whispered confidence with a mechanical 
 motion of dissent. Then she rose, a trifle paler perhaps 
 than usual, and coolly bowed to her hostess, who, if
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 37 
 
 English etiquette means anything, should have bowed 
 to her. The Eesident's lady rose very stiffly in reply. 
 The other ladies were too interested in this entertain- 
 ing little passage of arms to think of moving. Mr 
 Wylie cut his own way out of the difficulty by nodding 
 a careless " good night."
 
 38 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Thank God ! " said the Besident, when the ladies 
 had, after a modest interval, followed Mr Wylie 
 through the doorway. "Wylie always goes early. 
 But I wish he had gone half an hour sooner." 
 
 " Some one ought to shoot him ! " I cried. 
 
 " Oh ! " said a neighbour, drawing his chair up to 
 mine. " The Turks here were always trying to shoot 
 him once. But they gave that up as a bad job long- 
 ago. Their bullets — so they said — turned to water in 
 the air; and anyhow, he had an uncommonly light 
 finger on a revolver trigger. He's not the kind of 
 man to pistol. I wonder what upset him so to-night ? " 
 
 " Wylie knows her," said a little wiry old man to 
 my right. " Wylie's no fool. iSTo Turk or Arab here 
 is generally more chary of his words. I never heard 
 him say so much before. Take my word for it, 
 Wylie knows her, and had a motive for every syl- 
 lable he uttered." 
 
 "Come, now," said my other neighbour persuasively,
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 39 
 
 "you know something too. You know everything. 
 Who is she ? " 
 
 The little wiry old man to my right was the very 
 last person I should have credited with accurate 
 information of any kind, much less with universal 
 knowledge. Nature, who generally knows what she is 
 about, had put his small eyes close together in the 
 first instance, and then, as if to emphasise her mean- 
 ing, had subsequently developed the mean scowl upon 
 his narrow forehead into a distinct mark of interro- 
 gation. 
 
 He was pleased with the compliment. "We are 
 all friends," he said. "Of course I know something, 
 but my information is confidential " (the scoundrel, for 
 divulging it !) " and must not go beyond the table. I 
 had a letter of credit, and a private letter as well, tell- 
 ing me to do anything Mrs Fonblanque wished, and 
 to give her as much money as she wanted. My prin- 
 cipals, as most of you know to your cost sometimes, 
 are the most cautious of all cautious people; and 
 when, three days ago, I heard casually that the lady 
 was here, I telegraphed to Bombay. They wired 
 back : ' Follow instructions, father became millionaire 
 in Bombay Share Mania, father dead.' " 
 
 " Whew ! " said my neighbour to the right ; " is 
 that all ? Half of us here to-night were millionaires 
 then, or thought so."
 
 40 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 In a moment Mrs Fonblanque and Mr "Wylie were 
 completely forgotten, and so was I. The flood-gates of 
 Pactolus were opened. The golden river swept every- 
 thing away before it. The furrowed, wizzened faces 
 round the board borrowed new life from its glamour, 
 and eyes that had grown weary and faint in banishment, 
 and colourless and pale through prolonged despair, were 
 suddenly relit with a glimmer of their youthful past. 
 To any one but an artist, always watching for a sudden 
 rise and fall in the human barometer, the change 
 would have been inexpressibly painful. To me it 
 seemed to supply the precise missing link in a very 
 interesting little social theory. Which, I would ask 
 any of you, are the greater nuisances over their wine, 
 — the red-faced, big-headed, bald gentlemen who had 
 nothing thirty years ago and are now immensely rich ? 
 or the unfortunate devils who live on the memory of 
 a magnificent past ? This had always been a moot 
 question ; and to be frank, it is a moot question still, 
 now that I have had time to recover from the effects 
 of that entertaining but disastrous evening. 
 
 " You remember our poor old doctor," said one. 
 " He was king of Bombay, sir (the English king, I 
 mean), for a twelvemonth. He dealt one his scrip as 
 if he were a conjurer showing a trick ; and so, by gad, 
 he was ! All his cards were trumps. His wife had a 
 pretty Scotch maid, and after his wife was confined,
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 41 
 
 he tossed her maid an allotment share in the Back 
 Bay Company by way of a tip. The girl, like a canny 
 Scot, waited till she could sell for a lakh of rupees. 
 Then she cleared out — and so did he a month after- 
 wards, when the crash came. They smuggled him on 
 board the P. & 0. steamer safe enough. But the 
 steamer's engines, as luck would have it, broke down. 
 She had to put back, and then the natives nobbled 
 him. His bones, though, poor old chap, were scarcely 
 worth the picking. He had nothing they could seize 
 but an umbrella and a rickety shigram. So they 
 clapped him in jail for six months, and that broke his 
 old woman's heart. When they let him go he traced 
 out his wife's maid like a sleuth-hound. ' I gave you 
 ten thousand pounds,' he said. ' I am starving ; give 
 me half of it back.' ' Not I,' she answered. c You gave 
 me a bit of paper which would have ruined me if I 
 had kept it. But I shall always be happy to see you, 
 sir, when you call.' So he married her off-hand, and 
 bought a practice at Dulwich with her money ; and 
 there he is now, driving a roaring trade, worse luck to 
 him ! " 
 
 " Never mind the doctor," cried another. " You've 
 had your rap at him once a-week for the last sixteen 
 or seventeen years. I don't wonder at the men losing 
 their heads ; but the women — faugh ! You couldn't sit 
 down at a dinner-table without the lady next you
 
 42 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 telling you how many thousand rupees she had made 
 since she got out of bed, and what she hoped to be 
 worth the day after to-morrow. How they haunted 
 that good-looking young Hindu speculator who started 
 all the new companies ! You could scarcely get into 
 his verandah in the morning for the troops of fine 
 ladies begging for allotments, and katowing to him 
 and doing poojah to him as he squatted there stolidly 
 in oriental state. Pshaw ! The smash served us all 
 out properly. We deserved it." 
 
 " Speak for yourself, Brown," shouted a little grey- 
 headed gentleman, in high dudgeon, from the other 
 side of the table. " The natives had the ball at their 
 feet then, and they didn't often kick it the wrong way. 
 Look what they offered Currie. The night before he 
 sailed for Europe they waited on him in a body. They 
 thanked him so warmly for his invariable courtesy, 
 that all the Europeans there laughed out. Courtesy 
 was scarcely Currie's strong point. They hung a great 
 pearl necklace round his wife's throat, worth a lakh 
 and a half of rupees if it were worth an anna. Then 
 they salaamed and offered him a crore of rupees down 
 on the nail for all his investments as they stood. 
 ' Thank you, my friends/ he said, with a grim smile. 
 ' My wife is gratified, and so am I. . But both our 
 heads are screwed on the right way. Our little in- 
 vestments will be worth a couple of million sterling
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 43 
 
 by the time we reach Suez.' The smash came. He 
 was a pauper at Aden." 
 
 " A pretty pauper!" muttered my friend to the left — 
 u a pretty pauper, with fifteen thousand pounds' worth 
 of pearls round his wife's neck. He took them to 
 Hancock's ; and now he keeps a snug little inn in the 
 Trossachs, and puts a good sum past every year, which 
 is more than we do, eh, Brown ? " 
 
 " Sir," I said to the Eesident, taking the first oppor- 
 tunity of moving to a vacant chair beside him, " I am 
 a poor man myself, and out of place among so many 
 millionaires. What are they talking of ? " 
 
 "Of the Share Mania, Mr Hicks," he answered. 
 " They always talk of it over their claret." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Most of them were bitten," he continued, dropping 
 his voice. " But it was a wonderful time. The 
 American war sent up the price of Indian cotton un- 
 til Bombay became almost fabulously wealthy. The 
 native merchants there brought out English coachmen 
 from London, if you please, to drive them and their 
 bare feet and bare legs about the Esplanade and 
 Bandstand. The ryots up-country shod their bullocks 
 with silver, and bought silver tyres for their bullock- 
 carts. Every Englishman in the Presidency, no mat- 
 ter how poor he might be, thought he was a million- 
 aire for a moment. The High Court officials, and the
 
 44 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 very professors of the University, threw up their ap- 
 pointments, and took to speculation as a trade." 
 
 "But how did they begin? Where did they get 
 the money ? " I ventured to inquire. 
 
 " Money ! " said the Eesident, almost scornfully ; 
 "it is not money makes the millionaire, but brains 
 — brains and brass ! There was as little hard cash 
 among them then as there is now. But the natives 
 reeked of money. The banks were full of it. You 
 were looked upon as a curmudgeon if you would not 
 borrow. You wanted to take up shares in a new 
 company, and there were new companies twice a-day. 
 hot and hot. You went to a friendly banker who had 
 been pestering you to borrow, and, on a promise to 
 deposit the shares, he gave you a cheque to pay for 
 them. You waited two or three weeks. Your shares 
 had gone up two or three hundred per cent by that 
 time. Then, if you were abnormally wise, you realised." 
 
 "And Mrs Fonblanque's father was abnormally 
 wise ? " I asked, slowly. 
 
 "I know nothing of her or him. But I always 
 fancy that Wylie, who left us just now, is a man of 
 the same type. Everything he touches turns to gold, 
 and apparently without the slightest trouble. Here, 
 we only envy him for his intense enjoyment of animal 
 life, and his wonderful success in business. But I can 
 tell you, from my personal and official knowledge, that
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 45 
 
 he is almost as well known in Zanzibar and the 
 Mauritius, in Eangoon and Hong-Kong, as he is 
 here. But here, as everywhere else, he is a puzzle to 
 us all. I do not know where he was yesterday. I 
 haven't a suspicion where he will be to-morrow, or 
 to-morrow week, say. But I do know, as a fact that 
 is useful to me sometimes, that he can, whenever he 
 pleases, twist the Caliph round his little finger ; and 
 
 yet " 
 
 Here an Arab servant crept stealthily up, and on 
 the small piece of paper he gave me I read — " Come 
 at once. Please come at once. We must go off to the 
 steamer. I am waiting for you on the steps. — L. F."
 
 46 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 My cabin door was pushed violently open next 
 morning just as the rising sun began to peep into 
 the port-hole. I awoke with a start, to find that 
 terrible creature Priscilla standing over me in a 
 threatening attitude. At first she seemed part of 
 some long-forgotten dream, my own voice sounding 
 remote and strange as I implored her to speak. But 
 I shivered in good earnest when she spoke, for her 
 voice was as hard and fierce as her eyes. " The Mem 
 Sahib gives salaams," she said, " and the Mem Sahib 
 sends this." It was another note — that was all; but 
 another note was a little too much just then, consider- 
 ing that Mrs Fonblanque had not yet condescended to 
 explain her enigmatical note of the night before. A 
 pretty fool I should have looked if, after bolting away 
 'without saying "good night," I had had to return to 
 the Eesidency to apologise before any of them were 
 out of bed. However, I was spared that indignity. 
 Mrs Fonblanque merely said that as it was a
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 47 
 
 deliciously cool morning, she ventured to hope I 
 would be good enough to escort her round the town 
 in a bellem. I would find her preparing early break- 
 fast on the quarter-deck in about ten minutes. 
 
 That did not sound very dreadful. But you must 
 remember how completely, since leaving Charing Cross, 
 I had subordinated my wishes to my uncle's, that my 
 work was really over when I had once secured the 
 Tree of Good and Evil, and that I was naturally 
 looking forward to a prolonged and very lazy holiday. 
 Yet here I was, without any option of my own in the 
 matter, bound hand and foot, last thing at night and 
 first thing in the morning, to a perfect stranger. I 
 went on deck fuming ; but directly I saw Mrs Fon- 
 blanque I was absolutely compelled to acknowledge 
 that her thraldom, suddenly as it had come upon me, 
 might have pleasant possibilities about it. I felt, 
 moreover, that it might perhaps give the artistic side 
 of my nature the very bias that was still too obviously 
 wanting. 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque, as she stood there on the quarter- 
 deck cutting up a big melon, would have won the 
 soul of any artist. She typified herself unconsciously. 
 She reminded me, for the first time since I had seen 
 her, of English home-life. Like the water-melon in 
 her little hands, she was very cool and pleasant to 
 look at in her fresh white morning-gown. She ad-
 
 48 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 vanced a step or two and frankly gave me her 
 hand. 
 
 " You forgive me, I know," she said. " I was all 
 nerves last night and terribly put out, I scarcely know 
 why. And as I often say silly things when my temper 
 is wrong, I try to hold my tongue then. When we 
 reached the ship I was too much ashamed to say 
 anything but good night. There ! forgive and for- 
 get. I have your cup of tea all ready for you, just 
 as you like it, without milk and sugar, and if you sit 
 down I will slice the lemon into it myself ; and then, if 
 you care to help me, we will have a charming day." 
 
 I thanked her, and, with my temper perfectly re- 
 stored, sat down to chota hazree. When I looked up 
 again, I saw a ghoul-like figure in long black robes, 
 and with a funnel-shaped white veil tightly stretched 
 across the face. Only the eyes were visible, but those 
 tell-tale eyes were so lit up with fun and merriment 
 that I knew them at once. 
 
 "This is my disguise," said Mrs Fonblanque, half 
 throwing it off, and quite unconscious of the artistic 
 effect of half transitions. A lady's costume, I take it, 
 should only be a framework for her beauty, though 
 M. Worth, I am credibly informed, can suggest such 
 charms as no lady would ever think of revealing. 
 Mrs Fonblanque just then, however, knew as little 
 of M. Worth's abilities as I did.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 49 
 
 " We are all slaves of fashion, you know," she said, 
 smiling, " and an English lady has to wear these awful 
 things in the bazaar here if she does not wish to be 
 mobbed and insulted ; and so for once I must go into a 
 lovely and sacred seclusion, as that horrible man said 
 last night. But there is a good thick curtain round 
 our bellem. I need not make a guy of myself on the 
 water, thank goodness ! but I must take this hideous 
 wrapper with us. Come along, sir, the bellem is ready, 
 and the ship is getting unbearable." 
 
 This was true enough. A band of hulking Arabs, 
 dressed in what looked like grimy night- shirts, were 
 coaling, and in another part of the ship the lascars 
 were hammering away at the quarters destined for the 
 Arab horses which were to form the bulk of our cargo 
 to India. 
 
 Bussorah, though its architecture is not much to 
 boast of, really is the Venice of the East, and the bel- 
 lem is its gondola. The bellem, which had been placed 
 at Mrs Eonblanque's disposal by the agents, had a 
 white canopy festooned with red, and ample white 
 curtains, and was comfortably fitted with silk cushions 
 and soft Persian rugs. The lazy motion, as we were 
 poled up the main canal, was very easy and pleasant ; 
 and though we were ourselves invisible, even to the 
 crew, we could see everything around us. 
 
 The date-gardens, intersected by small canals, came 
 VOL. i. D
 
 50 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 down to the banks on either side. The town itself lay 
 some two or three miles farther up ; but here below, 
 the wealthy merchants had their country seats in the 
 midst of immense but monotonous gardens. The 
 houses, big and little — all built of huge half -dried 
 mud bricks, and all on the same model — were gloomy 
 enough, for their windows, as a rule, opened into an 
 inner quadrangle ; and a house without windows 
 necessarily reminds one of a face without eyes. 
 You shudder and go on. But each house, neverthe- 
 less, had its distinctive feature in the canal, passing 
 under a bridged pathway and winding in and out of 
 the palms until it washed a fine flight of glistening 
 white steps, on which the gaudily-dressed negro-slaves 
 thronged together to take a sun-bath like the lizards, 
 and just as lazily watch the world go by. 
 
 Along the well-shaded pathway to our left, Turkish 
 soldiers in a loose Zouave uniform lounged surlily 
 about on guard, scolding the poorer sort of people as 
 they plodded to and fro or drove their donkeys across 
 the shaky little bridges. A couple of date-tree trunks, 
 covered with a thick layer of sun-dried mud, is a 
 bridge at Bussorah. But that does not much matter, 
 for all but the very poorest class use the canal, and the 
 canal at this early hour was alive with boats. The 
 Bussorah Arabs are a singularly musical race, probably 
 because they are sailors as well as nomads, and as
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 51 
 
 much at home on the open sea as on the boundless 
 desert. The bellenis, as they were pushed forward 
 with long poles, glided swiftly and silently through the 
 water ; but their crews, and often their passengers, 
 joined together in some rhythmical refrain, and the 
 boatmen in the great cargo-barges, as they passed by, 
 added a few low notes by way of salutation. 
 
 Some of the bellems were completely tented over 
 till they looked for all the world like funeral palls ; 
 and we met more than one bridal procession of half-a- 
 dozen boats, gaily tricked out with flowers and glow- 
 ing carpets, coming down the canal, with a band of 
 Arab musicians in front of them, and with silvery 
 peals of merry laughter from the women's boat in 
 their midst. Then there were broad market - boats 
 laden with pumpkins and melons, peaches and grapes, 
 pomegranates and all manner of outlandish fruit and 
 vegetables; cargo-barges piled deftly up, after the 
 haystack fashion, with date-boxes for the European 
 steamers ; great caravan-boats making for some dis- 
 tant haven, where the real journey would begin ; bat- 
 tered old ferry-boats, as slow as veterans will be, 
 bridging every here and there the two sides of the 
 canal ; and the gorgeous official boat, spick and span, 
 with a very self-opinionated Turkish officer lolling in 
 the stern, as he was rowed in the English fashion by 
 a smartly dressed crew. 
 
 UBRAR1 
 
 utuvBgm of p umm
 
 52 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 The hatred the Turks and Arabs have for each 
 other on land seems, however, to die away upon the 
 water. Here everybody was as good as his neigh- 
 bour, who could run over you if he liked — and, as 
 a consequence, everybody was courteous and good- 
 natured. Every now and again the round white arm 
 of some veiled Circassian beauty would thrust aside 
 the heavy purdah for a minute, and all the ladies, 
 until they were discovered and repressed, would join 
 in the running fire of merry chaff. 
 
 Our bellem suddenly stopped. The tindal himself 
 raised one of the curtains. "That is "Wylie Sahib's 
 bungalow," he explained in easy Arabic. 
 
 " Go on at once ! " said Mrs Fonblanque, looking 
 steadily at the other bank. 
 
 This enabled me to take an uninterrupted view of 
 Mr Wylie's house ; and so far, my Armenian lady was 
 perfectly accurate. 
 
 " We are passing Mr \Vy lie's house," I observed. 
 " The Armenian lady I took in to dinner last night was 
 quite right in her description. But what an extra- 
 ordinary man he must be to vegetate here, if he can 
 keep up a palace like that ! " 
 
 " I detest him ! " cried Mrs Fonblanque. " He was 
 most abominably rude to me. Never mention his 
 name to me again. And as for that little Armenian 
 fright with whom you flirted all last night, I should
 
 LADY BLUEBEAED. 53 
 
 perhaps detest her too, if I could bring myself to do it. 
 Even the date trade has its drawbacks, when people 
 like that find their way into date-trade society." 
 
 " The date trade ! " I exclaimed, motioning to the 
 tindal to drop the curtain and proceed. " You speak of 
 the date trade as if it were a branch of science or art." 
 
 "So it is here," she said. "The date trade, from 
 what your fat little Armenian lady and her sister told 
 me yesterday, is the most artistic science out. You 
 buy dates at six months' credit, sir, and you send 
 them home. The banks in Kurrachee or Bombay 
 advance you money on the bills of lading, as I think 
 you call them, and before you pay for your dates they 
 have been sold in London at a profit of fifty per cent 
 — and it used to be a hundred. ' You understand 
 me ? ' said your Armenian lady. ' Perfectly,' I re- 
 plied. 'My ayah, Pris.cilla, would like to trade on 
 these terms. But if you can make such an enormous 
 profit out of Arab credulity, why do you and your 
 sister stop in this horrible place ? Why not imagine, 
 as Priscilla would, that your fictitious capital is ten 
 lakhs, twenty lakhs, thirty lakhs — any figure you 
 please ? Why not realise on that and clear out ? ' 
 That was the beginning of my little fight last night, 
 Mr Hicks. But never mind last night. Here is 
 Bussorah-on-the-Mud. Please help me on with the 
 disguise."
 
 54 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 Turkish ladies, no doubt, are used to the in- 
 tricacies of the cloaks and veils with which they 
 rather unnecessarily shroud their exuberant charms. 
 I did what I could. Mrs Fonblanque laughed 
 a little. I laughed a good deal. Then I called 
 in the tindal, and being a handy man, and hav- 
 ing, as he explained to her, three or four wives of 
 his own, he helped us out of our difficulty in a 
 trice. 
 
 A very tall, very black, and very burly negro was 
 waiting on the steps to act as dragoman and to pioneer 
 us through the crowd. One oriental bazaar is much 
 like another. But the Bussorah bazaar was a fairly 
 good specimen. The interminable brick archway above 
 us was broad and lofty. Here and there the sun burst 
 through a chink in the solid sort of ray that one often 
 sees in old religious pictures. The recesses or little 
 shops on either side were larger than usual, and, as 
 usual, the merchants squatted or slept (even at this 
 early hour) on the long clay slabs in front of them. 
 Every trade had its own quarter. If you wanted a 
 packet of screws or a yard or two of Manchester piece- 
 goods, or even a handful of grain, you could wander 
 for a hundred yards to right and left until you had 
 ascertained, through much deliberate bargaining, the 
 fair market-price. Here the air was so pungent with 
 pepper and chillies and aromatic spices, that you liter-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 55 
 
 ally sneezed. There the coppersmiths lazily plied their 
 musical trade in front of pyramids of burnished pots 
 and pans that glistened in the gloomy light like red 
 gold. Cross-legged tailors stitched away merrily — 
 some of them, I was shocked to see, with the aid of 
 the sewing-machine. The costly tissues and fabrics 
 and textile wares of the East itself were badly repre- 
 sented : for those, of course, you must go to the Baker 
 Street bazaar. The very daggers and pistols, covered 
 with barbaric silver-work, bore a Birmingham stamp ; 
 while the stuffs and calicoes and muslins, oriental as 
 they were in design, came from Manchester or Switzer- 
 land. Even the red cloth out of which the fezes of 
 the faithful were deftly hammered on wooden blocks, 
 was only shoddy from Leeds. The process was a 
 simple one, and many a passer-by stopped to have 
 his old fez rejuvenated, just as an Englishman might 
 stop in Piccadilly to have his hat done up. 
 
 Still the commonest things of all undoubtedly bore 
 the local colour. There was a little bazaar of coarse 
 earthen jars, in the largest of which any one of the 
 forty thieves could have been comfortably drowned 
 in boiling oil. Some of the huge open sacks in the 
 grain - dealers' stores were filled with cereals never 
 seen in Europe. The bread in the bakers' shops had 
 a shape of its own. The fruit in the broad brass trays 
 were decidedly uncouth. The cook-shops, with their
 
 56 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 huge caldrons of boiled flesh, their piled-up pillaus, 
 their savoury morsels of toasted hctbobs deftly skewered 
 one on to the other, and their heaps of saffron-coloured 
 rice, were really Eastern ; and everywhere around them 
 the barbers, the story-tellers, and the negro porters 
 were hanging about waiting for custom. More Eastern 
 still, if that be possible, were the spacious coffee-shops, 
 where men of almost every oriental nationality met 
 together to sedately smoke the callian of peace. 
 Sedateness, indeed, was the one common feature of 
 the motley crowd. Horses are only less rare at 
 Bussorah than at Venice or Muscat. But as a stray 
 Bedouin rode slowly through the crowded bazaar, his 
 high-bred mare would quietly force her way between 
 two earnest conversationalists, and so courteously that 
 they thought as little of the interruption as her rider 
 did. The Jews and Armenians, it is true, seemed to 
 gesticulate a little ; but as they were banished to one 
 of the many entrances of the bazaar, we could not 
 hear what they said. And it was much the same 
 with the negro women clustering like bees round the 
 butter shops and sweet-stuff stalls, tasting almost as 
 eagerly as they talked; or, as we saw them a little 
 farther on, inviting the verdict of the crowd when- 
 ever they cheapened a sham bracelet or tried on a 
 gaudy head-dress. The Turkish ladies did their shop- 
 ping much more seriously, sitting down opposite their
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 57 
 
 shopkeepers and waiting apparently until fatigue 
 should overwhelm one or other of the conflicting 
 interests. It was a curious crowd. Jews, Turks, 
 Kurds, Armenians, Greeks, Banians, Persians, Arabs, 
 and negroes made up a sufficiently picturesque 
 gathering. But still, as I told Mrs Fonblanque, the 
 Bussorah we saw was certainly not the Bussorah of 
 the good old days of Haroun-al-Baschid, when the 
 city, the emporium of the Eastern world, held eight 
 hundred thousand adventurous and turbulent souls, 
 who spent their money like water in love and revelry 
 and riot, when they were not making it out of murder 
 and piracy on the high seas. Of course I do not sup- 
 pose for a moment that there ever were eight hundred 
 thousand, or four hundred thousand, or even three 
 hundred thousand souls in Bussorah. But, as the 
 faithful chronicler of an Eastern story, I am bound 
 to quote Eastern figures as I found them. In the 
 purchases Mrs Fonblanque made, the dealers, I could 
 not help noticing, asked ten times more than they got. 
 And perhaps those unchecked historians, their fore- 
 bears, used the same decimal system of notation. At 
 a rough guess, I should have put down the population 
 as I saw it at twenty thousand, mostly beggars. The 
 Bussorah bazaar is a paradise for beggars. They sleep 
 there at night, and by day they wait about till Provi- 
 dence sends them their alms. Then they have their
 
 58 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 cook-shops and their fruit-shops and their cafes at 
 hand, and whether you give them anything or not, 
 they are courteous and very orderly. Even the care 
 we bestowed on Mrs Fonblanque attracted little atten- 
 tion. The people who were good enough at first sight 
 to think me an incongruous member of her party, 
 were satisfied when they noticed our negro dragoman 
 stalking on in front. 
 
 " Bussorah must be a dreadful place for fires," said 
 Mrs Fonblanque, stopping to look at a fine collection 
 of Bactrian coins fresh from Birmingham. " Most of 
 the people have their faces covered with scars." 
 
 " Yes," I answered. " But they are worse in Bag- 
 dad. That's the ' date boil.' Almost every one who 
 goes there gets it, and they say I shall very likely 
 have it by-and-by. It lasts four months, and dis- 
 figures you for life if it happens to come on your face. 
 You can't entice European ladies to live there at all. 
 They can't face it." 
 
 " I should think not ! " said Mrs Fonblanque ; " and 
 I am really beginning to be glad I turned back." 
 
 Suddenly the air grew fresh and sweet, and in a 
 moment or two afterwards we emerged into a large 
 square plot of open ground, with a ruined mosque on 
 one side of it, a spick-and-span set of barracks on 
 another, and on the third a row of mean-looking 
 houses, from the doors and windows of which, bediz-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 59 
 
 ened and becrowned, flaunted a number of unveiled 
 and over-painted Armenian women. 
 
 " Thank heaven ! " said Mrs Fonblanque, clutching 
 my coat. " I was almost stifled. That is what your 
 Naturalistic friends, Mr Hicks, would make of your 
 Ctesiphon Eevived, and I have no doubt their picture 
 would be much more lifelike than yours. Please 
 give me your arm for a moment. You can't tell how 
 tired I am." 
 
 " I am very, very sorry," I answered. But a body 
 of Turkish recruits doing goose-step grinned so im- 
 pudently at the unusual spectacle of a Turkish lady 
 clinging on to an Englishman's arm, that she with- 
 drew her hand until we gained cover. 
 
 " I am very sorry. Had we not better return before 
 you are quite exhausted ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! I am better now. These hobble- 
 dehoys saved me. I thought I was going to faint, 
 and if I had fainted, you could not possibly have 
 revived me in this intricate costume. But I never 
 dreamt of going through that awful bazaar a second 
 time. I sent the bellem all the way round to the 
 canal in front of us, just beyond the date-trees on the 
 fourth side of the square. I shall be all right again 
 once I am behind its friendly curtains ; and then we 
 can have tiffin."
 
 60 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 " Are you never quite in earnest, Mr Hicks ? " asked 
 Mrs Fonblanque quietly, as I distributed the contents 
 of the tiffin basket over the limited space of shade 
 cast by a couple of friendly male and female date- 
 trees. " Your lively conversation amuses me up to a 
 certain point. But it is a trifle monotonous, and I 
 begin to understand your character now, and why 
 your Academy picture has not been hung yet ; and 
 for goodness' sake, don't try to cut the chicken-pie 
 with a spoon ! " 
 
 "That is only another type," I answered. "I am 
 in reality burnt up by earnestness. The fire, fortun- 
 ately perhaps, is intense enough to consume its own 
 smoke, and so you never know anything of it. The 
 Fates, too, are against me. I am always trying to 
 cut the chicken-pie with a spoon ; and what you very 
 properly call my flippancy, is the inevitable result of 
 unappreciated effort." 
 
 "I said nothing about flippancy," said Mrs Fon-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 61 
 
 blanque, adding a little more vinegar to my salad- 
 dressing. " But you men seem to have such fine 
 careers cut out for you from the first, that anybody 
 condemned to be a woman for life is apt to pity your 
 failures as well as envy your successes. You have 
 muscle, Mr Hicks, but you want will. Had I been 
 in your place when we both got into the steamer 
 returning to Bussorah, I should certainly have re- 
 torted by getting into the Bagdad boat. I should have 
 thought much more of you had you done so. Perhaps 
 I should have followed, and that would have given you 
 the w T hip-hand." 
 
 " My dear Mrs Fonblanque," I replied, " what you 
 say is perfectly true, and occurred to me at the time. 
 But as I had a distinct ideal before me, I preferred 
 that your plans rather than mine should be disor- 
 ganised." 
 
 " I wish I could really believe that," she said. " In- 
 deed I wish I could believe anything. I have a 
 trained and disciplined understanding. I have more 
 knowledge than most women. I have read more and 
 seen more, and I have, I fear, almost unsexecl myself 
 by a narrow habit of logical thought. ' Why this ? ' 
 ' why that ? ' I ask myself when you or any other 
 man talks to me; and if a lady talks to me, I say 
 ' bonnets,' and the whole thing is settled off-hand, and 
 I despise her and myself more than ever. I don't
 
 62 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 for a moment wish to be one of the emancipated. 
 But I am doubly hampered, as I daresay those delight- 
 ful date-merchants told you last night, by being not 
 only a woman, but a woman of unlimited resources. 
 "Whenever I meet a man worth knowing, I feel I 
 shall do him far more harm than good, and that, 
 simply because I am a woman, like any one of those 
 crowned Armenian harridans beside the barrack walls, 
 I must inevitably work for evil, exactly as that atro- 
 cious Mr Wylie insinuated last night." 
 
 " Oh, you shouldn't speak of yourself like that ! " 
 I cried, gravely. 
 
 " Shouldn't I ? " she answered. " That only shows 
 that you are not so shrewd a judge of character as 
 Mr Wylie." 
 
 " I don't believe in Mr Wylie," said I. " He's not 
 true, and he's not straight. I don't know, and I don't 
 in the least care, what it was he had the impertinence 
 to whisper to you before you rose. But after you had 
 both left the room, some man at the table said he had 
 known you all along." 
 
 " They said that ! " cried Mrs Fonblanque quickly, 
 and looking me full in the eyes. "What more did 
 they say ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " He never saw me before last night, and I assure 
 you, Mr Hicks, that I had never seen him before.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 63 
 
 Yet he seemed to know me too. Well, well, a man 
 like that is not worth thinking about. But I am 
 really speaking the truth now. I have worked for 
 evil, even when I thought I was doing most good, and 
 I cannot possibly help it." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " I exclaimed, in profound 
 astonishment. 
 
 That man Wylie evidently held the clue to some 
 terrible secret, and I was now about to hear it. 
 
 " It is very difficult to explain what I mean," she 
 answered. " But stop ! We were talking the other 
 day of men owing their triumphs to women's tears. 
 That was a very girlish theory of mine, and it seemed 
 like old times to hear you talk it over, and bring Hel- 
 vetius and Diderot to bear upon me." 
 
 " No," I said ; " Helvetius was on your side, but he 
 was wrong." 
 
 " Of course. Women invariably are wrong, and so 
 are all who take their part. You make the laws. It 
 is very easy to say, this is right and that is wrong, 
 if one has a muscular arm and a stout bludgeon in 
 one's hand." 
 
 " No doubt it is," I answered. " But still the mus- 
 cular arm seems to me an almost insurmountable diffi- 
 culty." 
 
 "I daresay Eve found it so," rejoined Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. " But surely the world has progressed since
 
 64 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 then. Give rue the tiniest pocket-revolver now manu- 
 factured, and take the biggest club you can find, and 
 then let us try conclusions. No, no, Mr Hicks, the 
 reign of brute force is finished, if you please. There 
 is a kind of interregnum just now, and till that is 
 over, we shall no doubt still think our fetters orna- 
 mental. I am no better than the rest. Perhaps I am 
 worse ; for, in spite of Diderot, I still believe in what 
 I said about men owing their triumphs to women's 
 tears. In my time I have almost cried my eyes out, 
 Mr Hicks. To make a real living man, with a real 
 soul in him, with lips to speak and hands to smite — 
 a man who should be as a leader and prophet to his 
 fellows ! You were right. That is all we can strive 
 after, once we realise that our own yearnings must be 
 repressed. But what puppets they are when we have 
 made them — large and limp replicas of ourselves. 
 Sometimes I think that the best men and the truest 
 are those who have never looked into any woman's 
 eyes but their mothers', and who have gone into a 
 monastic seclusion of learned thought and indefatig- 
 able effort, just as I went this morning into that hide- 
 ous costume." 
 
 " You are hard upon us," I said. " Most of us be- 
 lieve in progress. But even logically, there must be 
 followers. We can't all be leaders and prophets." 
 
 " Scarcely," replied Mrs Fonblanque, drily. " But
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 65 
 
 you all talk as if you could be, and you all expect us 
 to believe you. I assure you, Mr Hicks, that men as 
 men know nothing of themselves. We are the dic- 
 tionary with which you are translated." 
 
 " And the translation ? " 
 
 " Well, it's not always in heroic verse." 
 
 " Probably not. But surely, Mrs Fonblanque, de- 
 spising us as you do, you have never among your many 
 fancies wished to be a man ? " 
 
 " Have I not ! " she exclaimed. " I would give my 
 fortune, such as it is, to be a man for a few years. To 
 have a woman's quick instinctive brain and a man's 
 power of instant action, to be free from petty spites 
 and jealousies, from headaches and heartaches — what 
 a chance that would give one ! As it is, I can only 
 sit with my hands folded primly in front of me, or 
 make pretty little caps and socks for other people's 
 babies." 
 
 Her voice faltered. I could never imagine Mrs 
 Fonblanque sitting with her hands primly folded in 
 front of her ; but when I looked at her face, there were 
 real tears in her eyes. I gave a sigh of relief. I had 
 begun to think that she really was involved in some 
 awful and inexplicable tragedy. But the tragedy of 
 her life was a very common one after all. She had no 
 children, poor soul ! It was full time to change this 
 morbid line of conversation. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 6Q LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " How about the charming -day we were going to 
 have, Mrs Fonblanque ? " I asked, abruptly. 
 
 " We shall have it yet," she said, entirely changing 
 her mood. " I began by teasing you for never being in 
 earnest, and ended, like a woman, by overdoing it my- 
 self. Vive la bagatelle ! We will have another glass 
 of champagne. Then you can light your cheroot, and 
 as there is no one here to mob us, we will have the 
 curtains rolled up, and drift down the canal as slowly 
 as ever the tinclal likes." 
 
 When we halted for tiffin we were midway between 
 Bussorah and the river. The new canal, unlike the 
 old one, had very few houses overlooking it, and scarcely 
 a soul passed by. The banks were covered with agile 
 little tortoises, getting into the mud and out again ; but 
 when the boatmen had landed our tiffin basket and 
 cushions and retired for a siesta behind a bend in the 
 canal, we seemed to be so completely alone that even 
 the little tortoises disappeared from view. 
 
 Leaving the boatmen to pack up, we walked along 
 the well-shaded bank of the canal. Behind the date- 
 palms, some of which still bore clusters of pale yellow 
 fruit, there were apple-trees and apricot-trees bursting 
 into blossom, and many other familiar fruit-trees one 
 scarcely expected to meet in such strange company. 
 The woodland scenery was pleasant and very homelike, 
 and the sun not too hot.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 67 
 
 " I call this nice/' said Mrs Fonblanque, taking my 
 arm as I half stumbled over an ant's nest. 
 
 « Why ? " 
 
 " Because I thought ' Lalla Eookh ' a fraud when 
 we were in the Bussorah bazaar, and now there is 
 Moore's acacia actually waving her yellow hair at us." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Just behind those stiff and stupid-looking palm- 
 trees under which we took tiffin." 
 
 " Oh, please don't abuse those two particular palm- 
 trees," I said. " They are of different sexes, just like 
 us, and somehow they seem to typify us exactly." 
 
 " Poor palm-trees," she answered, with half a sigh. 
 " I wonder if they like it as much as we do. Eeally, 
 Mr Hicks, I must decline to allow you to typify me 
 any more. It gives one a feeling, somehow, of being 
 caught in a butterfly-net by a gigantic and immensely 
 superior being, and of having a sniff of chloroform 
 while one is being pinned down, painlessly of course, 
 into a specimen cabinet smelling of camphor." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," I said hastily ; " I never " 
 
 " No, I know. But, come now, Mr Hicks, how 
 many fair and sorrowing ladies are typified and docket- 
 ed and stowed away in that cabinet of yours ? " 
 
 " I have no cabinet," I answered. " I tried in the 
 most harmless way in the world to typify the palm- 
 tree, and you accuse me of being bumptious and gigan-
 
 68 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 tic, and heaven knows what besides, and of attempting 
 to caricature you." 
 
 " Scarcely that ; but I think you meant, if you meant 
 anything, to say that one of the palm-trees typified me, 
 and the other palm-tree typified you. We were both 
 in the same boat." 
 
 " No," I answered, quickly. " We were both for- 
 gotten for a moment. I was not thinking of you or 
 myself. I was thinking of Heine's palm and the pine- 
 tree that loved her." 
 
 " Oh ! how was that ? " 
 
 " This is how it was," I said, slowly : — 
 
 11 Upon a fierce Norwegian height 
 
 A pine-tree towers alone, 
 And he slumbers on in his mantle white 
 
 Of snow-drifts round him blown ; 
 And he dreams and dreams of the Morning Land, 
 
 And of one palm watching there, 
 From her burning bed of yellow sand, 
 
 In lone, untold despair." 
 
 " Bravo, Mr Hicks ! If that was your own instead 
 of Heine's, I should say it was very promising, and 
 I should allow you to go on typifying a little longer. 
 If I could paint, though, I should like to paint you as 
 a towering pine-tree, with a great snow-blown mantle 
 around you, and a regular collection of warm and 
 tender types and memories melting in your arms.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 69 
 
 Heine never knew much about his own love affairs. 
 Perhaps he knew nothing at all about the vegetable 
 loves." 
 
 "If you insist upon being disagreeable, I may as 
 well call the boat." 
 
 " Yes, do ; but one moment first. The male palm- 
 trees out here have, with all deference to Heine, a 
 very good time of it, and wouldn't think much of his 
 one palm watching there. They all, I am sorry to 
 say, go in for polygamy, Mr Hicks ; and, judging from 
 the way in which they stand apart, I should say 
 that your two particular palm-trees are just a little 
 eccentric and quarrelsome." 
 
 " Perhaps so," I answered ; " but suppose we drop 
 these personalities. Neither you nor I are either 
 butterflies or palm-trees." 
 
 "How neatly Heine would have put that!" she said, 
 with a little mocking, silvery laugh, " and what a 
 blow it would have been to his bumptious Norwegian 
 pine-tree ! " 
 
 " Yes," I said, reluctantly. " No doubt there is 
 something wrong about those two trees. Their 
 position is a false one — any naturalist, I know, 
 would say that. Wellstead certainly says the Arabs 
 always get the best result by planting a single male 
 tree in the middle of a grove of females " 
 
 " Does he ? And, pray, who is Wellstead ? "
 
 70 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " A famous traveller in these parts, whom Captain 
 Croly was always quoting." 
 
 " Beally ! I am sorry Captain Croly did not quote 
 Mr Wellstead to me. He might perhaps have been a 
 little more entertaining than he was. But I can quote 
 too. Do you remember what the French poet says 
 about the loves of the palm-tree ? " 
 
 " No," I replied frankly, " and I generally avoid the 
 French poet as a dangerous authority." 
 
 " Not in your case," said Mrs Fonblanque, smiling. 
 " I can't translate him as you did Heine ; but, at all 
 events, this is what he says : — 
 
 ' Heureux les pahniers ! leurs amours 
 Vont, sur les ailes de la brise, 
 De l'aniant ignore toujours 
 A l'amante toujours surprise. 
 
 Rien de reel ne vient briser 
 
 L'essor ideal de leurs fievres 
 lis ont l'ivresse du baiser, 
 
 Sans avoir a subir les levres ! J 
 
 And let us hope they were happy. There you are, 
 sir, tit for tat ! " 
 
 It was a pretty idea, and Mrs Fonblanque's French 
 exceedingly taking.
 
 71 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 For a few minutes more we continued our walk along 
 the Bussorah canal ; but as I was thinking over what 
 she said, and was, in spite of her liveliness, rather 
 silent in consequence, Mrs Fonblanque proposed be- 
 fore very long that we should take our seats in the 
 bellem. The tide was ebbing slowly. We told the 
 men to let the boat drift with it. I lit a cigar, and, 
 as I was lighting it, Mrs Fonblanque said, " Shall I 
 sing you a little song, Mr Hicks ? just to begin our 
 charming day, you know, and to show how unneces- 
 sarily concerned you were just now about my heter- 
 odox views. What I said about wishing to be a man 
 and to have a woman's head on a man's shoulders was 
 all nonsense, of course. I know as well as you do, if 
 you would only be good enough to talk, that I am 
 much nicer as it is. But we women are nothing, Mr 
 Hicks, if not contradictory. You remember that old 
 cavalier poem about ' the clean contrary way ' ? Well, 
 that is one of the secrets of our power that all we
 
 72 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 women know and don't often betray. Every woman, 
 no matter how plain she may be, thinks she rules the 
 little world around her ; and to-day, at all events, I 
 mean to rule you if I can. I offered to sing you a 
 little song, sir, to charm away your moodiness, as 
 David charmed Saul's — and you have nothing to say 
 in answer. Wait a moment. Now I have it." 
 
 Then, in a clear, rich, mezzo-soprano voice, Mrs 
 Fonblanque began: — 
 
 " When a lady says ' nay,' 
 She is only in play ; 
 
 She is waiting for you to guess 
 As to how many ' noes ' 
 In your heart you suppose 
 
 Should go to a lady's ' yes.' 
 
 You believe her ; she sighs, 
 There are tears in her eyes ; 
 
 But she laughs behind her fan, 
 For, like all of her sex, 
 She knows how to perplex 
 
 Her natural enemy, man ! 
 
 So I pray you beware 
 Of the terrible snare 
 
 That lurks in a lady's ' no ' ! 
 Prove her * no ' to be wrong, 
 You are her slave lifelong, 
 
 And woe to the vanquished ! woe ! " 
 
 I shivered at the words of this wretched doggerel, 
 but Mrs Fonblanque's voice was so full and sym-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 73 
 
 pathetic, that the last line sobbed along the water as 
 if it had been part and parcel of some grand immortal 
 poem. Then, to my horror, it came back again in a 
 kind of unearthly screech — 
 
 " Woe to the vanquished ! woe ! " 
 
 We both started and looked round. 
 
 The girls from one of the date-packing factories had 
 run out to stare at us, and were trying in a timid 
 noisy sort of way to mimic Mrs Fonblancjue. 
 
 "It almost serves you rioht," I said, "for sinoino; 
 such rubbish. Who on earth taught you a thing like 
 that ? " 
 
 " One of those large and limp replicas of myself of 
 whom I told you before we began our charming day," 
 replied Mrs Fonblanque, mildly. " I can sing, and you 
 can paint, and some day, perhaps, I will really sing to 
 you. But neither you nor I could make a living by 
 packing dates as these girls do." 
 
 " Of course we could not," I said ; " it is not our 
 vidtier. We move on another plane altogether. You 
 can sing, as you say, and I can paint. My daubs are 
 perhaps no better than your doggerel, but there is an 
 individuality behind them, and there is no individu- 
 ality in date-packing." 
 
 " Perhaps not," she answered. " I wouldn't like to 
 sing for my daily bread, though, and whenever I come
 
 74 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 face to face with honest labour I feel terribly ashamed 
 of myself." 
 
 " Oh, if your conscience pricks you," I said, " you 
 can very easily solace it." 
 
 " How ? " she cried, eagerly. 
 
 "The French Eothschild," I replied, "could never 
 have made a livelihood by keeping any one of his 
 own clerks' books. But he was a millionaire ten times 
 over. That was his individuality. A communist, 
 madam, of your way of thinking started a little 
 journal calling for an instant redistribution of pro- 
 perty, especially of the Eothschild property. M. 
 Eothschild asked him to look in. ' There, my man/ 
 he said, giving him a napoleon, ' there's your share 
 and a little over, for there are more than ten million 
 men in the same plight as yourself ! ' " 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque told the boatmen to stop, and she 
 flung the contents of her purse among the girls. 
 
 " Now," she continued, as they scrambled in the mud 
 for her coins, " I can impartially protest against the 
 French Eothschild's way of squaring up accounts, and 
 I can " 
 
 Just then, however, we were run into by a little bel- 
 lem which sank at once, and I had to interrupt our con- 
 versation by going overboard — a horrible nuisance in 
 such muddy waters — to pick up its passenger. Seizing 
 him as best I could, I dragged him alongside our
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 75 
 
 boat, when, to my amazement and perplexity, I found 
 I had hold of my venerable and friendly Arab 
 Sheik. 
 
 We were both, in the local fashion, most profuse in 
 apologies to each other — he for taking me into the 
 water, and I for pulling him out. As we talked, 
 however, the Sheik appeared to shiver a little, and 
 Mrs Fonblanque, in spite of all the old gentleman's 
 remonstrances, insisted upon wrapping him up in her 
 costume to keep the wind out. She buttoned it herself, 
 so there was no more to be said, and there was a quiet 
 dignity about his white beard and grave eyes that pre- 
 vented him looking absurd. 
 
 " We were talking, sir," she said, as calmly as if she 
 were addressing a partner in a ball-room — " we were 
 talking, when you came up, about the painful position 
 of women in Europe. A gentleman was telling me 
 only last night that their position in Asia is in every 
 way more suited to their character. Perhaps you can 
 enlighten us a little." 
 
 " Madam," he replied, courteously, " it is a subject 
 to which I have given much thought and a good deal 
 of practical attention. I have, it is true, only three 
 wives myself. But stay ! It is hardly modest of me 
 to speak of my wives before your husband." 
 
 " Oh, that is all right ! " she said, laughing. " He 
 is not my husband, and the crew don't know any
 
 76 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 English. If you think it would make matters easier, 
 I can add the veil to your picturesque costume." 
 
 He smiled in a sedate, oriental sort of way. " I 
 have only three wives," he continued, " and it is hardly 
 fair to generalise on insufficient data. On the other 
 hand, they happen to be very different in age, 
 temperament, and appearance. Nour Mahal, who is 
 the youngest, I keep in the oriental fashion; and 
 Zuleika, who is ten years older, has charge of the 
 key. Dear old Fatima, my first wife, madam, and 
 the mother of all my children, is free to go about in 
 the European way. But she is very fond of me and 
 intensely proud, and I must say that she keeps herself 
 much more closely veiled than either of the other two." 
 
 " I see," said Mrs Fonblanque. " But do they never 
 fight ? " 
 
 " Oh, that," he answered, " is no business of mine. 
 I see scratches sometimes certainly, and younger men, 
 I believe, regard them as tokens of affection. I am, 
 however, too old to have any deceptions of that kind 
 left. You may take it that my three wives don't fight 
 any more than that gentleman's wife and his two 
 sisters (if he have any sisters and they all live 
 together in the English fashion) fight at home, and 
 he is weak enough to allow any echoes of their 
 quarrels to reach him." 
 
 "I think him weak enough for anything, Sheik,"
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 77 
 
 said Mrs Fonblanque. " But I don't believe he has a 
 wife, so it does not much matter." 
 
 " Not married ! " said the Sheik, looking askance at 
 me. " Grown up and not married ! " 
 
 Here I tried to explain the exact position of my 
 domestic affairs, but Mrs Fonblanque silenced me at 
 once. " Please don't interrupt us," she said. " It is, 
 I assure you^ quite against the rules of oriental 
 etiquette even to allow you to listen." 
 
 " I certainly shan't listen if I am not allowed to 
 talk," I retorted. 
 
 But at that moment the bellem struck against the 
 ladder. The old Sheik seemed to be too stiff to move. 
 I assisted Mrs Fonblanque on to the first step. 
 
 " Poor old man ! " she said, " he is wet through. I 
 hope he has not taken his death of cold. I shall send 
 Priscilla to see that he has a hot bath with half a pound 
 of mustard in it. Priscilla ! " she cried, " Priscilla ! " 
 
 " Oh, you must not do that," I remonstrated. " He 
 is an Arab sheik, remember, and you said you knew all 
 about oriental etiquette." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " she replied, but not unpleasantly. 
 " He is an old man, and a very nice old man, and he, 
 at all events, helped me to spend a charming day. I 
 want to learn a good deal more about his wives. Pris- 
 cilla ! Priscilla!" 
 
 " There is a party from the Eesidency waiting to say
 
 78 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 good-bye," said one of the ship's officers, touching his 
 cap to her. 
 
 "Thank you," she answered. "Pray make my 
 excuses. I can't see any one to-night." 
 
 Then, when he had gone, she said to me quietly, 
 " Let me know when they go, Mr Hicks ; and do 
 please find Priscilla."
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 How the cocks crew all that night ! 
 
 "Those birds are paying you a rare compliment," 
 said I to the chief officer, as I stumbled across him in 
 the dark after dinner. "They evidently take your 
 engineer's efforts to get up steam for the glowing 
 burst of early dawn." 
 
 "Not they, sir," he answered, accepting a cigar. 
 "They are far too wide awake for that. They crow 
 a little louder, if anything, at midnight than at dawn ; 
 and we don't happen to be doing much yet in the way 
 of getting up steam. We can't take in our horses at 
 Mohammerah till daybreak, and we needn't start till 
 three." 
 
 " Why don't you take your horses in here ? " 
 
 " They won't let us. We are not allowed to bribe 
 the officials, and you can take little in at Bussorah, 
 and put very little out, without a good deal of palm- 
 oil. The Custom-house people, who thought they 
 were doing a rare good stroke of business when they
 
 80 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 clapped a heavy export duty on horses, cut their own 
 throats. The Company won't let us bribe them, and 
 so the horse-dealers bribe the frontier officials instead, 
 and smuggle their horses across from Koweit. Offici- 
 ally the trade is completely stopped because no duty 
 is paid, but in reality more horses than ever are ex- 
 ported. A queer people ! " 
 
 " And queer birds," I said ; " I never heard a cock 
 crow like that even in a London suburb at daybreak." 
 
 "Oh, that's nothing," replied the chief officer. 
 "When a cock crows in Bussorah you hear him at 
 Teheran. So the proverb says, — all the cocks along the 
 line taking up the cry, I suppose. It's a queer country, 
 and wants something to keep it awake. But the cocks 
 are not as bad as the watchmen. Listen ! " 
 
 A shrill, strident, melancholy cry that began in the 
 neighbourhood of the agent's bungalow was just then 
 caught up far and near, dying away at last in the re- 
 mote reaches of the Bussorah canal. 
 
 " Why is that ? " I asked. 
 
 " To keep thieves away," he answered. " There is 
 no law here. It's every one and his watchmen for 
 himself." 
 
 " No law ! Why, I escorted a lady through the 
 bazaar to-day, and I never saw a quieter place, or 
 people more sedate." 
 
 " You were lucky, sir," he replied. " Very few of
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 81 
 
 the ladies here ever venture beyond their own com- 
 pounds. Indeed, I know one lady who has not been 
 out of her garden for seven years. There is a certain 
 amount of surly courtesy by daylight. But it is never 
 much at the best, and it all disappears after sundown. 
 There are thirty watchmen armed with rusty old blun- 
 derbusses round our agent's office now, and there are 
 not twice that number of police in the whole of Bus- 
 sorah." 
 
 " You astonish me ! " 
 
 " I can't help that, sir. Last time we were here 
 there was a big fire in the native town, and the soldiers 
 sent to put it out did all the looting." 
 
 " The rascals ! " I cried. " I thought they looked a 
 particularly fine body of men." 
 
 " Oh, the men are good enough. It's the system. 
 Everybody above them handles their pay before they 
 get it, and they are generally eighteen months or two 
 years in arrears. They must live somehow. They pay 
 for nothing. They steal what they can lay hold of. 
 They sell all they can get at, and I don't suppose there 
 is a single cartridge in the garrison now. The men 
 sell their ammunition to the Arabs, and sometimes 
 they sell their rifles too, and the officers daren't say a 
 word. Wait a bit ; there is the English gunboat we've 
 been expecting coming in now from Bushire. What's 
 that ? " 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " That's their salute," I replied. 
 
 " Count their guns. How many ? " 
 
 " Twenty-one," I said, after an interval. 
 
 " Eight you are. Now count the number of guns 
 the Turkish gunboat fires back." 
 
 I waited some time. 
 
 " They are rather long about it," I said. 
 
 " Long about it ! Why, they haven't a charge of 
 powder on board. They sold it all last Tuesday." 
 
 " That's a pretty state of things." 
 
 " Well, yes. You come from Bagdad, I take it. I 
 ran up there this time last year, and the Sultan was 
 buying all the land round about." 
 
 " Yes," I said ; " and what has that got to do with 
 the ammunition ? " 
 
 " A good deal. No one is allowed to bid against the 
 Sultan, and he bought several big estates for next to 
 nothing. That is what all the officials are always try- 
 ing to do. It is a queer country. But look at my arm." 
 
 He rolled his sleeve up under a lamp. 
 
 " That is a pretty good sample of a sabre -cut. We 
 were moored here right under the stern of a British 
 man-of-war when I got that, and I was pitched into 
 the hold directly afterwards, and so were the other 
 five English officers. The lascar crew were supposed 
 to be asleep, and the scoundrels got away with all our 
 specie."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 83 
 
 "What did you do?" 
 
 " Well, you see, I had managed to mark my man 
 with a belaying-jDin before I went down, and as our 
 chief Turkish shipper, and one of our best friends, 
 happened to have a corresponding mark next morning, 
 we said nothing to the police. We kept him on board to 
 doctor him for a day or two. Then somehow or other 
 our specie came back, and now we are better friends 
 than ever. I saw you give him a shove aside this even- 
 ing, when you came up the gangway with the lady." 
 
 This casual allusion to Mrs Fonblanque reminded 
 me that I had never told her of the departure of the 
 visitors from the Eesidency. They had dined on board, 
 and made themselves so extremely agreeable that we 
 had been longer than usual over dinner. 
 
 I went down below and shouted for Priscilla. This 
 time she came at once. 
 
 " Oh, Mr Hicks," said Mrs Fonblanque, suddenly 
 appearing, " I hope I am in time to prevent Priscilla 
 scolding you. I don't want to be forestalled. Why, 
 why have I been condemned to three hours' solitary 
 confinement ? Priscilla tells me that they left at 
 half-past eight, and now it's nine. What did they 
 say of me ? " 
 
 "They said nothing." 
 
 " I suppose your fat little Armenian lady came with 
 them."
 
 84 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " No, she didn't." 
 
 Then I apologised in a sufficiently humble manner, 
 and we went on deck. 
 
 "Do you know, Mr Hicks," said Mrs Fonblanque, 
 after I had settled her comfortably in a canvas chair, 
 " that though I am generally travelling, I hate it, and 
 that there is nothing I dislike so much as change ? 
 I certainly would not care to stop in Bussorah, but 
 still I feel sorry to leave it. Why is that ? " 
 
 " Perhaps without knowing it you are a Conservative 
 at heart." 
 
 " I don't think so," she answered. " My instincts, 
 I fancy, are rather the other way. But, indeed, I 
 don't think I ever had the chance of being anything 
 definite. And what sort of a man would you be, I 
 wonder, if you had never been a boy ? " 
 
 " Ah ! But that was a long time ago." 
 
 "No, no, not very long ago. At all events, you 
 were a boy once, and a very nice boy too, I should 
 think ; fond of boyish games, fond of the pets you 
 kept, and fonder still of the other boys about you, and 
 frank and free and very boyish." 
 
 I could hardly be expected to discuss a question 
 referring so personally to the prehistoric ages. 
 
 " Well," she continued after a pause, " I have never 
 been a girl, and so I suppose I missed the best part of 
 a woman's life. I have never had a pet. I don't
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 85 
 
 believe I ever played a game. I have had no girlish 
 friends. If I look into a child's book now, it's all 
 Greek to me. What should I know about Dora 
 Greenwell's pictures and Caldecott's, the snow and 
 the waits, the red berries, the mistletoe, the holly, 
 and the rest of it ? Why, I was a woman at four- 
 teen, and, looking back a little, I seem to be terribly 
 old." 
 
 " Oh no ! " I exclaimed gallantly ; " I'm sure you 
 can't be thirty yet." 
 
 " Well, no," she said, smiling in the lamplight, " not 
 thirty ; but I am twenty-four." 
 
 " And I am twenty-five ! " I cried, delighted to have 
 got the better of her at last. 
 
 " Are you really ? You don't look twenty-five, Mr 
 Hicks. Yes, yes, you do, if you are really huffed. 
 But you haven't been a man for ten years. You were 
 not born and bred in this wretched Indian climate. 
 And yet, in spite of your additional twelve months, I 
 am sure you will never be able to order me about as I 
 do you." 
 
 " Men don't order women about." 
 
 " No ? Not at twenty-five, perhaps ; and yet there 
 is nothing women like better. You really must take 
 a few lessons from the Sheik. He is a dear old crea- 
 ture, and, I should think, very wise. Fancy three 
 women doting on him ! "
 
 86 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " Stop, Mrs Fonblanque, stop ! He never said they 
 doted on him." 
 
 "I fancy they do, though, Mr Hicks. Did you 
 notice how he pretended to give in at once to rae 
 about wearing that absurd costume of mine, and how 
 pleasantly, in describing his three wives, he suggested 
 that I ought to be kept locked up ? " 
 
 " That's exactly what Mr Wylie said last night." 
 
 "Don't speak to me of Mr Wylie, Mr Hicks. I 
 forbid you ever to mention him again." 
 
 " And pray, Mrs Fonblanque, don't speak to me of 
 the Sheik." 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque laughed. " You are a most teach- 
 able man, Mr Hicks. You are beginning to order me 
 about already, and I really almost like it. But why 
 don't we start ?" 
 
 " We shan't start till three," I said, severely ; " three 
 in the morning." 
 
 " What a nuisance ! If I have to travel, I like to be 
 kept moving. But I really can't go to bed yet. ~No, 
 don't be frightened. I certainly can't keep awake till 
 three ; but tell the steward to bring you a whisky-and- 
 soda on deck before the bar is closed, and then light 
 another cheroot, and we will have a good long chat." 
 
 " Now," continued Mrs Fonblanque, putting her fan 
 down after the steward had disappeared, "tell me 
 candidly what you think of me."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 87 
 
 " I would rather you allowed me to paint your por- 
 trait first." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Why ? Partly because, if I painted your portrait 
 properly, I should paint your real character as well ; 
 and partly because, whether I did my work properly 
 or not, it would occupy me for at least ten days, and 
 so I should, at all events, know you much better than 
 I do now." 
 
 " You don't believe in first impressions, then ? " 
 
 " Yes," I said, doubtfully ; " I always believed in first 
 impressions till last night. And then " 
 
 " And then ? Be cautious, Mr Hicks." 
 
 " Well, as an artist I like you. I never saw a face 
 like yours. Your hair is the hair of the old Grecian 
 goddesses, and your eyes — well, I could, perhaps, 
 paint them in a picture, but I can't describe them." 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque half rose as she shook her fan at 
 me, and made me a charming little courtesy. 
 
 " If you will really allow me to paint you," I con- 
 tinued, "I think I shall make one of the finest 
 pictures in the world. But please let me paint you 
 before you ask anything more." 
 
 " I shall do nothing of the kind. Though you seem 
 to think a good deal more of your art than you do of 
 me, I don't know whether you can paint or not. And 
 I don't care for impressions ten days old. I have
 
 88 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 asked a frank question. Give me a frank answer. 
 What do you think of me now, Mr Hicks, and what 
 did you think of me when you saw me first ? " 
 
 " Oh — then ? I thought you very beautiful indeed, 
 and very unreasonably angry." 
 
 " And now ? " 
 
 "All my artistic instincts are with you, and your 
 eyes and your hair. But " 
 
 "But . . . what?" 
 
 "Well, when I told you my name, you said you 
 liked the Hector but didn't know about the Hicks; 
 and in the same way I like the Fonblanque, and don't 
 quite know about the Wylie." 
 
 "You dare to couple my name with that man's," 
 she cried, "and that two minutes after I had dis- 
 tinctly told you never to mention him in my hearing 
 again ! Do you know how dreadfully rude you are, 
 Mr Hicks ? You may drink your whisky-and-soda 
 by yourself now. I have a good mind to tell that 
 dear, courteous old Sheik about your rudeness. He 
 would never have said such a mean and ungallant 
 thing as that." 
 
 " He will tell his three wives if you do," I retorted, 
 feeling a little uncomfortable as she rose. 
 
 " Of course he will," said Mrs Fonblanque, beginning 
 to move away; " and I hope he will tell everybody how 
 disagreeable you contrive to make yourself."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 89 
 
 "Perhaps he will," I cried, just before she dis- 
 appeared; "but he'll know that I was right after 
 all." 
 
 That was not a very pleasant way of beginning a 
 long sea voyage, was it ?
 
 90 
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 
 In spite of crowing cocks, noisy watchmen, rattling 
 chains, and swarms of bloodthirsty sandflies, I man- 
 aged to tide over the night. I awoke, however, in a 
 sulky sort of morning nightmare that many men feel, 
 I imagine, when they happen to have made fools of 
 themselves overnight. It is a peculiar feeling this, 
 and intensely disagreeable while it lasts, for you 
 cannot, for the life of you, help cross - examining 
 yourself in the cruellest and abruptest manner. The 
 Quartermaster, who was superintending the washing 
 of the decks, understood it at once. He laughed 
 when I explained my symptoms and invited his sym- 
 pathy, and then without asking my leave he turned 
 one of his lascars' hoses upon me as I stood there, 
 and played away lustily until I felt quite braced and 
 robust again. 
 
 " Cold water is a grand thing," cried I, shaking my- 
 self like a Newfoundland dog. 
 
 " And a capital cure for whisky, hot or cold," said
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 91 
 
 the Quartermaster. " The deck of a steamer, sir, with 
 the salt water playing about it, is a hydropathic estab- 
 lishment in miniature. ' Canst thou not minister to a 
 mind diseased ? ' asks Shakespeare. I think I can. 
 A man with a hose in his hand can drive the cob- 
 webs out of anybody's brains in a minute or two, while 
 the use of a coarse towel afterwards makes everything 
 much pleasanter all round." 
 
 This was pretty good for a rough-tongued Quarter- 
 master on an Indian steamer at daybreak. When I 
 last chanced to pass through Turnham Green we en- 
 countered a large charity school, walking two and two. 
 " They will all be philosophers and scholars some day, 
 Hector," said my uncle, shrugging his shoulders, " and 
 if you and I can't pay for their forcing-beds we shall 
 lose our raison cletver 
 
 I remembered the charity school, and so the Quar- 
 termaster's language scarcely surprised me. Soaked 
 though I was to the skin, I had only come face to 
 face with my uncle's problem, and the old man's 
 crotchets still seemed so quaint and kindly that I tried 
 to put myself in his place and to speak as like him as 
 I could. 
 
 " Ah ! you are something of a scholar, and a bit of 
 a philosopher," I remarked, pulling my wet sleeping- 
 jacket decently around me. 
 
 "Not I, sir," replied the Quartermaster. "I am
 
 92 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 only a married man, but I happened to be on duty last 
 night when the lady gave you her mind." 
 
 " Dear me ! " I said, almost involuntarily ; " the lady 
 you speak of is nothing to me, and our casual acquaint- 
 ance seems to have attracted a very unnecessary 
 amount of attention." 
 
 " Well," answered the Quartermaster, looking at me 
 keenly, "I know nothing of that. But the ladies, 
 God bless them ! have no business on board ship. 
 Polly, poor lass, may scold me as much as she likes 
 when she has stowed the bairns away in their bunks 
 in our little cottage at Whitby, and I am all the 
 better of it. It does a man good, when he is ashore, 
 to be henpecked and hencooped. Once shipped, I 
 like, of course, to think of Polly and the bairns when 
 I am swinging in my hammock down below, but as 
 soon as I am on deck again I try to do my duty to the 
 ship." 
 
 The mere thought of Polly and her bairns, four or 
 five thousand miles away though they were, gave a 
 sudden pathetic depth to the Quartermaster's honest 
 brown eyes. 
 
 We are queer creatures. Somehow or other the 
 Quartermaster had touched a chord that might some 
 day, perhaps, make the sweetest music in the world to 
 me, and, rough as he was, I looked at him in real 
 admiration.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 93 
 
 " I should like to typify you and Polly, if you will 
 let me," I said, humbly. " I think I can almost see my 
 way towards reconciling my uncle to the problem." 
 
 " Thank you kindly, sir," answered the Quarter- 
 master, removing his quid. " But neither Polly nor I 
 know anything of your uncle or the problem. No 
 offence, sir ; but suppose you typify yourself first, and 
 do the best you can for Number One. Take my 
 advice, sir. You seem to be shivering a little just 
 now. Walk the quarter-deck for an hour, and you'll 
 have an appetite for breakfast. I know nothing about 
 typifying, but walk, sir, walk." 
 
 " I hope you didn't think me too abrupt," I began, 
 " in offering to typify you and Mrs . . . Mrs Polly." 
 
 " No, no ! " said he. " Not I — I am not a scholar ; 
 but I spent a fortnight once at Aberdeen, and all the 
 professors there walked like mad. They had the in- 
 stinct of it. They taught me a wrinkle that no philo- 
 sophy can ever teach. Only get a hearty appetite, sir, 
 and you won't care a fig for all the troubles and all 
 the women in the world, let alone typifying Polly and 
 me." 
 
 I smiled at the worthy Quartermaster's advice, but 
 nevertheless I followed it, as I always follow the 
 advice I smile at. It is the advice I don't smile at 
 that I don't follow. I walked the quarter-deck till I 
 was tired, and as the ship was already at anchor, and
 
 94 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 the deck very limited in area, the experiment was not 
 exactly lively. However, I made a comfortable and 
 very leisurely toilet before I went in to breakfast. 
 
 Never, perhaps, out of Noah's ark were a more in- 
 congruous set of living creatures gathered together 
 for the simple purpose of taking food in common. 
 At the top of the table, of course, sat our skipper 
 — a bluff, tough old salt, if ever there was oue — 
 with keen eyes, a hard mouth, and closely cropped 
 grey whiskers. His weather-beaten face, twisted and 
 contorted into twenty different kindly humours, would 
 have betrayed him at any table in the world, while 
 his easy roll as he walked was unmistakable. You 
 could not, however, talk to him for five minutes 
 without learning that, if things had gone right, he 
 ought to have been a cavalry officer. On his right 
 sat Mrs Fonblanque, charming as ever, and trying 
 not to look querulous after an uneasy night. On 
 his left there was an uncommonly pretty young Nun 
 from one of the Catholic nunneries in Teheran. The 
 white band across her forehead only acted as a foil 
 to her faint blushes. She blushed faintly whenever 
 her eyes drooped, and that was whenever anybody 
 looked at her. Beside her sat the Sheik. He came 
 in late, as I did. But when Mrs Fonblanque sent 
 Priscilla for him, he came without further hesitation ; 
 and as the gentle little Nun, in alarm, perhaps, at
 
 LADY BLUEBEAED. 9o 
 
 his appearance, half rose from her seat, he court- 
 eously waved her to her place, sat down beside her, 
 and helped her to fish. 
 
 I had just come out of my cabin at the time, and, 
 with my hand on the chair next Mrs Fonblanque's, 
 I was admiring the typical contrast between the 
 Sheik and the Nun, when a gentleman said, " By 
 your leave, sir," and tried to slip into it. I had 
 taken the precaution of putting my card on the plate 
 before I went to dress, and so I felt quite justified 
 in saying sotto voce, " Confound your impudence ! " 
 He stared at me, and then, taking the seat next 
 mine, he tried to make the Nun talk, and failed 
 signally. Then he was good enough to talk to me; 
 but as the Captain and I were full of some extra- 
 ordinary new method of attack by cavalry — a horse- 
 marine sort of business at the best — he did not get 
 much change out of that. Imperturbable to the last, 
 he appealed to Mrs Fonblanque, and to my intense 
 disgust she replied briskly. I held on with the skip- 
 per as long as I could. But Mrs Fonblanque's im- 
 pressive interest in my neighbour's vapid talk was 
 a little too much for me. 
 
 I had been quite right in the language I had used 
 at first. He was evidently a man who required sitting 
 upon. 
 
 " Beally, sir," I said quietly, giving his elbow a jog
 
 96 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 so as to make him upset the coffee-pot, " I must 
 ask you to be good enough not to mistake me for 
 your coffee-cup." 
 
 " A thousand pardons ! " he cried, looking round 
 at me rather curiously for a moment. " A thousand 
 pardons ! I was saying, madam," he continued, " that 
 life on board ship is always pleasant. One's fellow- 
 passengers are always amiable. Everybody puts his 
 best side forward, and if the voyage is not too long, 
 you have no time to find out that there is such a 
 thing as a reverse side. I assure you," he added, 
 turning to me, "you have no sort of resemblance to 
 a coffee-cup." 
 
 " I really don't think he has," said Mrs Fonblanque. 
 " What do you say, Mr Hicks ? " 
 
 " I am afraid I didn't catch the first part of the 
 gentleman's remarks." 
 
 " Oh, that doesn't matter. It had nothing whatever 
 to do with what he says just now," she replied, looking 
 rather amused at my discomfiture. 
 
 I had never been called a coffee-cup before, and I 
 thought that they might both be laughing at me. This 
 was intolerable. It was time to turn the tables. 
 
 I began mildly. " You have travelled much ? " 
 
 " Oh no," he answered. " I have done most things 
 most men do. I have been round the world three or 
 four times. I have been a cow-boy in Chili, and a
 
 LADY BLUEBEAED. 97 
 
 diamond seeker at the Cape. I have practised at the 
 Bar. I have served on the Jury. I have had to hang 
 a man or two with my own hands. A mere acci- 
 dent," he explained, turning to the Nun, who had 
 shivered a little as he spoke ; " they might have had 
 to hang me." 
 
 " This is most interesting," said Mrs Fonblanque ; 
 " and besides all this ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " he said lightly, now that he had got the 
 whip-hand of the skipper and me, " I have edited a 
 newspaper — of course a hanging matter in itself any- 
 where — and then I have taught in the Sunday-school, 
 managed a line of steamers, been through a couple of 
 campaigns, kept a dry-goods store in the gold-fields, 
 and a billiard-saloon in Little Windmill Street." 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " said Mrs Fonblanque, drawing 
 her chair towards the Captain's, " what an extraor- 
 dinary man you must be ! " 
 
 " No," he answered ; " there are thousands like me. 
 I am a representative man if you like, an unripe pro- 
 duct of the nineteenth century. I am just a trifle 
 before my day. That is all. In a few years more 
 anybody who wants to do anything, or write anything 
 worth attending to, will have to follow in my footsteps. 
 The world now is the only schoolroom for grown-up 
 men, the only field in which a man can show what he 
 is made of." 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 98 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " And what are you made of, sir ? " asked Captain 
 Forbes. 
 
 " Common clay, not China clay," he said quietly, — 
 " of the sins and follies, and foibles and virtues, of my 
 ancestors, such as they were. We are," he continued, 
 helping himself to marmalade — " we are all puppets, 
 and our forebears pull the strings. When I do any- 
 thing mean, or when a glow of genuine enthusiasm 
 goes through me, I say, ' That's the first Norman baron,' 
 'that's the daughter of the Lady Mayoress.' I only 
 wish I could start fresh, clean, and unblemished from 
 a sculptor's packing-case. Then I might have a future. 
 Now my future, like yours, sir, is behind me. Still 
 there are potentialities about this new departure and 
 this vagabond life of mine, and the next great poet 
 must be able to express them." 
 
 The Nun's astonished but very soft and eloquent 
 eyes fell upon him like a tranquil blessing, and even 
 the skipper began to be interested. 
 
 " What do you think, Sheik ? " I said, fairly aroused 
 at last. 
 
 " I never think," said the Sheik. " A hundred 
 thousand pardons, Captain ! It was stupid of me. I 
 spilt my coffee accidentally, and not at all in approval 
 of their little accident." 
 
 The Sheik was evidently on my side. Encouraged 
 by this unexpected support, I had just begun to frame
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 99 
 
 a withering retort to my neighbour's claims of an 
 illustrious ancestry, when I heard the chief officer 
 address the enemy. 
 
 " I think I saw you, mister, outside a little tent on 
 the canal the day before yesterday, inviting the public 
 to come in and be photographed ? " 
 
 " You did, sir," he said. " That is my present 
 line of business. One's ancestors hamper one terribly, 
 but they forgot to supply bread and butter. They 
 leave us to settle pecuniary matters for ourselves ; and 
 on the whole, it may be best. I hope, madam," he 
 said to Mrs Fonblanque, " that when the voyage be- 
 comes tedious, I shall have the pleasure of taking your 
 portrait." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mrs Fonblanque, smiling, " that is just 
 what the other gentleman wants to do." 
 
 " It is as I thought, sir," cried he. " I ought never 
 to have mistaken your physiognomy for a moment. 
 We are — of course we are — brothers in Art." 
 
 I looked so ineffably disgusted, that the Nun and 
 the Sheik both began to tell their beads. This gave 
 the Sheik fresh confidence, and, after a decent interval, 
 he broke the pause by asking if I had finished my 
 painting of Ezra's Tomb. 
 
 " Oh, I see it all now ! " interrupted my abominable 
 neighbour. " You are only a painter, and you are still 
 a little bit huffed because the sun has put your nose
 
 100 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 out of joint. I appeal to you, madam, impartially. 
 What is the use of being a painter nowadays ? I tried 
 it myself fifteen years back. The whole thing is played 
 out. I'd far rather make tombstones than paint them. 
 One must move on with the times." 
 
 " I must move, at all events," said the Captain, 
 gruffly. " They seem to be letting the horses kick the 
 ship to pieces." 
 
 " Don't go on deck yet," said my neighbour as the 
 ladies rose. " Come to the bar and have a cocktail." 
 
 I was about to give him my mind pretty freely, 
 when Mrs Fonblanque touched me on the shoulder 
 and said, " I want to speak to you, Mr Hicks." 
 
 Unfortunately, however, I never learned what she 
 wanted to tell me. Captain Forbus (as he liked to be 
 called) was waiting for us at the top of the companion, 
 and there was no escape from his hospitable arm. 
 Mrs Fonblanque took it, withdrawing her arm from 
 mine with a gentle pressure which, though I could not 
 even at the time interpret it properly, seemed full of 
 eloquent meaning. She gave me a look more eloquent 
 still. "Had I a speaking-trumpet," she seemed to 
 signal, " I might perhaps explain everything. Noth- 
 ing short of that would possibly help us in this awful 
 hurly-burly, and that would probably spoil all our 
 mutual confidences." 
 
 I tacitly acquiesced. And, indeed, the deck as we
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 101 
 
 saw it, coming fresh from the saloon, was a Babel, a 
 Chaos, a Kingdom of Honyhuhum. 
 
 There were horses alongside in huge barges, horses 
 in mid-air, horses on deck, and Arab and Persian 
 horse-keepers everywhere with Persian cats and Per- 
 sian greyhound pups under their arms. Such a jab- 
 bering, neighing, barking, mewing, praying, swearing, 
 was surely never heard before. 
 
 " That is Mohammareh," shouted the Captain, lead- 
 ing us aft. 
 
 " And what is Mohammareh ? " asked Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, when we were well on the edge of the row. 
 
 " That is Mohammareh," continued Captain Forbes, 
 pointing to a line of low, insignificant brick-buildings 
 and mud-huts. " Not much to look at it, is it ? And 
 yet, if the Shah would only bestir himself, he could 
 make it into a second Liverpool." 
 
 " I doubt if that would be desirable," I said, curtly. 
 " I hate Liverpool. But why, and how ? " 
 
 From the tone in which I spoke, Mrs Fonblanque 
 seemed to divine that I had not quite forgiven Captain 
 Forbes for taking her away from me. 
 
 " Why, Captain Forbes ? " she asked gently, so as to 
 remove the last remnant of a grievance on my part. 
 
 " Why, madam ? " said the Captain, coolly taking 
 her left hand in his right and using it as a pointer. 
 " Look before you. We are not on the Shet-el-Arab
 
 102 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 now, but on a canal as old, at all events, as Herodotus 
 who described it. The canal connects our river in less 
 than a mile with the Karun, a river almost as big as 
 ours, and quite as important " — and here he gave Mrs 
 Fonblanque's hand a quite unnecessary nourish. " But 
 though the Karun river runs right through the most 
 fertile part of Persia, the Shah won't allow a single 
 steamer on it." 
 
 " And why is the Shah permitted to object ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Why ? Because England is nowhere now at 
 Teheran, and because, like it or not, he has to take 
 his orders from the Czar. An English Karun Eiver 
 Flotilla Company could change Persia into a rich 
 country to-morrow, and give her as much gold as she 
 wants for the corn and wool that have to lie there and 
 rot there now. As it is, Persia is bankrupt, and 
 Mohammareh is nowhere." 
 
 " Why do you stop here, then ?" said Mrs Fonblanque, 
 rather pettishly, regaining possession of her left hand, 
 and favouring me with a side-glance of immense 
 relief. 
 
 " For our horses," answered the Captain. " Their 
 absurd restrictions compel us to smuggle our horses on 
 board somewhere, and tins is a convenient spot. The 
 Sheik's people are always obliging, and very different 
 from the Custom-house officers at Bussorah. You
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 103 
 
 heard us fire a gun off early this morning ? That is 
 all the backsheesh they want ; and there is not much 
 change to be got out of that, for they always return 
 the salute." 
 
 " I heard their guns go," said Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " That is their battery over there," said the skipper, 
 handing me his glasses. " There, beyond the Sheik's 
 pretty little English steam-yacht, you see a very old 
 and very tall fig-tree, the biggest and oldest fig-tree I 
 ever saw, but not so old as the battery of rusty old 
 Portuguese guns below it." 
 
 " Can't we go there and look at the guns ? " I asked. 
 "Are the Sheik's people worth a visit ? " 
 
 " That depends," said Captain Forbes, " on what you 
 expect to find. They were a set of bloodthirsty 
 pirates until his wife made old Hadji Djaber respect- 
 able. She was a wonderful woman, if you like, and 
 ruled him with a rod of iron for five-and- twenty 
 years." 
 
 " A Circassian lady, I presume ? " said the Sheik, 
 who, having finished his hubble-bubble in some retired 
 corner of the quarter-deck, had unexpectedly joined 
 our party. 
 
 " I think she was," replied the Captain, " and any- 
 how a rare good sort. She was fond of her old man 
 and her own way. She knew that old gentlemen like 
 him joke about their old wives."
 
 104 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " How extremely rude ! " said Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," answered Captain Forbes. 
 " I am not a married man myself, but I can quite 
 understand an old buffer like me saying to another old 
 buffer, what some one said a long time before either of 
 us were born, that when your wife is forty years old, 
 you ought to be allowed to change her for two of 
 twenty." 
 
 " Stop, stop, Captain Forbes ! " cried Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. 
 
 " If you have never heard anything worse than that, 
 madam, you have never heard much that will hurt 
 you. In the mouth of an Englishman that's a very 
 harmless joke. But in the case of a good Mohammedan 
 
 with a large harem, it might, I own, play the very 
 
 It might, I mean, be awkward." 
 
 " Pray, say what you mean," said Mrs Fonblanque 
 severely, " and tell us how it was that Mrs Hadji 
 Djaber brought her husband to his senses." 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am," replied the Captain ; " there's 
 nothing like plain sailing after all, and when you are 
 as old as she was, you will care as little as she did for 
 anybody's criticism. She went into the background 
 herself, and made it her business to have the country 
 round scoured for new wives for her husband." 
 
 " What a dreadful old woman ! " exclaimed Mrs 
 Fonblanque, adjusting her wraps with a shiver.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 105 
 
 "She really must have been a Circassian," said 
 the Sheik. " They are the cleverest women in the 
 world." 
 
 " She was all that," said the Captain. " She gave 
 him as many fresh wives as he liked. She kept a 
 Mulla of her own to marry them, and a list of de- 
 serving officials, who would be proud to provide a 
 home for them afterwards, and she never had a rival 
 in her life ! " 
 
 " I must tell Fatima of this," said the Sheik to Mrs 
 Fonblanque. " She is a good, faithful old creature, 
 but intensely Conservative. Her views in this way 
 are sadly behind the age. But ever since I bought 
 her, Fatima has been an aristocrat at heart, and if 
 anything a trifle too much inclined to follow the 
 habits of the aristocracy. And after all, the Sheik 
 of Mohammareh is somebody." 
 
 " I should think so," cried the Captain. " He has a 
 steady income of six hundred thousand krauns a-year. 
 He is a good deal thought of locally, and well looked 
 after in high quarters, I can tell you. Every now and 
 then the Governor of Fars pays him the compliment 
 of a state visit, which lasts until it is worth the 
 Sheik's while to give his Highness something hand- 
 some to retire." 
 
 "Their arrangements seem to be very funny all 
 round," said Mrs Fonblanque. " Come, Captain
 
 106 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 Forbes, won't you allow Mr Hicks and me to 
 interview this eccentric old couple ? " 
 
 " Very sorry, ma'am," said the Captain, gruffly. 
 " The steamer sails directly, and the old Sheik and his 
 wife both happen to be dead and buried. Their son, 
 Sheik Muzel, isn't worth a visit, and, if rumour is 
 true, doesn't care much for ladies' society. It is 
 almost quiet now forward. Come and see them 
 taking in the last of the horses instead."
 
 107 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " A ship always reminds me of a big machine/' I said 
 to Mrs Fonblanque, as soon as the Captain had safely 
 ensconced us all on the bridge. 
 
 " Another type ! Take care, take care, Mr Hicks ! 
 That typical palm-tree almost did for you. But a ship 
 is a big machine. What else could it remind you 
 of?" 
 
 " Of fifty thousand things, if I were in the humour 
 for them," I replied. " But you are right. It is a big 
 machine. Captain Forbes pulls a handle, rings a bell, 
 or gives a shout, and the whole mechanism, after a 
 groan or two from stem to stern, implicitly obeys him. 
 Look at the horses they are taking in. A sailor and a 
 horse have about as little in common as any two living 
 creatures, and yet " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr Hicks," said the Captain, 
 impressively. " You are altogether out. The ship 
 groans because the agents won't put her steering gear 
 in order ; they are to blame, not me ; and quite apart
 
 108 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 from that, no one can manage a horse like a sailor. 
 Look at my men taking in their horses." 
 
 "That is exactly what I wanted Mrs Fonblanque 
 to look at," I answered, " and that is exactly what I 
 meant when I talked of your ' mechanical system.' It 
 is simply perfect." 
 
 " Our mechanical system be . . . blessed," cried 
 the Captain. 
 
 " Look at them," exclaimed the Sheik, almost warm- 
 ing into enthusiasm. " Look at those brutes of Persians. 
 Look at that one. They tie a rope round each of his 
 legs ; they fasten a sling round his body. See how he 
 kicks. It's no good. They hold on. He is hoisted 
 from the boat to the deck. He falls. No, he doesn't. 
 He picks himself up completely broken in, trots after 
 his horse-keeper like a lamb, and is quietly wedged in 
 between two strange horses. Wonderful ! I never 
 saw anything like it in the desert, where all our 
 horses are thoroughbreds, living and feeding with us 
 in our tents. ' A wise man to manage a woman, but 
 a wiser to manage a horse.' That is our proverb, 
 madam ; what do you say ? " 
 
 " And what do you think, Mrs Fonblanque ? " asked 
 the Captain, considerably mollified. "You hear the 
 Sheik. He ought to know. Do you call this sailors' 
 mechanism ? " 
 
 "No," said Mrs Fonblanque, "of course I don't.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 109 
 
 It's a very, very old trick. You frighten your horses, 
 and then they give in. Poor papa used to do it every 
 Sunday morning before church, though he wasn't a 
 sailor, and hadn't a ship to hoist his horses into." 
 
 " Perhaps he had been a sailor ? " said the skipper. 
 
 " Perhaps he had," rejoined Mrs Fonblanque. " He 
 must have been everything, I think, for he knew every- 
 thing. At all events he could break in the wildest 
 countrybreds in the half-hour before church by tying 
 their heads and tails together, and showing them they 
 were helpless. I used to beat a tin kettle in front so 
 as to frighten them — I was a child at the time — and 
 they used to spin round like teetotums, till they gave 
 in. Papa used to say that his plan was far kinder 
 and smarter than Earey's." 
 
 " I have not the slightest doubt of it," said the 
 Captain. " And yet Mr Hicks would tell you that it 
 was all mechanism, depending on the ropes between 
 the head and the tail." 
 
 According to my uncle, I always spent half my 
 time in getting myself thoroughly misunderstood, 
 and the other half in trying to prove my complete 
 acquiescence in everything that exists. Still, after 
 my morning's experience with the Quartermaster, I 
 could not well quote my uncle again. 
 
 " I assure you, Captain Forbes," I said, " that when 
 I talked about mechanism, I simply meant to say that
 
 110 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 you sailors had made your arrangements so perfect 
 that they could not possibly be bettered. Were it 
 necessary, I have no doubt you could take in a cargo 
 of elephants." 
 
 " Well ! I don't know about a cargo," said the 
 Captain in his old genial way. " Elephants stow 
 badly. But I once took four in." 
 
 " Oh ! how was that ? " 
 
 "The King of the Belgians," he replied, "thought that 
 a few educated Indian elephants would soon civilise all 
 the wild elephants in Africa if they only had the 
 chance. He put poor old Carter at the head of the 
 expedition." 
 
 " Why poor old Carter ? " I interrupted. 
 
 " Because we were all sorry to lose him, and because 
 we were all certain he would never come back. He 
 was as well known at Maagil and Bussorah as I 
 am on my own quarter-deck, and he was so much 
 of an Arab that they always called him the White 
 Sheik." 
 
 " I never heard of any White Sheik in Arabia," said 
 the Sheik, sceptically, " and the lady was, I think, ask- 
 ing you about the elephants ? " 
 
 " Well, Carter was in charge of the elephants that 
 were to regenerate Africa. We shipped them at 
 Bombay without the least trouble, and my officers 
 and I laughed a little afterwards at the extraordinary
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. Ill 
 
 fuss they made at home about shipping Jumbo. Our 
 elephants, though, were failures from the first, and 
 instead of training the African elephants, they turned 
 wild themselves and bolted into the jungle." 
 
 "And the White Sheik ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh ! he was a failure too, so far as success goes. 
 He died, riddled through and through with assegais, 
 and that was the end of it. I only mentioned the 
 elephants to show what we could do. But I shouldn't 
 care to take any more elephants to Africa." 
 
 " And the horses ? " I suggested. " I suppose you 
 make a good thing out of them. The ship is full of 
 horses. They must be worth a pot of money to you ? " 
 
 " Not a red cent. They are so many pawn-tickets, 
 nothing more. It's a curious trade, and no one but 
 the captain of a British-India steamer can understand 
 it properly." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Mrs Eonblanque, good-naturedly. 
 
 " Why ? " answered the Captain. " Why ? because 
 no money changes hand. The dealers scour the 
 country, and pick up their horses anywhere between 
 this and Aleppo, and promise to pay for them when 
 they return from India. They pay us nothing for 
 carrying their horses down to Bombay. But we 
 keep all the horses on board until the stablemen 
 there bail them out by promising the freight; and 
 they don't let them out of their stables, you may be
 
 112 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 sure, till their own charges are paid. The buyer 
 really pays everybody all round." 
 
 " And man, as Buffon has it, is," I said, " the noblest 
 conquest of the horse." 
 
 " It is very like the story of the old woman and 
 her pig," said Mrs Fonblanque, leaning on the rail; 
 "everything comes right in the end." 
 
 " Yes," answered Captain Forbes ; " the dealers get 
 over the stile eventually, and go home passage free 
 with their pockets full of money." 
 
 " An admirable system," cried the horrible man who 
 had separated Mrs Fonblanque and myself at break- 
 fast, and who had at last torn himself away from the 
 bar. " There is a future in that chain of childlike 
 confidences. What a splendid Limited Liability Com- 
 pany one might make out of it without spending a 
 shilling in promotion money. I have knocked about 
 the world a good deal in my time, and here at last, 
 in this outlandish place, I find the very apotheosis 
 of credit." 
 
 " Not credit, sir," said the Sheik, shortly. " Not 
 credit, but trust. A Bedouin," he continued, almost 
 glowering like an Englishman, " though you, sir, may 
 scarcely believe what I say, cannot tell a lie." 
 
 " No ? " said the passenger, huskily. 
 
 " No," said the Sheik, resuming his quiet, emphatic 
 Arab way. " All the horses you see here have been
 
 LADY BLUEBEAED. 113 
 
 picked up, haphazard fashion, from our travelling 
 encampments. The dealers, once they have the 
 money in their bags, often spend months in tracing 
 out the owners as they travel, and I have never yet 
 met an owner who had lost his money." 
 
 " That is so," said the skipper. " Still your Bedouins 
 don't think much of robbery or murder on the road 
 down. They cut each other's throats, when they don't 
 get the chances of cutting anybody else's. They stuff 
 everything they come across into the saddle-bags in 
 which they keep their food and cooking-pots, — Persian 
 cats, greyhound puppies, old prayer-carpets, women's 
 finery, sheepskin coats, chunks of tea or tobacco, and 
 all the other odds and ends that clever thieves can 
 put together on the highroad. All the dogs and 
 cats and old carpets those men down below have are 
 stolen." 
 
 "That's another thing altogether," exclaimed the 
 Sheik, still keeping his eye on the passenger I so 
 intensely disliked. "They are rough, ignorant men, 
 I grant you ; but they never said they wouldn't 
 take what they found, or wouldn't kill whom they 
 could. That gentleman, however, seems to approve 
 of a deliberate lie in order that he, and what he calls 
 a Limited Liability Company, may make money out 
 of our implicit confidence in one another." 
 
 " Never mind, Sheik," said Mrs Fonblanque ; " we 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 all want to make money. It's just the same in the 
 date trade." 
 
 " The date trade and the horse trade are two very 
 different things, madam," he replied. " I breed horses 
 myself, and sell them ; but I'm neither a shopkeeper 
 nor a date merchant. No Arab ever yet sold a horse 
 without regretting it. And no Arab horse-dealer ever 
 lied over a horse, or tried to palm off an inferior 
 animal even on his worst enemy. We love our 
 horses too well for that. We envy their purchasers, 
 and then, our own reputations are staked on our 
 horses." 
 
 "They are not so particular in Europe, I assure 
 you," said the Captain. "It is the one trade there 
 in which a gentleman is allowed to tell a fib. I 
 bought a fine horse from a friend last time I was 
 laid up in the Victoria Docks ; and, in spite of his 
 warranty and a double allowance of oats, I could 
 not, for the life of me, persuade the beast to go 
 beyond the Minories. And what, I ask any of you, 
 is the use of a horse in Whitechapel when one wants 
 to ride in the Park ? " 
 
 " Thank you, Captain," said the passenger, " you 
 evidently think " 
 
 "Never mind what I think," said the Captain, 
 rather roughly; "that's my business, not yours.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 115 
 
 Time is up, Mr Hicks. You'll hear a good deal 
 more of those horses yet before you have done with 
 them. But I must ask you all to be good enough 
 to step down from the bridge, so as to let me get 
 our big machine, as you call it, under way again."
 
 11 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The river's banks, after we left Mohammareh, were 
 scarcely a foot above the water. The bank on the 
 starboard, side was still covered with an almost inter- 
 minable fringe of date -trees. Sometimes a narrow 
 opening revealed a sort of glade, a superior type of 
 what you see in the Alhambra every evening. Only 
 the Alhambra people, no matter how many lime-lights 
 they burn, can never really rival the effect of an 
 Arabian sun, as it is softened and mellowed by the 
 great leaves of a palm forest. Even Mrs Fonblanque, 
 who did not often agree with me, and who knew 
 nothing of the Alhambra, declared that she had never 
 seen anything quite so beautiful as these deep recesses, 
 now bright as emerald, and now gloomy and mysteri- 
 ous, just as the waving palm-trees chose to admit the 
 sun's rays or to shut them out. Sometimes one of 
 these delightful openings showed us the outposts of 
 a village, with horses and camels, buffaloes, sheep, 
 and goats, nibbling at the herbage. Sometimes we
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 117 
 
 had a much closer view of the flocks and herds as 
 they were being watered in the river. But some- 
 where in the background there was always a solitary 
 Arab custodian, and he was always leaning on his 
 spear. 
 
 Everything on the Persian bank, however, was 
 entirely different, for there the low alluvial banks 
 and the innumerable islands were covered only with 
 reeds and grass, and the country inland, as far as a 
 good glass could reach, was evidently swept by the 
 tide at high water. 
 
 After steaming in a leisurely way for an hour or 
 two we came to Fao, where the Turkish cable is 
 landed, and where for some inscrutable reason there 
 is a post-office. The three or four barnlike buildings 
 that stood on a muddy cove, a long way in front of 
 the low range of distant palm-trees, scarcely seemed 
 to justify a weekly mail. However, the steamer came 
 to a dead halt. 
 
 "We stopped here coming up," said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, "and I should not like to go back without 
 knowing something of Fao. Now, gentlemen, which 
 of you will go ashore and bring me an entertaining 
 account of Fao ? " 
 
 " It is all mud," replied the Sheik, " and if you are 
 really interested in mud, Madam Fonblanque, I think 
 you might perhaps take the trouble of nominating the
 
 118 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 explorer. Were I a younger man I would myself 
 volunteer. But what do you say to nominating the 
 very talkative gentleman who sat next you at break- 
 fast?" 
 
 " The very man," cried Mrs Fonblanque. " But he 
 has disappeared. Where is he ? Please find him, 
 Mr Hicks." 
 
 I went, in what the passenger himself would pro- 
 bably have called " an air line," straight to the bar ; 
 and, as he was having an altercation with the barman 
 at the time, he was delighted to carry out Mrs Fon- 
 blanque's wishes. He started with the second officer 
 and the mail-bag — if a great wax seal on a little 
 rag of canvas can be dignified with the name. We 
 watched him pull ashore. Then, in about an hour 
 and a half he returned, looking rather more flushed 
 than when he left us. 
 
 " It was good of you to go," said Mrs Fonblanque, 
 affably. " Come and tell us all about Fao." 
 
 " A horrible place," he answered, deliberately sitting 
 down between Mrs Fonblanque and myself ; " a tele- 
 graph station and nothing else. They only get nine 
 or ten messages a-day." 
 
 " Why so few ? " asked Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " Oh, the line runs on wooden posts, and when the 
 Arabs are pressed for firewood they cut a few posts 
 down; and whenever they are hard up for plunder,
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 119 
 
 they help themselves to two or three hundred yards 
 of wire. But, for all that, there are two big establish- 
 ments. Every message received from India at the 
 English office has to be carried to the Turkish office, 
 and handed over to the Greeks in charge, and vice 
 versd. A dull life I should say, but a more hospitable 
 set of fellows you couldn't meet anywhere. There 
 was any amount of brandy of sorts, and a fairly good 
 billiard-table." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Mrs Fonblanque ; " but 
 brandy and billiard-rooms are so very common every- 
 where that your account scarcely gives me a distinct 
 impression of Fao." 
 
 " Well," he continued, " after our game they insisted 
 upon taking me down to the village among the date- 
 trees, to buy dubbers of rose-water. But that I 
 promptly refused. If you have to water the streets 
 of Cologne with eau de Cologne, they require all the 
 rose-water they can make for Fao ! It is a most 
 awful village for its size," he went on, " and it won't 
 bear description. I must wash the taste of it out of 
 my mouth." 
 
 He gave Mrs Fonblanque a most elaborate bow, and 
 staggered off to the bar. The steamer, which had only 
 hung about without dropping anchor, again got under 
 way. 
 
 The low banks slowly faded out of view. The par-
 
 120 LADY BLUEBEAKD. 
 
 ticularly sweet waters of the Shet-el-Arab grew thick 
 and yellow, and in this waste of mnddy water there 
 was nothing to mark the line where the river entered 
 the Persian Gulf bnt a small black buoy which was 
 changed whenever the bar shifted. Every one on 
 board looked over the vessel's side trying to be the 
 first to discover the buoy. After a time, however, I 
 put my glass aside, and kept my eye on the pilot on 
 the bridge. He was naturally grave and stately, with 
 a very handsome face ; and as he stood there in his 
 Icuffia and his flowing aba, his appearance was singu- 
 larly picturesque. He said nothing, but he passed his 
 beads mechanically through his fingers as he waved a 
 direction to that side or this. He looked at the com- 
 pass now and then, chiefly, it seemed to me, as if he 
 wished to keep his face towards Mecca. I began to 
 lose faith in the pilot. I took up my glass again. 
 Then I saw him give an unusually energetic wave of 
 his right hand, and almost before we could see the 
 buoy we were over it. In another moment we were 
 ploughing heavily through the mud on the bar. This 
 time the mud was too much for us ; and after the 
 screw had churned away for a quarter of an hour, the 
 pilot, consulting the compass once more, called out 
 for his prayer-carpet, and the Captain came off the 
 bridge to tell us that we should have to wait where 
 we were till the next tide lifted the ship. "And
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 121 
 
 now," he added, " we may as well go down to 
 tiffin." 
 
 "Oh, let us have tiffin on deck," cried Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. "It is delightful here." 
 
 " This isn't a Ehine boat," said the Captain, half in 
 despair, but with a good-natured smile on his face all 
 the time. " However, we'll make the best of it, and 
 though this isn't Ehineland, our sparkling hock is the 
 best wine we have on board." 
 
 Captain Forbes was right. His hock was exception- 
 ally good, and, as we had nothing to distract us, we 
 became unusually merry for the time of day. 
 
 "We are bound to make the best of it," said the 
 skipper, calling for another bottle. "We have ten 
 more hours to put in." 
 
 "And I am very glad of it," I cried. "Get Mrs 
 Fonblanque to sing, Captain Forbes. She promised 
 me yesterday that some day or other I should hear 
 her sing really." 
 
 " Did I ? Well, perhaps I did. But not just now, 
 Mr Hicks," she answered, declining another glass of 
 the Captain's wine. 
 
 " I wish you would," pleaded the Captain. 
 
 "Oh, with you it's different. Certainly, Captain 
 Forbes. I will sing something, if you like, to make 
 the time go. Would you mind sending for Priscilla ? " 
 
 Captain Forbes himself went to call Priscilla, and
 
 122 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 that gave Mrs Fonblanque the opportunity she wanted 
 of rating me soundly. 
 
 " I must ask you not to be quite so familiar," she 
 said, quietly. "Some day, perhaps, when you have 
 painted my portrait, I may take the trouble to sing to 
 you really. But when I spoke about really singing, I 
 was speaking in confidence, and you have no business 
 to talk to me, sir, in a way that makes even the com- 
 mon sailors grin. I certainly won't stand that." 
 
 She referred, I suppose, to the Quartermaster, who 
 had preached at me to some purpose at daybreak. 
 He was the only sailor near us, and, at a sign from 
 the Captain, he was letting down one side of the awn- 
 ing to keep the sun out of Mrs Fonblanque's eyes. 
 So far as I could see, he never once glanced round 
 until Captain Forbes returned, driving Priscilla, as it 
 were, before him. 
 
 "Bring my guitar and my banjo," said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, sharply. 
 
 Priscilla brought up two cases and helped her mis- 
 tress to open them. 
 
 "An extraordinary man that passenger of ours," 
 said the Captain to me, as soon as Mrs Fonblanque 
 was busily engaged. " I have had to stop his liquor 
 already, but he was as affable as ever when I came 
 across him down below. He was sitting beside a big 
 portmanteau among the horses, throwing no end of
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 123 
 
 papers overboard. ' What are you doing, my friend ? ' 
 I asked. ' Disposing of my old love-letters/ lie said, 
 ' so as to make a fresh start. I always look upon the 
 sea as a splendid waste-paper basket.' And then he 
 chuckled." 
 
 " He should not have done that," said the Sheik 
 severely, " and you should have rebuked him. Xo 
 papers ought ever to be destroyed, for some words of 
 the Prophet might happen to be on them." 
 
 " He said they were love-letters," said the Captain, 
 " and I daresay they were bills." 
 
 Here Mrs Fonblanque ran her fingers over the 
 strings of her guitar. 
 
 " JSo," she said, quietly. " You don't look sufficiently 
 repentant for the guitar, Mr Hicks. I shall take the 
 banjo, and I hope I shall thoroughly shock what little 
 artistic feeling you may have left." 
 
 " Another bottle of sparkling hock, steward ! " cried 
 the Captain. 
 
 "Exactly so," said Mrs Fonblanque, beginning to 
 tune her banjo, of all instruments the most hideous, 
 and never so hateful as in a beautiful woman's delicate 
 hands. " Ladies don't often get the chance of singing 
 a drinking-song, for you always turn us out of your 
 dining-rooms when anybody intends to be amusing. 
 Eevenge is sweet " 
 
 " So it seems," I said.
 
 124 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " That settles it," she answered, giving the discarded 
 guitar a little kick with her foot. " I shall certainly 
 take the banjo, and I shall sing you a song that must 
 set every artistic nerve in your body on edge. And 
 if you all promise not to tell, you may fill my glass 
 again, Captain Forbes, and I'll give you a lady's drink- 
 ing-song. Here you are ! " she added, twanging her 
 horrible banjo with her nervous little fingers, and 
 laughing all the time. Then she began : — 
 
 ' The wine that women worship most 
 Is not so rough and red as yours ; 
 We like to sip a sparkling toast, 
 
 No matter how the pledge endures ! ' 
 
 Now, Captain ! now, Sheik ! chorus " 
 
 " Excuse me," said the Sheik, firmly. " That surely 
 is a most improper song. I would not allow it to 
 be sung in my harem. It would shock Fatima im- 
 mensely." 
 
 " What an old Mohammedan Puritan you are ! " ex- 
 claimed Mrs Fonblanque, "and there are two more 
 verses, too. I must have my chorus. Now, Captain 
 Forbes ! now, Mr Hicks ! chorus ! If you won't join 
 in, I shall send for the Nun, and tell Priscilla to waken 
 up the gentleman who was gallant enough to go to 
 Fao at my bidding. Take the tune from me — 
 
 1 So fill the cup '
 
 LADY BLUEBEAKD. 125 
 
 That's it ! don't be frightened. I want a bass voice, 
 Mr Hicks, not a falsetto, if you please — 
 
 1 So fill the cup and let it brim 
 With sparkling wine, and drink to him 
 Who knows to love us for a while, 
 And knows to leave us with a smile. 
 
 Eternity is quite too much 
 
 For lives so poor as yours and ours ; 
 
 For us enough the fragrant touch 
 
 Of every spring-time's earliest flowers. 
 
 So fill the cup and let it brim 
 With sparkling wine, and drink to him 
 Who knows to love us for a while, 
 And knows to leave us with a smile.' 
 
 But you are not joining in, Mr Hicks," she said, stop- 
 ping suddenly. 
 
 " I tried, but I cannot," I answered. " For once I 
 agree with the Sheik. It is in every way a most de- 
 testable song, and I wonder you can sing it at all with- 
 out blacking your face in the Christy Minstrel fashion." 
 
 " How rude you are ! " she cried. " You are always 
 rude now, and I shall certainly not give you the third 
 verse, which would have explained everything very 
 prettily. I only tried to make the time go, and this 
 is all my thanks. How like a man ! You may amuse 
 me now, or wait. We will, if you please, go the round 
 of the Arts, and see how painting will help us to pass
 
 126 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 the time. What do you say, Sheik ? Shall we make 
 Mr Hicks finish that immortal picture of his — Ezra's 
 Tomb from a Steamboat ? We will sit down and criti- 
 cise him, just as you two have criticised me, and Cap- 
 tain Forbes shall say which of us has won." 
 
 " An admirable idea," said the Sheik. " I am not 
 by my religion allowed to like pictures, or I should 
 try and persuade Mr Hicks to let me have that picture 
 of his." 
 
 " Bring it up on deck," said Mrs Eonblanque, per- 
 emptorily. 
 
 I expostulated — " I don't want to paint to-day. I 
 feel in no humour for painting." 
 
 " I didn't want to sing," said Mrs Eonblanque, " and 
 I sang ; and when I began I didn't want to stop, but 
 I stopped. You have been indulged enough, sir, and 
 if you don't bring up Ezra's Tomb from a Steamboat 
 yourself, I shall send Priscilla into your cabin for it." 
 
 The mere thought of that awful creature making 
 " hay " of my things, as we used to call it at school, 
 was too much for me. I yielded with the best grace 
 I could, and, before they were drinking their coffee, I 
 had a big easel in front of me, and all my painting 
 materials close at hand. By degrees I threw myself 
 into my work, and once I was properly absorbed in it, 
 their criticism scarcely ruffled my artistic sense.
 
 127 
 
 CHAPTEK XIII. 
 
 Critics, as luckier men than myself had often told 
 me at home, soon weary of criticism if they are not 
 answered. "Never retort," my uncle used to say. 
 " Let them bend their bows and shoot their arrows. 
 They almost always miss you, though they rub their 
 hands together gleefully, and cry out, ' See how we 
 have frightened him ! ' You shoot back and miss them, 
 and they rub their hands again, and cry with a chuckle, 
 1 We are quite invulnerable. He can't touch us.' The 
 last miss always counts double, and is always in the 
 critic's favour." 
 
 I was thinking partly of my uncle, partly of my 
 theory, and partly of my picture, and was, perhaps, 
 rather distressed than otherwise to find that my local 
 critics had by this time forgotten me completely. 
 
 " Manna," I heard the Sheik say, " is by far the 
 most palatable food and the most easily digested food 
 I know. Our poor people sometimes live entirely on 
 it, and I often envy them."
 
 128 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 "That is like me," replied Mrs Fonblanque. "I 
 always envy poor people, for nobody ever tries to 
 tamper with their imaginations. If I want a thing I 
 go and buy it, and there's an end to all my pleasure. 
 But the poor people, who can't get the things they 
 want, enjoy the thought of them a thousand times 
 more than you or I enjoy the reality." 
 
 " That may be so," said the Sheik. " What I really 
 should like to know is what you think about my 
 manna." 
 
 It is one thing to be criticised and another to be 
 thoroughly ignored, and when the Sheik went below 
 for his manna, I could not help remembering that Mrs 
 Fonblanque had made a really hearty meal at tiffin- 
 time. 
 
 " It's very sticky, Sheik," I heard her say ; " but it 
 certainly is delicious. I should like the recipe. How 
 do you make it ? " 
 
 " Oh, we don't make it ! " answered the Sheik, vastly 
 delighted. " It makes itself, being secreted in some 
 mysterious way in the trees, and we catch it in a cloth 
 in the shape of large crystal drops of dew, and then it 
 hardens. But are we not neglecting Mr Hicks and 
 his picture ? " 
 
 " Perhaps we are," said Mrs Fonblanque. " But he 
 seemed so absorbed in his painting that I thought he 
 didn't want us to talk to him. What does it all mean,
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 129 
 
 Mr Hicks ? " she continued, looking over my shoul- 
 der. 
 
 I was busily at work on the foreground, and did not 
 think it necessary to reply. 
 
 "It is Ezra's Tomb," explained the Sheik, coming 
 close up to my other shoulder — "Ezra's Tomb, the old- 
 est known tomb in the world, and Mr Hicks has copied 
 it exactly. That is the tomb there. I recognise it at 
 once. That great big building, with a green dome on 
 the top of it, and a crescent over that again. It nestles 
 in a pleasant little clump of date-trees, and you see it 
 just when your eyes are most tired of looking at the 
 sandy desert. There ! he has finished the wall, and 
 now he is touching up the river. Inshallah ! It is a 
 wonderful art, and I often grieve that we Mohamme- 
 dans may not practise it." 
 
 " I don't know," said Mrs Eonblanque, returning to 
 her seat. "Perhaps Mahomet was right. Devotion 
 to any one particular art must cripple a man terribly 
 in the long-run. My ideal man is thoroughly unfet- 
 tered, and ready at any moment to start anywhere and 
 do anything." 
 
 I thought that Mrs Fonblanque's ideal man had rather 
 a vague mission in life, and so apparently did the Sheik. 
 
 " Why ? " he asked. 
 
 " To show his individuality," said Mrs Fonblanque, 
 " and his freedom from all possible fetters." 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " There I almost agree with you," said the Sheik, 
 " and I only wish Fatima could hear what you say. 
 Incessant travel is a cure for most evils. But Fati- 
 
 ma- 
 
 " You surely don't allow Fatima to dictate to you, 
 Sheik ? " said Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " Scarcely that," he answered. " But I can't pos- 
 sibly prevent her speaking her mind. And when 
 she is getting my 'kit' ready for another journey, 
 she " 
 
 Their idle chatter was too much for me. I threw 
 down my brushes in despair. 
 
 " And when you travel," I cried, " I suppose you go 
 to London or Paris for the season ? " 
 
 " I have been to Paris and to London too," the Sheik 
 answered, quietly. 
 
 " You have been to London," exclaimed Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. " How delightful ! Why, I have never been 
 to London myself. Fancy an Arab Sheik telling an 
 English 2firl all about London ! It is too delicious and 
 too absurd ! Sheik, you must be joking ! Have you 
 really been to England ? " 
 
 " Of course I have," said the Sheik. 
 
 " And what did Fatima and Zuleika and Nour Mahal 
 think of their London season ? " 
 
 " Oh, they didn't go ! " he replied. " They wrote to 
 me every mail through the chief officer of my harem,
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 131 
 
 and in reply I gave them a careful account of all my 
 adventures." 
 
 " Oil ! " cried Mrs Fonblanque. " How I should like 
 to hear everything about your adventures in London ! 
 Begin at once, Sheik — I insist upon it." 
 
 "I must have time to think them over," said the 
 Sheik, cautiously. " But I know you will only laugh 
 at me, and, on the whole, I had better leave London 
 to Mr Hicks, who was probably born there." 
 
 " He doesn't know how to tell a story properly," 
 said Mrs Eonblanque. " He can't keep his uncle out 
 of his stories. I insist, Sheik, and when I insist " 
 
 " I know," cried the Sheik ; " and some day, Madam 
 Eonblanque " 
 
 " Can't you see through him ? He is joking, Mrs 
 Fonblanque," I said, picking up my brushes again, now 
 that I had divided the enemy's camp. " He is teasing 
 you. Pay him back in his own coin. Say you have 
 been to Mecca. And then, probably, I shall be able 
 to go on with my painting in peace." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr Hicks," said the Sheik, 
 severely. " I never joke ; our tribe never do. I went 
 to England in attendance on the Xawab Ikhbal-ool- 
 Dowlah, the ex-king of Oudh. You probably met him 
 at Bagdad ? " 
 
 "Yes, I did," I answered, "and he certainly told 
 me a good deal about his European travels."
 
 132 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " Is he not a fine old man ? " continued the Sheik. 
 " He was never really king of Ouclh, but your Gov- 
 ernment make as much of him as if he had been, and 
 he is the real king of Bagdad. He holds the threads 
 of Central Asian politics in his fingers, and posts up 
 all your Eesiclents. Well, I was nearly two years in 
 Europe with the Nawab. You still look doubtful. 
 Do I or do I not speak intelligible English ? And 
 how could I possibly have learned English unless I 
 had visited England ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Mrs Fonblanque ; " I never 
 thought of that." 
 
 And no more had I. It was another of my uncle's 
 pet theories that the whole world, now that it had 
 given up speaking Hebrew, would one day speak Eng- 
 lish. I had very naturally accepted the Sheik as he 
 was, and, without a second thought about it, had sent 
 a most amusing account of him home to my uncle in 
 the letter notifying the purchase and despatch of the 
 Tree of Good and Evil 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque, however, was not so easily satisfied 
 as she appeared to be at first, and while I was daub- 
 ing in the deep blue waters of the Tigris, she began to 
 cross-examine the Sheik cruelly. 
 
 " How did you go ? " she asked at last. 
 
 " Through Bagdad," he answered ; " a most disagree- 
 able place in the cold season."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 133 
 
 " There I agree with you," I said, turning ray back 
 on my picture. " I spent four days there. I don't 
 remember much of it, to be sure. But I do remember 
 the bridge of boats, and the great awkward buffets, 
 pitched inside and out with crude bitumen, like the 
 ark in which Pharaoh's daughter found Moses, and 
 how they went round and round as a man with one 
 oar pulled you spirally across the river. I remember 
 the narrow streets too, and how the porters, staggering 
 under their loads, used to block them up. There was 
 a tramway, wasn't there ? and the houses had serdaubs 
 or cellars underground for the winter months, and 
 big broad roofs for the summer ? I forget the de- 
 tails, but I hated Bagdad more than any place I ever 
 stopped at." 
 
 " Don't be quite so energetic," remonstrated Mrs 
 Fonblanque ; " but why ? " 
 
 " Why ? Because for the first three days I saw 
 nothing but myself the whole time." 
 
 " Poor man ! poor man ! " 
 
 " I told you, I think," I said rather touchily, " that 
 I was laid up with fever at Bagdad. The Besident 
 was most wonderfully good to me. He gave me the 
 best room in the Besidency — the crystal room. The 
 walls and ceilings were completely covered with little 
 looking-glasses set at different angles. Wherever I 
 looked, as I tossed about in my bed, stiff and bruised
 
 134 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 and fever-stricken, I saw a thousand reflections of 
 myself, wan and emaciated and caricatured. It was 
 a waking exaggeration of some most horrible night- 
 mare. Have you ever seen yourself, Mrs Fonblanque, 
 in a thousand mirrors at once ? " 
 
 " No ; but I don't think I should mind it," she 
 said, smiling. 
 
 " Wouldn't you ? " I exclaimed. " Only try the 
 experiment when you have fever on you. It is bad 
 enough to be compelled to read one's face every 
 morning when one is shaving. ' What do you mean ? 
 What have you done ? What are you going to do ? ' 
 you ask it. But to see your face for hours and days 
 together, and always in a thousand distorted shapes I 
 I assure you, Mrs Fonblanque, that when they moved 
 me into a little bedroom with whitewashed walls, I 
 thought I was in paradise." 
 
 " Hush, Mr Hicks S Please hush ! " said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. " You really must not talk of paradise before 
 ladies." 
 
 " And why not ? " I asked, with my two eyes wide 
 open. 
 
 " The Sheik will tell you why not," she said. " It 
 is a question on which I cannot possibly enter 
 here — a question utterly forbidden to all of us poor 
 women." 
 
 " Nay, nay ! " remonstrated the Sheik, gently. " That
 
 LADY BLUEBEAED. 135 
 
 is altogether a vulgar error. Our Prophet never said 
 that women had no chance of entering paradise. On 
 the contrary, madam, when an old woman, Abufelda 
 by name, importuned him about old women never 
 reaching paradise, he replied that that was only be- 
 cause they all grew young again on the road." 
 
 "Thank you, Sheik," said Mrs Fonblanque. "Mr 
 Hicks was good enough to think that I was thirty 
 last night. There is hope for me still, Mr Hicks." 
 
 " For you, certainly," answered the Sheik, seriously, 
 " but scarcely for him." 
 
 " And why not for me?" I ventured to interpolate, 
 as I looked round again from my picture. 
 
 " Because," said the Sheik, impressively, " so far as 
 our books enable us to guess, the ladies will in a future 
 life have a little heaven of their own — a paradise all to 
 themselves." 
 
 " There, Mr Hicks ! " exclaimed Mrs Fonblanque, 
 triumphantly. " That is a very subtle compliment, 
 and very prettily put. But at the same time, Sheik, 
 now that I come to think it over, I am almost afraid 
 that some of us would not altogether wish for such an 
 extreme and rigid system of exclusiveness. It sounds 
 like a seraglio without a sultan, or an arrangement of 
 Venetian blinds with nobody on the other side to look 
 out at." 
 
 I laughed a little as I filled a new brush with a new
 
 136 LADY BLUEBEAKD. 
 
 colour I had been carefully squeezing on to my palette 
 from a little tube as she spoke. 
 
 " Why does he laugh ? " asked Mrs Fonblanque, 
 indignantly. 
 
 " I think he knows the legend," said the Sheik. 
 
 " Indeed ! I must insist on knowing it too, then, 
 unless of course there is anything decidedly improper 
 about it." 
 
 Neither of us spoke. 
 
 " Come now, Sheik ! " said Mrs Fonblanque, tap- 
 ping the arm of her chair rather impatiently with 
 her black fan. " We are talking of serious matters, 
 if you please. Why are we poor women to have a 
 paradise of our own ? " 
 
 " My dear lady," said the Sheik, holding up his 
 hands as if there might possibly be a thunder-cloud 
 somewhere near, " what can you want with paradise 
 just now ? I hope you will live a thousand years, and 
 grow younger and lovelier every day." 
 
 " I hope so too," retorted Mrs Fonblanque. " But 
 it is scarcely likely. And in the meantime, I don't 
 choose to let you and Mr Hicks laugh to your- 
 selves, in what I really must call a very tantalising 
 manner, over a mysterious and apparently an improper 
 legend." 
 
 " Bismillah ! " said the Sheik, placidly. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Mrs Fonblanque, and not placidly
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 137 
 
 at all. " Why are we women to have a paradise of 
 our own ? " 
 
 " Because, if you insist upon it — mind it is a 
 legend only — the legend says that you would make 
 a regular pandemonium of ours." 
 
 " Oh, you horrid old Sheik ! " cried Mrs Fonblanque, 
 springing to her feet. " Put your hands down at once, 
 and let me have a good look at your treacherous old 
 face. Was it for this that I have taken your side 
 against Mr Hicks from the first ? I have a very 
 good mind to let him loose ! You are worse than 
 he is, and what would either of you do without us 
 in this world or the next ? " 
 
 " There would be houris," I suggested. 
 
 " And now you are worse than the Sheik ! " she 
 exclaimed, stamping her pretty little foot on the deck. 
 " Would houris order your dinner every day, and sew 
 your buttons on for you, and see that you didn't waste 
 your time and lose your money at your clubs, and take 
 care that you went to bed early, and try to prevent 
 your drinking too much wine ? Would your houris, 
 as you call them " 
 
 " Stop," said the Sheik, so impressively that even Mrs 
 Fonblanque stopped. " The gentleman is right. Oh, 
 my son," he continued, laying his hand almost affec- 
 tionately on my arm, "let us keep our affections for 
 those beautiful and constant daughters of paradise who
 
 138 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 never cast eyes on any man but their own ! And, 
 however tried and tempted we may be, let us look 
 forward to that good time coming, as our Prophet 
 meant we should do, as the very pinnacle of supreme 
 felicity." 
 
 It is impossible to guess what Mrs Fonblanque 
 might have said in reply ; for at that moment — for- 
 tunately, perhaps, for the Sheik and myself — the little 
 Nun rushed up and hysterically buried her head in 
 Mrs Fonblanque's bosom. 
 
 " Hush, my dear ! hush, my dear ! " said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, soothing her like a petted child, and so 
 overdoing it, that at last the poor little thing nat- 
 urally fainted. 
 
 "Let me carry her down to her cabin," said the 
 Captain, who had run aft from the chart-room. " It 
 can't be the sea, Mrs Fonblanque, for the ship is as 
 firm as a rock. What is it ? " 
 
 " It is their absurd theory about houris, Captain 
 Forbes, and I am afraid, from what she said, that 
 somebody has tried to kiss her ! "
 
 139 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 It was very nearly five o'clock when the Captain 
 disappeared below with his fair burden. Mrs Fon- 
 blanque followed him, and after leaving Priscilla in 
 charge, rejoined us on deck. But she was too late. 
 A pleasant day had been in some way or other com- 
 pletely spoiled, and considering what a merry party 
 we had been at tiffin, we were now, as I looked round, 
 a most woe-begone and subdued lot of people. 
 
 " I think I ought to go and smoke my hookah," said 
 the Sheik, as if a happy inspiration had struck him. 
 " That pretty little Nun's affair has, I own, rather ruffled 
 me. "We know nothing of Nuns in our religion, 
 Madam Fonblanque; and if you will allow me, I 
 should like to compose my mind with a few whiffs 
 of tobacco before the setting sun says it is time to 
 call out for my prayer-carpet." 
 
 " I think I should, if I were you," replied Mrs 
 Fonblanque, with an evident reminiscence of our late 
 passage-at-arms. " How delightfully selfish all men
 
 140 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 are at heart, and how admirably they veil it in some 
 ostentatious duty ! If you want to smoke, Sheik, say 
 so. Only for goodness' sake don't make a kind of 
 religious obligation out of it ! " 
 
 " You mistake me altogether," said the Sheik. 
 
 " No, I don't think I do," rejoined Mrs Fonblanque. 
 "I am a pretty shrewd judge of character. I have 
 only known you for about twenty-four hours, but I 
 fancy I know as much about your character as Fa- 
 tima does." 
 
 " That is not impossible," answered the Sheik. " You 
 are much smarter than dear old Fatima ever was. 
 You are very clever indeed, Madam Fonblanque, and 
 I have been puzzling my brains all to-day as to how 
 a charming young woman is able to think, as you 
 do, that she can gauge an old man's character off- 
 hand." 
 
 " Well, Sheik," she replied, slowly, " I will tell you. 
 Most men of a certain age are the same. They all of 
 them think a good deal more, I fear, of their creature- 
 comforts than of their religious obligations. You, for 
 instance, admire Mr Hicks's picture far more than I do ; 
 for, like that horrible man down below, I don't care 
 much about tombstones. You said you wished you 
 could buy it. But your religious scruples were too 
 strong for you, and I must say that you sacrificed 
 your artistic feelings to your religious scruples most
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 141 
 
 successfully. Still, looking at Mr Hicks's picture as 
 it lies before him on his easel, I cannot think the 
 sacrifice a costly one. Xow, Sheik," she continued 
 abruptly, " was the sacrifice a sacrifice really, or are 
 you not a humbug like — well, yes — like Mr Hicks, 
 and the rest of you ? " 
 
 " I never," said the Sheik, " pretended to be better 
 than anybody else. Probably I am worse. Why are 
 you down on me like this ? " 
 
 " Why ? " said Mrs Fonblanque. " Why ? Because 
 you have two measures, — one for our friend's picture, 
 and another for your personal convenience. A good 
 Mohammedan who can't swallow a tomb and a few 
 Arabs beside it, can nevertheless drink more sparkling 
 hock than any of us poor Kafirs ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " said the Sheik, laughing, " is that all ? Most 
 good Mohammedans do that. Mahomet himself was 
 fond of good wine, and all he wrote against it, if you 
 read the Koran properly, is only a condemnation of his 
 own personal excess. The higher class of Mohamme- 
 dans, and more especially the travelled Mohammedans, 
 all use wine in moderation. I have been assured by 
 the best physicians in London that a light wine, such 
 as the Captain gave us to-day, is much less deleterious 
 than coffee ; and what could Mahomet know of spark- 
 ling hock ? " 
 
 " I know nothing of what Mahomet knew," said
 
 142 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque ; " but as you know I can know 
 nothing of London, I think it is rather unkind of you 
 and Mr Hicks to remind me of London so often. 
 But you are begging the question. Was Mahomet 
 a water-drinker ? And did he, or did he not, forbid 
 the juice of the grape to his followers ? " 
 
 " He was a water-drinker, of course," answered the 
 Sheik, " and, of course, he forbade us to use wine. But 
 if you will allow me to be prolix, this was how he 
 changed his mind " 
 
 " Certainly," said Mrs Fonblanque softly, completely 
 recovering her manners, " be as prolix as you please ; 
 be always prolix if you like." 
 
 " Well, this was how it was," said the Sheik, rather 
 shortly. " Mahomet called one day on a hermit who 
 had been at school with him, and the low door of the 
 hermit's hut suddenly became as large and lofty as if 
 it had been the portal to a palace. This was the first 
 sign of his mysterious power. After this he naturally 
 conceived so great an affection for the hermit who had 
 brought this miracle to pass, that all his followers be- 
 came angry and very jealous. One night when he had 
 gone to call on the holy man, his followers found them 
 both drunk with good wine. They drew Mahomet's 
 sword from its sheath, passed it through the hermit's 
 body, and put it back. When he awoke, they showed 
 him his bloody sword, and told him he had slain his
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 143 
 
 friend. Then it was that our Prophet cursed the juice 
 of the grape and all who drink it." 
 
 " It must have been a dreadful shock," said Mrs 
 Eonblanque, quite sympathetically. 
 
 " It was," answered the Sheik. 
 
 " And where do you get your legend ? " said I, turn- 
 ing aside from my picture. 
 
 " It is an old, old legend," he answered, quite un- 
 ruffled. " It is in all our own books, and you will find 
 it in many of yours. I think you will find it in 
 Mandeville's Voyages." 
 
 " And he was the prince of liars ! " 
 
 " Hush, Mr Hicks ! " said Mrs Eonblanque. " Papa 
 used to say that no one could appreciate Mandeville 
 properly until he had lived twenty years in the 
 East, and you are, I think, only travelling in that 
 direction." 
 
 " There is the steward with my hookah," said the 
 Sheik, " and the sun will set in five minutes. Salaam ! - 
 
 Mrs Eonblanque, judging from the way in which 
 she pushed her chair about, was evidently worsted. 
 She wouldn't, though I really tried to be affable, speak 
 to me for some time, now that the Sheik had gone. So 
 I painted away steadily at Ezra's Tomb, and by way of 
 local colour, I managed, rather adroitly, to put both 
 her and myself in. But as she wouldn't talk, of course 
 I stopped speaking.
 
 144 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 " Oh, Mr Hicks," she said suddenly, putting a little 
 hand on my shoulder, and just as abruptly withdraw- 
 ing it, " that really is a beautiful picture ! Without 
 my knowing it, you have actually painted, my por- 
 trait. That was too bad of you, Mr Hicks, for I was 
 quite honest when I said I did not care for Ezra's 
 Tomb; but your figure and mine seem to make all 
 the difference in the world. Do you see how I am 
 holding my black fan in your picture ? Well, that's 
 exactly how I do hold it when I am thinking of 
 something else. I will give you anything you like 
 for your picture; not that you want anything — of 
 course I know you don't — but just for the fun of 
 sending it home to the Academy to see what the 
 critics say about it." 
 
 " You are vere good, Mrs Fonblanque," I said, as I 
 began to pack up all my painting tools, " and a great 
 deal kinder, I am afraid, than any of the critics. Take 
 the picture, please take it. I only finished it for you. 
 When you and the Sheik teased me so unmercifully, I 
 thought this little bit of canvas might amuse you after- 
 wards. I never sell my pictures, because nobody will 
 buy them, and I can't begin with you, and I would 
 really much rather not have them criticised. Please 
 tell Priscilla to put the picture in your cabin, and to 
 be certain that nobody ever looks at it." 
 
 " How good of you ! " cried Mrs Fonblanque. " I
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 145 
 
 will carry it down myself, so as to be sure that 
 Priscilla dries it properly before she packs it away. 
 I feel almost like a thief, Mr Hicks ; and what a shame 
 it was of us to go on teasing you as we did, while 
 you were slaving away just to please us ! Try and 
 give me absolution if you can. What penance shall 
 I perform by way of atonement ? " 
 
 " You must walk the quarter-deck till the dinner- 
 bell rings," I said, " and if you are really repentant, 
 I shall expect to see you stepping out like the pro- 
 fessors at Aberdeen." 
 
 " I will try," said Mrs Fonblanque, putting her 
 hand in my arm. " Did they walk in pairs ? If not, 
 I will follow you humbly." 
 
 I laughed a little at this, for Mrs Fonblanque was 
 not the kind of woman to walk humbly after any 
 man, even for a freak. And then, as we went together 
 arm in arm, and to and fro, I told her all about the 
 old Quartermaster and his family affairs. 
 
 "You seem to attract queer people," she said, laugh- 
 ing. " I wish I had called him up when he was 
 putting down the awning. I should like to have 
 heard all about Polly and the problem, and the little 
 bairns in their bunks, and his own first night at sea 
 away from Polly and the bairns. Fancy his think- 
 ing of them with tears in his honest blue eyes, while 
 you were perfectly happy with your wonderful uncle 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 and his problem ! You are spoiled irremediably, Mr 
 Hicks. The poor people have the best of it." 
 
 " Yes," I answered ; " I heard something of what 
 you said to the Sheik about the danger of tampering 
 with their imaginations." 
 
 " You did, sir ! " she replied, abruptly removing her 
 hand from my arm. " But how about the Quarter- 
 master ? And how about your feelings when he said 
 you were henpecked and hencooped ? " 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque, I am sorry to say, laughed most 
 immoderately — if a soft silvery laugh can ever be 
 immoderate — at this specimen of the Quartermaster's 
 wit. His apt quotation from Shakespeare had not 
 moved her in the least. But henpecked and hen- 
 cooped was too much for her. " He must be humor- 
 ous," she said, slipping her hand adroitly under my 
 arm again, as I pressed it rather sulkily close to my 
 side. 
 
 " Don't be so dreadfully cross," she said. " I could 
 not help laughing a little. But if you really feel 
 1 henpecked and hencooped ' on the quarter - deck, 
 which we have all to ourselves, let us go forward and 
 mix a little with the crowd of native passengers." 
 
 We went forward as Mrs Fonblanque suggested. At 
 a distance, poor things, they seemed to be packed 
 together like herrings in a barrel. But as they hap- 
 pened to be preparing their evening meal just then, we
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 147 
 
 found them a very happy and very picturesque-looking 
 set of people. Their pilgrimages were over — most of 
 them were pilgrims — and they could afford to spend as 
 much time as they liked over their huge bronze soma- 
 vofs and little tin coffee-pots. The tiny cups of tea or 
 coffee were, as we appeared on the scene, being quickly 
 and silently handed round by stout comely women, 
 veiled up to their glittering eyes. The men lolled 
 about on carpets from Kerbela or Mecca, which, had 
 they only known it, would have paid the cost of their 
 pilgrimage. They talked over their strange experiences 
 in deep undertones, as they stroked their huge beards, 
 which had been jet black when they started, and were 
 now as red as red-clay and henna could make them. 
 They scarcely looked at the women who handed them 
 their tea or coffee, but each of them had a kind word 
 for the naked, brown - skinned little children, who 
 tumbled all about them, and when Mrs Fonblanque 
 appeared on the scene, they pushed each other aside to 
 make a passage for her. 
 
 " They are much friendlier here than we were on 
 the quarter-deck," said Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " Perhaps," I suggested, " they can't understand one 
 another so well." 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied Mrs Fonblanque. " But 
 only look at them as they lie all higgledy-piggledy on 
 those beautiful carpets. You ought to take out your
 
 148 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 sketch-book, Mr Hicks. You will never have such a 
 chance as this again. Look at those tawny-bearded 
 Turks and those Zanzibar men. You are always 
 crying out for contrasts, and you could not have a 
 better contrast than that. Look at that negro woman 
 holding up her cup for the dregs of the coffee-pot, and 
 see how disdainfully that veiled Circassian beauty 
 pours it in. But what pretty lips she has, as she 
 smiles at that little urchin who is tugging at her 
 gown ! Oh, now that you look at her, she is smiling 
 at you too. Didn't you see how she gave her veil a 
 twist that showed her face completely, poor thing ? 
 She is very fond of that little boy, I should say, and 
 very tired of everything else." 
 
 " Blast, perhaps, like you and me ? " 
 
 " Don't be so affected," she said. " You are far too 
 impressionable to be blast, and, if anything, you are a 
 little too much the other way. Look at that odd 
 mixture of Arabs, Persians, Kojahs, Armenians, Jews, 
 Afghans, Hindoos, and Parsees, all drinking their tea 
 and coffee together, and all lying at ease like so many 
 lions and lambs. What a happy family, and what an 
 example to both of us ! " 
 
 Here the Quartermaster, who had been touching his 
 cap to me for at least two minutes, at last broke in. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, sir and ma'am," said he. " There 
 is more of the lion than the lamb about them. They
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 149 
 
 all come aboard armed to the teeth, and we stand by 
 the gangway with our bludgeons in our hands. ' Drop 
 your arms ! ' say we in something like their own lingo. 
 And if they don't, why, we drop them. Then their 
 women come up, carrying their luggage like beasts of 
 burden, and as soon as they have spread their carpets 
 down and fed their children, the men take their 
 places." 
 
 " And a very quiet, orderly set of men they seem, 
 Quartermaster/' I said. 
 
 "That's as you take them," he answered. "Look 
 at them now, and you'd think honey wouldn't melt in 
 their mouths. But they hate each other like poison, 
 and when the Shiahs or the Sunnies, or whatever they 
 call themselves, are allowed to take their rusty old 
 matchlocks out to clean them, they keep the others at 
 a good distance, I can tell you." 
 
 Here the steward ran up, followed by Captain 
 Forbes, to tell us dinner was ready, and the Quarter- 
 master, as we left him, was surrounded by a crowd of 
 little children who had, somehow or other, discovered 
 that his pockets were full of apples. 
 
 " He is still thinking of Polly and the bairns," said 
 Mrs Fonblanque aside to me, as she took the Captain's 
 arm.
 
 150 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 After dinner, at which neither the Nun nor the 
 obnoxious passenger were present, we went on deck 
 again, and then I began to understand what Captain 
 Forbes meant by saying that we should hear a good 
 deal more of the horses before we had done with them. 
 They were packed so tightly, poor creatures, that if 
 any one of them had been allowed to lie down, all the 
 queen's horses and all the queen's men could never 
 have set him on his legs again. So it was the business 
 of the Arab and Persian horsekeepers to keep their 
 charges awake throughout the whole voyage. This they 
 did in turns — and at night, by walking to and fro, sing- 
 ing a painfully unmelodious ditty, and hammering away 
 at the wooden bar in front of each row of horses with 
 a big stick. This double-barrelled system of torture 
 was in itself bad enough the first evening I heard it. 
 But long before I reached Bombay, I learned to hate it 
 most consummately. I wrote down something about the 
 kingdom of Honyhuhum just now. But here Swift's
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 151 
 
 terrible outrage on humanity was amply avenged, for 
 the moment any poor brute leant its tired head on the 
 wooden bar in front of him, he was roughly aroused, 
 and, as a last resort, given something to eat and 
 drink. 
 
 " I wonder the horses don't all go mad," I said to 
 Captain Forbes, as we walked slowly up and down 
 smoking our cheroots. " Fancy being kept awake for 
 a whole fortnight to listen to a row like that ! " 
 
 "I used to think like you once," answered the 
 Captain ; " but I see now that the Arabs know their 
 own business. Most of these horses have never been 
 ridden. When you come to Bombay you'll find them 
 all perfectly trained, and if you fancy any particular 
 horse here, you will be able to ride him straight away 
 from the steamer." 
 
 " Just as Mrs Fonblanque's father used to do on his 
 Sunday mornings ? " I suggested. 
 
 " Yes," he answered. " But he never kept them to- 
 gether head and tail so long as we do. The most per- 
 fect cure for a kicking horse is to ride him right into 
 an Irish bog and leave him there, kicking away till he 
 is tired. No horse has a kick in him after that. But 
 a fortnight on board a British-India steamer is not a 
 bad substitute for an Irish bog." 
 
 " How is it you seem to know all about horses ? " I 
 asked, " and why was it that you told me at break-
 
 152 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 fast-time that you ought to have been a cavalry 
 officer?" 
 
 "Oh, that's a long yarn," answered the Captain, 
 smiling. " I made my mark as a cavalry officer in the 
 old Kafir war, when I was an apprentice in the Union 
 Line. Forbes's Horse were a great deal better known 
 than Forbes's old tub of a steamer ever will be. I was 
 the youngest man in the force, and the skipper of 
 them all. Lord! the things we did in Cape Town! 
 and how the regulars hated our smart grey uniform, 
 and the way in which the girls used to wave their 
 handkerchiefs as we clattered through the sleepy 
 streets ! We nearly came to blows at the Governor's 
 ball, though, and then some one peached on me. I 
 had been left at the Cape invalided — not very sick or 
 sorry, I can tell you, at the chance of getting a change 
 ashore. But the directors at home came to hear of my 
 success, and so did my poor old father, and I received 
 two letters the same day telling me to join the first ship 
 in, or be ruined. We were a smart troop and well 
 dressed, but our pay was not much to speak of. Like 
 the rest, I was a good deal in debt, and, like a fool, I 
 resigned, and made a hash of my life. If I had only 
 waited a week I should have had a commission. I 
 never knew that till the next voyage out, when every- 
 body chaffed me for resigning. Perhaps I should have 
 been a colonel now, perhaps a general, perhaps some-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 153 
 
 thing more, for all ray instincts were in the work. 
 As it is, I drive a cargo-boat up and down this beastly 
 Gulf." 
 
 " Well, your cargo, at all events, is to your taste." 
 
 "That's my only consolation," said the skipper, 
 rather sorrowfully. " I know a good horse when I 
 see him, and I take care that he is not ill-treated." 
 
 " Surely that's a great pull in itself," I said. " I am, 
 I am not ashamed to say, a Cockney, pure and simple. 
 I know a horse from a cow, and that's about all. To 
 me all these horses you have on board look like ponies." 
 
 "That's only because they are Arab horses," re- 
 joined Captain Forbes, "and because those hulking 
 dray-horses in London have completely vitiated your 
 taste. No horse, to begin with, should be more than 
 fourteen hands, or at the most fourteen - two. The 
 ideal Arab, the true Nejed horse, is rarely over four- 
 teen. He has very full haunches, shoulders that slope 
 like the shoulders of a beautifully modelled woman, a 
 broad head, a delicate nose that could drink out of a 
 pint-pot, legs hard and sinewy and very clean, small 
 hoofs, eyes large and full and almost as soft and 
 gentle as a gazelle's, little ears always on the move, a 
 coat like silk and without a suspicion of hair on it, a 
 long mane, and a flowing tail. You recollect Manfred's 
 bold image when he likened the lines of foaming light 
 flung from the Alpine cataract to ' the pale courser's
 
 154 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 tail, the giant steed, to be bestrode by Death.' Well, 
 that's the way the Arab horses hold their tails." 
 
 " You should tell that to Mrs Fonblanque," I said, 
 and then I burst into a roar of laughter. " Let me," 
 I cried, half choking, " only let me see a tail that " 
 
 " I can't," said the Captain, evidently hurt ; " their 
 tails are all the other way, and must remain so till 
 we reach Bombay." 
 
 " Let me see a Nejed horse then," I persisted, " with 
 shoulders that slope like the shoulders of a beautifully 
 modelled woman." 
 
 " I can't," cried the Captain, hotly. " I have never 
 seen a real Nejed horse myself, man. I am only 
 repeating the songs of those Arab horsekeepers, who 
 say their poets all go raving mad about the slope of 
 a thoroughbred's shoulders. But if you can't tell a 
 horse from a cow, I don't see why you should pitch 
 into me for my enthusiasm." 
 
 " No more do I, Captain Forbes," I said. " I only 
 thought that if I had to wait until I reached Bombay 
 to see their tails, I might perhaps be able to see their 
 shoulders at once." 
 
 "Well, you won't," he answered. "The true ]S T ejed 
 breed are never sold. But in the morning I can show 
 you a couple of ponies from Nejed sires, and with all 
 the best points, that will fetch Es. 7000 each as 
 Indian racers, and will be cheap at the price."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 155 
 
 By this time the Captain gathered that I was suffi- 
 ciently impressed. Our cheroots, too, were finished, 
 and so he proposed that we should go up to the 
 quarter-deck. 
 
 I was glad to see that Mrs Fonblanque had found a 
 companion in the Nun. They were sitting together in 
 the most confidential way, almost hand in hand ; and, 
 considerably reassured, I went up to them, with some- 
 thing of the feelings of a truant who has not been 
 found out. 
 
 " This is Mr Hicks, the artist," said Mrs Fonblanque 
 to the Nun, making room for me on the bench be- 
 tween them. (How is it that women when they are 
 by themselves never look really comfortable, and 
 always appear to be waiting for some one else to join 
 them ?) " This is Mr Hicks of whom I was telling 
 you." 
 
 The Nun bowed shyly, and then, after a word or 
 two to Mrs Fonblanque, abruptly retired. 
 
 "You look pleased," I said. "Has she amused 
 you ? " 
 
 "No, Mr Hicks. She has distressed me a good 
 deal. She is just like you, or the Captain, or perhaps 
 myself. She does not like her actual station in life, 
 and so she is — what none of us, I think, are — very 
 unhappy in consequence." 
 
 " Poor girl ! why ? "
 
 156 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " Oh, that's a secret she told me in confidence, and 
 I really don't think I ought to divulge it." 
 
 " I don't wish to hear her secret," I answered. 
 
 "No, I see that," replied Mrs Fonblanque, "but 
 you should think of me too. I want to tell it. A 
 secret is never safe until you have locked it away in 
 somebody else's breast. Get rid of it at once, and have 
 done with it. That's the only way to treat a secret. 
 Poor girl ! I thought she was going to cry her eyes 
 out when she first sat down beside me." 
 
 " Because that atrocious scoundrel annoyed her ? " 
 cried I. 
 
 " Not at all," said Mrs Fonblanque. " You seem to 
 know nothing of women, Mr Hicks, and you are far 
 too quick in your surmises. She never so much as 
 mentioned him, and I never thought she would. But, 
 tipsy as he was, I should not wonder if he had set her 
 thinking about old times. She was not always a 
 Nun, you know. She had a French father and an 
 English mother, and her home-life does not seem to 
 have been very happy; and once upon a time it 
 appears she loved somebody very dearly, and after 
 quarrelling with her people about him, she tied far 
 away from anything that could remind her of him, 
 and she tried, how hard I cannot tell you, to forget 
 everything, in teaching little Persian children their 
 Ave Marias and Pater Nosters. She said she almost
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 157 
 
 hated them sometimes as they laughed at her bad 
 Persian, and that very often as she talked to them her 
 veil was wet with tears." 
 
 " She must have been ill," I suggested. 
 
 " Perhaps she was. Perhaps she was only unhappy. 
 She was telling me, just when you came up, that it is 
 very easy to be a Nun, and very hard to forget ; very 
 easy to pray, and very difficult to think one's prayers 
 are always completely ignored. Is not that dreadful ?" 
 
 " No," I answered ; " I have felt that feeling myself, 
 twice at least. When one is really stirred with some 
 great grief or some horrible injustice, it is almost a 
 first instinct. And right or wrong " 
 
 " There is no question of right or wrong — only of an 
 unhappy girl who has been too impetuous, and has, 
 poor thing, suffered far too much." 
 
 " ' One of the flowers that fell out of the hands of 
 God,' " said I, quoting from my own unpublished verses 
 almost unconsciously, and, indeed, without meaning to 
 be egotistical in the least. I had never quoted these 
 two lines before. I will never quote them again. I 
 never, perhaps, felt more ashamed of myself than 
 when Mrs Ponblanque said the idea was a pretty one, 
 though, as it could have nothing to do with the Nun, 
 she did not quite see why I brought it to bear on the 
 subject. 
 
 "She said it was very hard to forget," continued
 
 158 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque, "and I am afraid she never will 
 forget now. It seems that she gave all her lace 
 frillings and pocket-handkerchiefs by degrees to one of 
 the French minister's servants in exchange for old 
 French newspapers, so as to be able to follow him in 
 fancy, as he went about with his regiment ; and she 
 saw his name twice. She struggled on for three years, 
 and nothing gave her any real interest till the plague 
 swept over Teheran. That did her good for the time. 
 She used, she told me, to go out every morning, saying 
 to herself, ' Now I shall never come back.' But it was 
 not till the plague was over that she broke down, and 
 then the Mother Superior called in the Shah's doctor, 
 and he said she must go home." 
 
 " And so she is going home now ? " 
 
 " Home ? Yes," replied Mrs Fonblanque, "if Europe 
 is home to an almost broken-hearted girl. I told you 
 that she quarrelled with her people before she ran 
 away from them. She fears, from the last papers she 
 saw, that he is with them now, and she doesn't quite 
 know whether she wishes to see him or not." 
 
 " Poor girl ! " I said. " I thought, before I heard her 
 history, that she was in the last stage of consumption, 
 and would be well out of her troubles before she saw 
 the blue waters of the Mediterranean." 
 
 " I think not, Mr Hicks. She is, perhaps, more 
 communicative than a girl should be, and she pro-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 159 
 
 bably has consumptive symptoms. You and I, and 
 
 this rough sea-breeze together, ought to bring her 
 round. It is not nice to think of a woman's life being 
 wasted for a mere girlish fancy." 
 
 " Not nice ! " I said. " Surely it is impossible." 
 
 " No, Mr Hicks, you have not the slightest idea how 
 easily a girl like that is made or marred. I can't 
 remember my mother, but I can feel for all motherless 
 girls — all the more, perhaps, because I have no children 
 of my own." 
 
 We had been walking up and down the quarter- 
 deck ever since the Nun had run away from her very 
 uncomfortable seat, and we went on walking up and 
 down long after Mrs Fonblanque had finished speak- 
 ing. 
 
 " You," I said at last, trying to say something sym- 
 pathetic — " you really ought to get her out of that 
 stupid way of thinking about a man whose name she 
 has only seen twice in a newspaper in the last three 
 years. What would the Sheik, with his silent con- 
 tempt of monogamy as an institution, say to her 
 humble imitation of it ? " 
 
 " Please leave the Sheik alone/' said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. " His ideas of love are not yours or mine. 
 And probably the Nun's ideas of love are not ours. 
 He could never understand her troubles. And, indeed, 
 I scarcely understand them myself, for the dismal
 
 160 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 little romance that made all her people turn their 
 faces away doesn't seem half so pathetic to me as she 
 herself is in her "black dress, and her flushed cheeks, 
 her coif and wimple, and her vague thoughts about 
 him, whoever he may be." 
 
 " A scoundrel, I'll be bound," I cried, " and dancing 
 round some ball-room now in a fine uniform, with his 
 spurs jingling, and making a fool of another sus- 
 ceptible girl." 
 
 " No, Mr Hicks," said Mrs Fonblanque ; " I thought 
 you knew nothing of women just now, and now I 
 think you know nothing of men. I don't see why the 
 man should be blamed ; perhaps he knows next to 
 nothing of it. Don't you remember those melancholy 
 lines : — 
 
 ' Alas ! how easily things go wrong ! 
 A sigh too deep or a kiss too long — 
 And then conieth a mist and a weeping rain, 
 And life is never the same again.' " 
 
 " Yes, I do," I said. " But I scarcely expected to 
 hear you quote them." 
 
 "Not for myself. I have more spirit than that. 
 Sometimes I think that I have almost too much spirit. 
 But I can understand the lines for all that, and you 
 will find few men of five-ancl-thirty, and very few 
 women of something under that, Mr Hicks, whose 
 eyes don't grow a little moister at the thought of the
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 161 
 
 mist and the weeping rain. Please do not say a word 
 to the Nun about what I told you. I certainly did not 
 tell you her secrets because I wanted to gossip. She 
 is, as you said, really ill, and I only want you to make 
 it your duty, as I shall make it mine, to look after her 
 a little, and cheer her up, and entertain her. She 
 is stifled for want of fresh air and frank companion- 
 ship. A little laughter would do her a world of 
 good." 
 
 " I will do my best ; but what a queer creature you 
 are ! " I answered, trying to study her face. " You are 
 very cynical for a woman, Mrs Fonblanque, and for a 
 woman very, very kind." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr Hicks. But a cynical woman, as 
 you call her, is a woman after all, and I fancy she 
 doesn't like being studied, even by the light of a bin- 
 nacle. Take me on trust, or leave me alone ; don't 
 study me. The Sheik, with his wider experience, 
 would say that no woman was worth it. He would 
 weigh me and measure me, and multiply the result by 
 my complexion ; and his figures would, I daresay, be 
 quite as correct as yours. But talk of angels — here 
 he is." 
 
 " Sheik," she continued, " Mr Hicks is not entertain- 
 ing. He says all the wrong things. Come and relieve 
 him. Put yourself in this long chair. Have your 
 hubble-bubble brought up on deck, and I will light it 
 
 vol. I. L
 
 162 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 for you. And then, tell me all about your adventures 
 in London." 
 
 "It is late, Madam Fonblanque," said the Sheik, 
 holding up an enormous watch in front of the com- 
 pass lamp, "and I promised Fatima that I would 
 always go to bed at half-past nine." 
 
 " Poor dear Fatima," answered Mrs Fonblanque 
 ironically; "I forgot her. Of course you must con- 
 sider her wishes. And like a loyal man, Sheik, I 
 daresay you consider them much more carefully when 
 she is absent." 
 
 " I try to," said the Sheik. 
 
 " And pray, when will you try to tell me all about 
 your adventures in London ? " 
 
 " To-morrow," he answered, beating a retreat in such 
 a masterly way as to make me look like the fugitive. 
 
 " Done ! " said Mrs Fonblanque. " At last I have 
 booked you ; for, as you told us yourself, a Bedouin 
 cannot tell a lie." 
 
 We both heard what she said, but were both so far 
 away at the time that, instead of answering, we each 
 looked at the other. 
 
 " Ladies who do not belong to you or your family," 
 said the Sheik, shrugging his shoulders, " are useful 
 for two purposes. They find out things one wants to 
 know, and they spread abroad as many secrets as one 
 likes to tell them. Inshallah ! "
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 163 
 
 Then the Sheik went forward to see, I suppose, if 
 his hookah were still alight, and I joined the Captain 
 on the bridge to learn something more about the Cape 
 Town girls who had waved their handkerchiefs at 
 him as Forbes's Horse went clattering through the 
 sleepy streets there.
 
 164 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 The Sheik was wonderfully coy next morning. 
 
 " Mr Hicks or the Captain can tell you all about 
 London ten thousand times better than I can," he 
 said at last, when Mrs Fonblanque had fairly ran him 
 down. 
 
 "Yes, yes, Sheik, but not from an Arab stand- 
 point." 
 
 Poor old man ! he did not struggle against that soft 
 "Yes, yes, Sheik," as I fancy I should have done. 
 " Never," my uncle used to say, " never under any 
 circumstances permit a woman to agree with you. 
 Heaven alone knows what the result may be." The 
 Sheik, knowing nothing of my uncle, fell, as if snared, 
 into one of Captain Forbes's long chairs, saying " Yes, 
 yes," to everything Mrs Fonblanque suggested. 
 
 I felt deserted. I retired below to look for my 
 sketching materials. With Mrs Fonblanque and the 
 Sheik arrayed against me, I naturally desired to re- 
 cruit my own party. Last night he thought her only
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 165 
 
 fit to whisper abroad such things as he wished known. 
 Now he was like clay in her hands. I hammered at 
 the Nun's cabin door, and begged her to come on deck. 
 She had still a violent headache. Then, much against 
 the grain, I tried to approach the obnoxious passenger. 
 The grim old Quartermaster stopped me. 
 
 "He has had an awful night," he said. "His one 
 thought is brandy. The Captain says I am to let no 
 one near him." 
 
 Then the Quartermaster wanted to gossip, but I 
 turned sulkily on my heel. " Every one in this 
 wretched ship," thought I bitterly, " has a foible. 
 That miserable creature's foible is brandy. The 
 Quartermaster, forsooth, must do as he is told. The 
 Nun has her headache. Mrs Fonblanque is inordi- 
 nately proud of making a garrulous old man talk to 
 her of his early recollections ; and as he has nothing 
 whatever to say, his foible, if you please, is coyness. 
 Very well, Mrs Fonblanque, I shall have a foible too, 
 a brand-new foible, a foible of silence, and I natter 
 myself you won't easily understand the meaning of 
 that." 
 
 I was, as usual, very nearly right. 
 
 " Yes, yes," I heard the Sheik say, just as a parrot 
 might have said it, and just as monotonously. 
 " Yes, yes," he repeated, as I approached them ; " but 
 my memory, madam, is still unimpaired. I have the
 
 166 LADY BLUEBEAIID. 
 
 most vivid recollections of my trip to London. I will 
 tell them to you, just as I wrote them to Fatima, 
 frankly and freely and without disguise ; but I must 
 not be interrupted. Our ways of thinking will prob- 
 ably differ. I may, perhaps, shock you now and then, 
 and you must promise not to mind that." 
 
 "Not in the least," exclaimed Mrs Fonblanque, 
 smiling ; " I promise that." 
 
 " For yourself only ? " continued the Sheik. " I am 
 not so much alarmed about you ; you have never been 
 in London. I was thinking rather about Mr Hicks, 
 who was probably born there." 
 
 " Oh, I can promise for him. He shan't come into 
 our conversation at all, Sheik," she answered. " Why, 
 here is Mr Hicks. The Sheik and I are going to 
 spend our morning together, Mr Hicks; and as you 
 are apparently going to paint, we should not like to 
 interrupt your work. Perhaps you won't mind taking 
 one end of the quarter-deck, either end you like, and 
 we will take the other." 
 
 "What an extraordinarily keen intuition women 
 have," muttered I to myself. " She saw me scowl at 
 the Sheik, and she guessed my particular foible at once. 
 I shall be silent if I please, but I shall certainly not 
 be sent away to be silent all by myself." 
 
 " That is hardly necessary," I answered aloud ; " I 
 want to work, and I don't wish to have to say another
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 167 
 
 word for the next four hours. I shall certainly not 
 speak unless I am spoken to; but your wranglings 
 amused me yesterday, and Ezra's Tomb was all the 
 better of them. They may perhaps amuse me to-day." 
 
 " That is true," said Mrs Fonblanque, relenting ; 
 " to amuse you would, of course, delight us. We will 
 try ; and, indeed, I prize Ezra's Tomb immensely. 
 What do you say, Sheik ? I think we might accept 
 Mr Hicks's offer ? " 
 
 " Yes," he replied, rather dubiously, " if you promise 
 not to be shocked at anything I say, and he promises 
 not to speak until he is spoken to." 
 
 " Done ! " cried we both ; both, I think, feeling that 
 we had the better of the Sheik at last. 
 
 " You can call out for your hookah when you like, 
 Sheik," said Mrs Fonblanque, " and Mr Hicks can light 
 his pipe. Xow, Mr Hicks, be silent ; and now, Sheik, 
 begin." 
 
 The Sheik continued, however, to count his beads 
 very nervously. " He is an impostor," thought I, as I 
 made a pencil sketch of him in that character ; " he 
 has nothing to say. Like me, but from a different 
 motive, he has adopted silence as a foible." 
 
 The steamer was now well out at sea making up for 
 lost time. We should be at Bushire before anybody 
 spoke. It was dull work voyaging like this in the 
 company of a taciturn Sheik who had managed to
 
 168 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 make nie promise to keep a gag in my mouth. 
 Before I had finished many caricatures of them 
 both, I began to wish most heartily that we were all 
 ashore again. 
 
 " This is dreadful ! " said Mrs Fonblanque at last. 
 " Mr Hicks ! Mr Hicks ! " 
 
 " He mustn't speak," cried the Sheik, dropping his 
 beads to hold his hands up. 
 
 " Oh yes, he may," replied Mrs Fonblanque, " if he 
 is spoken to ; and if you don't talk he will be spoken 
 to to some purpose. Come now, Sheik, don't be so 
 absurdly shy. You went to London ? Begin at the 
 be£'innino\ Begin with Fatima's tears." 
 
 o o o 
 
 " She wept, of course," said the Sheik, passing the 
 corner of his rough camel's robe over his eyes. " So 
 they all did, and so did I, as I enjoined them to live 
 peaceably in seclusion until I came back, and as they 
 wished for my regard, never until then to unveil the 
 beautiful features I was leaving with so much regret." 
 
 " Was not that rather hard on your wives, though," 
 said Mrs Fonblanque softly, " when you were going 
 out into the world to enjoy yourself ? " 
 
 " It is our custom," he answered. " There is really 
 nothing to shock you here. And it was not until a long 
 time after I left them that I could enjoy myself at all. 
 For ten days or a fortnight we travelled on camels, 
 living on rough fare, and losing all the charm of the
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 169 
 
 journey in the excessive haste that Ikhbal-ool-Dowlah 
 thought necessary. Often and often I wished that 
 one or other of my wives were with me to mix my 
 sherbet, or prepare my coffee, or fill my chibouk. 
 They were scarcely ever out of my thoughts." 
 
 " You are not quite so original, Sheik, as I expected 
 you would be," said Mrs Fonblanque. " That's exactly 
 what all the men I know say about their wives when 
 they are good enough to speak of them at all. The 
 model wife anywhere is only just such an elegant and 
 efficient female servant as you cannot get for monthly 
 wages." 
 
 I turned round abruptly. I should like to have 
 spoken on this point, for my uncle, as a confirmed 
 bachelor, had most pronounced views on matrimonial 
 obligations. They both looked indignantly at me, and 
 I subsided. 
 
 " Oh ! " said the Sheik, pretending to ignore me al- 
 together, " the ship was worse than the camels. I am 
 used to ships now, but at the time I suffered terribly. 
 The more the ship rolled, the more I envied the happy 
 lot of my wives in their quiet little Arabian encamp- 
 ment." 
 
 "Well, well," exclaimed Mrs Fonblanque, rather 
 pettishly ; " suppose we leave Fatima and the rest of 
 them in their delightful seclusion. AVhat were your 
 first ideas of England ? "
 
 170 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " Intensely disagreeable," answered the Sheik. " I 
 had heard much on board, when towards the end of 
 the voyage I was able to crawl on deck, of the rapacity 
 of a famous piratical tribe called Custom-house officers. 
 When we sighted Southampton they seized the ship. 
 At first, any stranger might easily have mistaken them 
 for Englishmen ; but we soon discovered certain signs 
 of their barbarous origin. I was still almost ignorant 
 of English ; and as I sat on my boxes counting my 
 beads, they bore down on me in overwhelming num- 
 bers. They took away all the exquisite tobacco I had 
 purchased at Aleppo, and all the silver ornaments and 
 utensils with which dear old Fatima had filled a little 
 travelling-trunk from our old family chest." 
 
 " How dreadful, Sheik ! " exclaimed Mrs Fonblanque ; 
 " and you mean to tell me that you submitted without 
 a word ? " 
 
 " No, madam," said the Sheik ; " not without a 
 word ; not without very many bad words. I appealed 
 to the passengers ; they shrugged their shoulders. 
 ' We told you to be careful,' they replied. * If you 
 wanted to smuggle, you should have been very, very 
 careful, and have either hidden your things, as we did, 
 or have had plenty of backsheesh ready.' Then I 
 went to Ikhbal-ool-Dowlah. He laughed. ' It is 
 quite for the best,' he said. ' I have been in England 
 before ; they took you for me. I arranged that they
 
 LADY BLUEBEABD. 171 
 
 should do so ; and they have passed all my boxes 
 without opening any of them. We have got the better 
 of the infidels, as we always do ; and you may put 
 your losses down at a fair figure in my account-book.' " 
 
 " Then you lost nothing ? " asked Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " No ; rather the other way. But it was extremely 
 annoying." 
 
 " Well, never mind the annoyance now, Sheik," 
 she said. " It was a long time ago ; before I was born, 
 I daresay. You landed at last ; and then, what did 
 you think of London ? " 
 
 " I had to get there first," he answered. " I went in 
 a machine that puff-puffed and groaned like the ship, 
 only on wheels." 
 
 " That was a train," said Mrs Fonblanque. " They 
 are common enough now even in India; and when 
 you talk about the puff-puff, Sheik, you seem to be 
 treating me rather like a child." 
 
 The same thought had struck me. and, without 
 turning round, I laughed aloud. 
 
 " You mustn't talk," said Mrs Fonblanque. " You 
 remember your promise, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, turning boldly round. " But I 
 never promised not to laugh ; did I, Sheik ? " 
 
 " That was implied," he said. " But perhaps you are 
 justified just now. Still I think I am right from an 
 artistic point of view. I am only trying to interest
 
 172 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque in London by giving her my impres- 
 sions as they first occurred to me." 
 
 " Perfectly right," rejoined Mrs Fonblanque. " Mr 
 Hicks, yon are muzzled again ; and now, Sheik, how did 
 England first impress you ? " 
 
 " As very small and terribly crowded," he replied. 
 "The country, as we flew through it on our iron 
 wheels, was cut up, like our chess carpets, into little 
 patches they call fields, with great hedges every fifty 
 or sixty yards. Half the land seemed to be wasted 
 upon these horrible hedges. And as for their fields, 
 they were so small that I really should not have liked 
 to have stabled a mare of mine in any one of them. 
 Everything looked most dreadfully green. There was 
 not a patch of yellow sand all the way to London, 
 and, until we reached London, I saw nothing that 
 reminded me of the desert." 
 
 " And London reminded you of the desert ? " 
 
 " Yes, in a sense," he answered. " I have never in 
 all my life felt so much alone, as when I went out for 
 a stroll on the first evening of our arrival. I wished to 
 think quietly over the voyage and to map out my little 
 plans for the future ; but I was caught up and swept 
 away by an overwhelming rush of people, going some 
 one way and some another, fighting and jostling as 
 they went, as if everybody wanted to be first in at 
 this end or that."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 173 
 
 " Oh, I know," said Mrs Fonblanque. " That was 
 the City, and they were all trying to get to the Bank 
 of England or to Basinghall Street. English novels 
 tell us a great deal about the fierce struggles in the 
 middle passage between those two places." 
 
 "No," answered the Sheik, with such a pronounced 
 air of superior knowledge that I caught it at once and 
 had it clown on paper before he proceeded further. 
 (If you are able to sit with your back to your models, 
 you have an extraordinary advantage over them.) 
 " No ; the City, as I learned afterwards, is always 
 deserted at that hour, and our hotel was at the West 
 End. The rush was dreadful, and to a stranger the 
 scrimmage and the turmoil seemed discourteous in the 
 extreme. On the desert, if you see anybody two miles 
 off, you are delighted to stop for a moment so as to spear 
 him if he is worth it, and if not, to cheer him forward 
 on his journey ; and then, turning half round on your 
 saddle, you ride slowly away with regret till he is 
 quite out of sight. In London, I assure you, it is very 
 different. Even on that first night I saw many faces 
 I would gladly have seen again — faces that seemed to 
 have a message for me, or I for them ; no matter 
 which, for we passed each other almost as rapidly as 
 the express trains between London and Southampton." 
 " I have often had that same feeling in travelling, 
 Sheik," said Mrs Fonblanque. " But I have never
 
 174 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 been swept away by an overwhelming rush of people. 
 How did you feel, and how did you escape ? " 
 
 " I felt lonelier," said he, " than I had ever felt 
 before ; and I escaped by imitating a big Englishman 
 in front of me, who used his elbows freely. I fled 
 through some dark alleys, and then I came to a large 
 square place brilliantly lit up with burning air." 
 
 " And what did you do there ? " asked Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. 
 
 " Oh, Fatima, Fatima ! " I cried, " if you saw how 
 these barbarians have welcomed your lord and master, 
 you and Zuleika and Nour Mahal, and all your hand- 
 maidens, would leave your tents to tear your hair and 
 beat your breasts ! " 
 
 " Nonsense, Sheik ! " said Mrs Fonblanque. " Don't 
 be sentimental. It is bad enough to have one sulky 
 sentimentalist on board." 
 
 " You are speaking to me," I cried. " I claim the 
 right of reply." 
 
 " Hush, Mr Hicks," she said, " be silent ; and, 
 Sheik, please be practical. Forget the horrors of your 
 first night in London, and tell me candidly what you 
 thought of the ladies you met there." 
 
 " That," he answered, " is a big question, and you 
 must really give me time to think."
 
 175 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " You asked nie about the ladies," continued the Sheik, 
 slowly. " Well, it took me three weeks or a month to 
 realise what I saw. They walked about the streets 
 with their faces perfectly unveiled. They sat in the 
 play-houses without anything on their shoulders, and 
 they appeared on the stage without any robes over 
 their legs. It is, perhaps, fortunate for the men that 
 the ladies are like this. For the younger ladies are so 
 exceedingly beautiful that no mortal man could resist 
 them if they were only as modest as they are lovely." 
 " But, Sheik, how about the modest women ? " 
 " I never met any," he answered, shortly. " At first, 
 of course, I thought my English friends did as we do, 
 and that their modest women were all kept in seclu- 
 sion at home. But I was wrong. AH their women 
 go about everywhere ; and the older their women are, 
 the more they wish to attract notice. It is entirely 
 the other way in our harems. It is only our younger 
 wives who think of attracting notice at all. But in
 
 176 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 London, and especially in the play-houses, the old 
 women were far the worst." 
 
 " Why was that ? " 
 
 " It is hard to say. They were lean and scraggy. 
 They spoiled the view of the stage, and everybody I 
 spoke to on the subject approved of our system of 
 veils. ' You are right, sir,' said one young gentleman, 
 over a supper at Evans's, ' and let us hope that Eastern 
 civilisation will at last prevail. In the old days we 
 had to kiss all the women we met instead of shaking 
 hands with them. You kissed ten old horrors for one 
 pretty girl, and so the law was changed. But we have 
 still to look at them. A few words from you might 
 alter the law there too.' This was what they called a 
 wrinkle. So I wrote a little pamphlet on the subject, 
 Madam Eonblanque, advocating the purdah system. 
 It became the rage, and one of the papers started a 
 rival Turkish writer, who used to go about the theatres 
 counting the number of grandmothers (or ladies old 
 enough to be grandmothers) who appeared there in 
 low-necked dresses. They formed eighty per cent of 
 the female portion of the audience in the better parts 
 of the house." 
 
 " I am sorry for you," said Mrs Fonblanque, curtly. 
 " Those poor old women he saw couldn't have been 
 much older than your mother was, and what would 
 she have said to your pamphlet?"
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 177 
 
 " She lived and died in her tent," said the Sheik ; 
 " but these venerable old ladies I am speaking of 
 spend most of their time gadding about, so as to be 
 able to play cards — an amusement we leave to our 
 Zanzibar slaves." 
 
 " You are wrong there," exclaimed Mrs Fonblanque. 
 " I like a quiet rubber myself." 
 
 " So you may," he said. " I adroitly advocated 
 whist in my pamphlet as an alternative to going to 
 the play. But wait till you have to cultivate English 
 society. The old women are bad enough, but they are 
 scarcely the worst feature of it. Even young children 
 without any sort of option in the matter are brought 
 up as our dancing-boys and singing-girls are here. 
 Whether they have voices or not they all learn music, 
 and London in the suburbs is one perpetual wail 
 against this atrocious system." 
 
 " Did you live in the suburbs, Sheik ? " 
 
 "Xo, certainly not. But wherever you lived you 
 learned to hate the musical side of an English educa- 
 tion. English girls are taught everything, and always 
 by people of another tribe." 
 
 " Why is that ? " asked Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 "Partly because the polite arts are quite foreign to the 
 English character, and partly, perhaps, because it would 
 be considered bad form in grown-up English people 
 to know anything well enough to be able to teach it." 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 I looked round at Mrs Fonblanque, who had 
 astounded me two or three days before by being so 
 thorough in her knowledge. She actually blushed. 
 
 " But surely, Sheik," she said, as a 1 eply to me, " a 
 great many English 1 dies must be clever and well 
 informed and well read, and all that." 
 
 " Oh, there are such women," he answered. " But 
 they are obliged to wear blue spectacles as a badge ; 
 and to distinguish them from the others, they are 
 called 'Women's Eights Women.'" 
 
 " Stop, Sheik ! Do I belong to that class ? " 
 
 "I think not," he answered. "They are said to be 
 very clever. But they are not in society. How 
 amused Fatima was with my first account of them 
 at the Victoria Institute ! But the young ladies I am 
 talking of put off all they have been taught when 
 they ' come out.' They come out of all their learning, 
 you know ; and just as with the butterflies who have 
 brushed aside their early encumbrances, it is their 
 single duty to look beautiful. They are young ladies 
 now, and until they marry they have nothing what- 
 ever to do but to study the art and the cost of dress. 
 And there, I acknowledge, they excel." 
 
 "A very nice amusement for girls, too," said Mrs 
 Fonblanque, " if their allowances are only large 
 enough." 
 
 " Well," answered the Sheik, " that question of
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 179 
 
 allowances used to puzzle me a good deal too. How 
 do all the unmarried girls in England pay for their 
 dresses ? They should not be unmarried, of course. 
 Our religion is quite against that. But there they 
 were. And as a father and a husband on a fairly 
 extensive scale, I could guess what their dresses cost. 
 We have our own fashions in the desert, and have 
 had them for one or two thousand years. But in 
 England the fashions change every month. What is 
 blue to-day is red to-morrow, and that must mean a 
 lot of money." 
 
 " Oh, it all depends, Sheik," said Mrs Fonblanque ; 
 " a ribbon here and a ribbon there makes a world of 
 difference. But we are getting into questions that no 
 man can possibly understand." 
 
 " Perhaps not," he rejoined. " But I was not talking 
 of a ribbon here and a ribbon there. I had something 
 solid to go upon. I was thinking of a young English 
 lady who told me herself that she had not a suspicion 
 where her waist would be that day six months." 
 
 " What a nice frank girl she must have been ! " 
 cried Mrs Fonblanque. " Go on, Sheik ; tell me all 
 about England, and what struck you most when you 
 had time to look about you." 
 
 " The horrible contrasts I saw everywhere," he 
 replied, " between the upper classes and the lower. 
 There were miles and miles of palaces, — very ugly
 
 180 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 palaces, I grant you, and many of them mere stucco 
 shams; but all of them exceedingly smug and com- 
 fortable — far more comfortable, I take it, than our 
 richest sheiks' best tents. That was one side of the 
 question. But always close behind these houses there 
 were miles and miles of the vilest and most miserable- 
 looking slums. How did the rich people make money 
 enough to fill all these squares and streets ? And how 
 did the poor people contrive to live at all ? " 
 
 " Perhaps their money was left to them like mine. 
 Go on, Sheik." 
 
 " No," he said ; " I satisfied myself on that point. 
 With rare exceptions the people who live on their 
 forefathers in England are a proud, decaying, and 
 decrepit race, dwelling chiefly in what they term 
 lodgings, so as to be as free to move about as we are 
 in our tents. The householders I mean make their 
 money in the city (Allah only knows how !), and spend 
 it on the houses in which they live not more than 
 eight or ten hours out of the four-and-twenty, so as to 
 have time to sleep and shave and breakfast, and some- 
 times dine, there. As for the poor people " 
 
 " Never mind the poor people. Go on, Sheik." 
 
 " I will," he continued, severely. " But the contrast 
 interested me so much that I studied it." 
 
 " That was like Mr Hicks." 
 
 " Granted. He, too, would tell you that there were
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 181 
 
 in all the parks and public places the most beautiful 
 ladies sitting on their horses in an airy way that no 
 Arab woman could attempt, or lying cosily wrapped 
 in costly furs in their ample carriages. But for every 
 fine lady there was some poor starving flower-girl 
 shivering in the mud. And then the atmosphere, 
 after the clear, dry, bracing air of the desert, is 
 atrocious. It seems to stifle a stranger, and even the 
 natives themselves are slowly poisoned by the smoke 
 and fog they breathe. My doctor told me that none 
 of their scientific men had ever found the fourth gen- 
 eration of a family that had lived only in London. 
 They wither away, run to teeth and jaw, and die out." 
 
 " That is the same in India," exclaimed Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. " There is no fourth generation of the Euro- 
 peans born in India." 
 
 " Is that so ? " said the Sheik. " But still that is not 
 the worst of London " 
 
 " Xever mind the worst of it. We have that every- 
 where. I want to know about London, but only about 
 the best of it." 
 
 Her words and a very soft but earnest look in her 
 grey eyes made me long to join in the discussion, so 
 as to give her some of my better experiences ; for, of 
 course, I had them. I remembered how readily she 
 had thrown her purse to the girls from the date-pack- 
 ing factories near Bussorah, and all that she had said
 
 182 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 to me about them. Still a new and unusual disguise, 
 even of silence, is an awkward costume at first. You 
 cannot drop it suddenly on the deck of a steamer 
 without feeling undressed and surprised. I contained 
 myself. I painted a series of rapid little sketches of 
 Mrs Fonblanque as a soft-eyed daughter of the Good 
 Samaritan, as a hospital nurse, as a sister of charity ; 
 and she really seemed much more at home in any of 
 these characters than as the jaded owner of countless 
 money-bags. 
 
 " The best side of the best London society," said the 
 Sheik at last, when he had relit his hookah, " is not 
 very good. So Ikhbal-ool-Dowlah used to say every 
 nicrht in the smoking-room, and he was never far 
 wrong. There is nothing in England of that delight- 
 ful courtship after marriage that is charming enough, 
 once you have tried it, to justify polygamy. I have 
 seen young damsels, innocence itself in appearance, 
 take a gentleman's arm on the very first introduction ; 
 and worse than that, I have seen them dancing 
 together publicly, with all the elders of their families 
 looking on." 
 
 " This is delightful, Sheik ! Don't stop, please. 
 What did you tell Fatima about these dreadful 
 proceedings ? " 
 
 "As little as I could, madam, consistently with 
 truth, for my letters had to be read aloud by a scribe
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 183 
 
 before all of them. ' You are happy,' I said in my post- 
 script, ' far happier than I am. Could you but know 
 how shocked I often feel, you would doubly prize the 
 innocent seclusion of your tents in the boundless 
 desert, where you have never any of you anything 
 to think of but the love and gratitude you owe 
 me.' " 
 
 "And what did Fatima say to that?" asked Mrs 
 Fonblanque. 
 
 " She said that I was her lord and master, the light 
 of her eyes, her constant thought by night and day, 
 and then she begged me to send as many more details 
 as I could gather together, so as to show her and my 
 other wives and all my handmaidens what to most 
 carefully avoid." 
 
 " And you believed her ? " 
 
 "No," replied the Sheik. "My wives are of good 
 descent. They are far too well-bred, though I say it 
 myself, to expect me to believe a single word they 
 say." 
 
 " That must be rather trying sometimes ? " 
 
 " Not in the least," he answered, " when you have 
 established a proper basis." 
 
 " Well," I said slowly, and in the most exasperating 
 manner I could think of, " you, sir, seem to have estab- 
 lished a pretty broad basis for yourself. I can be silent 
 no longer. I can paint no more. After listening to
 
 184 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 you ever since breakfast-time, I must either talk or 
 eat." 
 
 " So be it," said the Sheik, quite graciously. " I 
 think, if I had the chance, I would rather be silent 
 than be bound to talk ; and it is high time for tiffin." 
 
 " Is nobody," I cried, " going to punish me for break- 
 ing all the laws and regulations ? I wanted to talk 
 an hour ago, and I might just as well have indulged 
 myself." 
 
 "Not at all, Mr Hicks," replied Mrs Fonblanque. 
 " The tiffin bell, which was ringing as you rose, is a 
 complete excuse for an armed neutrality." 
 
 Somebody once said that if the liveliest and most 
 sensational five-act play went on unremittingly like 
 a sermon, the audience would go stark, staring mad. 
 I believe him. It is the intervals that make existence 
 endurable. The pauses, as I learned afterwards, are 
 the life and soul of Hindu music. It is not what you 
 hear that renders a nautch enjoyable, but the rhyth- 
 mical regularity of the ecstatic intervals of rest. This, 
 however, is a question rather for the philosophers than 
 for me. All I know is, that after a very pleasant 
 pause, which lasted rather less than twenty minutes, 
 I found myself once more in front of my easel, and 
 under all the old regulations.
 
 185 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Mrs Foxblanque and the Sheik continued their 
 discussion. They were admirably matched, both 
 being good talkers, which is rare — and both good 
 listeners, which is rarer. They set to work at once. 
 
 " Did they stare at you much in England ? " began 
 Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 "Yes," he answered. "They always paid me that 
 compliment. ' You are really an Arab ? ' they used 
 to say. ' How queer ! How very, very interesting ! ' 
 When I travelled through the Scotch Lakes, the 
 people cheered me heartily whenever the train or 
 the steamer came to a halting-place. Everything, 
 indeed, was much pleasanter in what they call the 
 'Provinces' than in London." 
 
 " And why was that ? " 
 
 " It reminded me of home," he answered. " The 
 freedom and hospitality of a good English country- 
 house are almost Arabian in their simplicity, and the
 
 186 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 inmates have nothing of the formal manners and pre- 
 tentiousness of London people. But all strangers have 
 to take their pedigrees with them to show that they 
 come from some old county family." 
 
 "I couldn't do that," said Mrs Fonblanque. "I 
 really don't think I come from any English county 
 family ; at least poor papa never betrayed it. What 
 did you do as a foreigner ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " laughed the Sheik, " my pedigree was much 
 longer than that of any man I met. That gave me a 
 good start. They talked of William the Conqueror, 
 and I of Abraham. But, after all, a man in London, 
 as in the desert, stands on his own feet. My visit to 
 England taught me two things — first to appreciate 
 myself, secondly to appreciate my wives." 
 
 " Why your wives, Sheik ? " 
 
 " In this way, madam. The first thing a man does 
 with his wife in England is to take her about and show 
 her off. If she passes muster fairly well, she is given 
 the title of a 'professional beauty,' and her husband 
 is at once promoted to some high official appointment. 
 Any Englishman who took his wife about veiled would 
 be regarded as a public enemy. And, indeed, it is only 
 the very richest men who can afford to marry a plain 
 woman; and even then, they must not be seen too much 
 together, except in country places." 
 
 " That can't be very nice for the wives."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 187 
 
 " No ; that's what I told Fatima. But in England 
 everything is reversed. Here, if a man is lucky 
 enough to have a very pretty wife, he is quite silent 
 about her. There, she is at once the boast and the 
 plague of his life." 
 
 " I am almost sorry, Mr Hicks," said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, laughing, " that I turned back with you." 
 
 " You were wrong," exclaimed the Sheik, earnestly ; 
 " there is nothing you might not do in England with 
 your western beauty and your oriental training." 
 
 " May I speak ? " cried I. " I have been .spoken 
 to." 
 
 " Yes, on the point," said the Sheik. 
 
 " If you are sorry, madam," I began, " I am sorry 
 too." 
 
 " I really don't think he ought to speak," said Mrs 
 Fonblanque. 
 
 " We must hear him first, and settle the legality of 
 the case afterwards," urged the Sheik. 
 
 " And you, sir, seem," I continued, severely, " to 
 have been, according to your own accounts, a good 
 deal run after by the ladies. Was that so ? " 
 
 The Sheik glowered at me, but said nothing. 
 
 " I almost think he is speaking to the point, Sheik," 
 said Mrs Fonblanque, smiling. " I have once or twice 
 been on the verge of making the same remark. I hold 
 that Mr Hicks is right."
 
 188 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " !No, no, lie is not," answered the Sheik, angrily. 
 " He simply means to be rude. He knows that the 
 kind of men women run after in England are almost 
 women themselves. He has no right to speak at all. 
 I refuse to answer." 
 
 " Well," she rejoined, " as you like. But you appear, 
 I must say, to have been considerably persecuted by 
 them in England. Are Englishmen never free from 
 the attentions of Englishwomen ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," said the Sheik, "but only in their 
 clubs, as they style their monasteries. These luxuri- 
 ous palaces are state concerns for the preservation of 
 masculine virtue. No female has ever yet been al- 
 lowed to cross their sacred portals, and all but the 
 very best men are blackballed and sent down to the 
 common cafis and drinking-bars until they are fit for 
 membership. I was passed in at once, and made a 
 member of three of the most exclusive clubs in town. 
 And in spite of Mr Hicks's sneers, I found them very 
 useful by day ; and in the afternoon and evening very 
 safe, as I watched the crowds of gaily-dressed, unveiled 
 women down below." 
 
 " Can't you see, Sheik," said Mrs Fonblanque, " that 
 I am unveiled myself ? It is not at all nice of you to 
 go on reminding me of the barbarous practices of your 
 own women. Would you wish me to tell Priscilla to 
 bring a veil up ? "
 
 LADY BLUEBEAKD. 189 
 
 " Certainly not. But most of those women I saw 
 were not only unveiled, but had two faces." 
 
 " Good gracious ! Why ? " 
 
 " One to sleep in, and one for company." 
 
 " You mean that some of them used a little rouge ? 
 Oh, that's nothing ; and they only do it, poor things, 
 to please you men. You ought really to be more 
 grateful, Sheik. But let us leave the ladies alone. 
 Were the men at your clubs very amusing ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! " said the Sheik, " quite the opposite. 
 You must not speak to any one without being intro- 
 duced. You are introduced at last to a famous travel- 
 ler, or to a writer of great repute. You expect that 
 pearls of some price, more or less, will drop from his 
 mouth. Ten to one he asks you what you think of 
 1 this beastly weather.' In Arabia we have no wea- 
 ther. It rains when God pleases, and that is very 
 seldom; and we no more think of talking about it 
 than of talking about any other of nature's opera- 
 tions. In England, madam, the men talk of very little 
 else." 
 
 " I thought they always talked scandal in their 
 clubs, Sheik, and told one another entertaining 
 stories ? " 
 
 "Not at all. When they are not talking of the 
 weather, they talk chiefly," he added, with some re- 
 luctance, " of horse-racing — a most villainous purpose
 
 190 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 to put an innocent horse to. I tried it myself, and it , 
 cost me everything in Fatima's little travelling-trunk 
 of family silver." 
 
 " Oh-ho ! " said Mrs Fonblanque. " I thought the 
 Custom-house officers had taken it away from you." 
 
 " So they did," rejoined the Sheik, hastily. " I 
 forgot to tell you how cleverly I managed to buy it 
 back." 
 
 " Indeed ! And was Fatima angry ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said the Sheik ; " I was. I inva- 
 riably chose the best horses, for in my knowledge of 
 horse-flesh I had an enormous ' pull.' But they never 
 won. You require at least two horses for a horse-race. 
 You may take it as a rule that the best horse never 
 wins. They both start, as a matter of course; but 
 they have nothing whatever to do with the result. 
 A race is simply a big gambling machine, in which 
 nobody can win but the bookmakers or croupiers ; and 
 they know about as much of a horse as I do of the 
 great auk." 
 
 " And that's what you talk about in your clubs ? " 
 said Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " Yes, the weather and that ; and, at certain times 
 of the year, of fox-hunting. In Arabia we look upon 
 foxes and jackals as vermin. We had as lief hunt a 
 weasel. If we want to hunt, we send a defiant mes- 
 sage to the nearest tribe, and, with our spears in our
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 191 
 
 hands, we jump on to our horses and follow up the 
 messenger. There is some sport in that. But a fox — 
 bah ! And then there is no proper riding-ground in 
 England. It is all gates and hedges." 
 
 " Never mind the hunting and the horses and the 
 hedges, Sheik," said Mrs Fonblanque ; " tell me some- 
 thing more about the English ladies." 
 
 " I would readily do so," he replied — " I am more 
 at home there ; but both you and Mr Hicks seem to 
 think that whenever I am speaking of the ladies I am 
 speaking of myself." 
 
 "Many men, no doubt, do that," she answered; 
 " but you are different. You could always look back 
 to your family tents in the desert. You stand on an 
 entirely different platform." 
 
 " Well, perhaps I do," he replied, smiling. " And 
 there was, I own, one thing in their domestic arrange- 
 ments that puzzled me immensely. We have a great 
 many wives and very few children. They have only 
 one wife apiece and far more children than they want. 
 How do you explain it ? " 
 
 "It is not for me to explain, Sheik. I have no 
 children, and I told you that I had never been in 
 England." 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; I forgot," he answered. " But 
 when I was there, it was quite a common thing for 
 every lady of ' a certain age/ as they term it, to call
 
 192 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 out among a crowd of guests, and say, ' I am delighted 
 to meet you, sir ; but fie, fie ! you naughty man, every- 
 body is saying that your poor dear wives are terribly 
 expensive in their tastes, and that you have run away 
 from them so as to try and economise a little.' " 
 
 " And your retort ? " 
 
 " It was always the same. I invariably used to 
 answer, ' But surely children are very expensive too. 
 A child costs more than a wife, and the outlay begins 
 at a much earlier period. Your large English families 
 would be simply insupportable in the desert.' " 
 
 " You dreadful man ! " cried Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " I may be dreadful or not," answered the Sheik. 
 " My personality has nothing to do with the present 
 question. But you have no idea of the supreme self- 
 complacency of Englishmen, or how they run down 
 everything that is not English. When they were good 
 enough to let me see what they really thought, I was 
 astonished to find that they thought everybody born 
 out of England must be flighty, unbusinesslike, and, 
 above all, immoral." 
 
 " Are they very moral themselves, Sheik ? " 
 
 " Well, madam," he replied, " that depends on the 
 importance you attach to a mere figure of speech. In 
 Scotland I should say they are moral — absurdly so. 
 In England, unless you happen to be a clergyman, 
 you must either be very good, or appear to be good.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 193 
 
 The clergymen, like the learned ladies of whom I told 
 you, are marked out from the rest by distinctive badges. 
 They always wear black coats and white ties. That is 
 enough. They are everywhere accepted as good men 
 on account of their costume, but it always covers a 
 multitude of children." 
 
 "Oh, Sheik!" said Mrs Fonblanque. "You don't 
 mean to say that the English clergy go in for poly- 
 gamy ! " 
 
 " No, no, far from it. The bishops and the priests 
 are the husbands of one wife. The statesmen and 
 lawyers and richer sort of merchants were apparently 
 allowed more, though they would never confess it." 
 
 " You are wrong there, Sheik. None of the English 
 novels I have read ever hinted at such an extraordinary 
 exemption for any privileged class." 
 
 " I think I am right, all the same," said the Sheik. 
 "The English novel, as you see it now, does not in 
 the least represent English society. It is written by 
 women for women — and children." 
 
 " May I speak ? " I cried. 
 
 It was eventually determined that I might. 
 
 " Ehoda Broughton and Ouida," I said, " are women 
 too ; but would you call their novels food for 
 babes ? " 
 
 " You may speak, Mr Hicks, when we permit you 
 to speak ; but we cannot possibly allow you to ask 
 
 VOL. i. n
 
 194 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 questions. I read everything those two ladies write, 
 and think it all very charming. Go on, Sheik." 
 
 " Where was I ? " he asked. 
 
 "You were envying the clergymen their black coats 
 and white ties." 
 
 " Oh yes, I remember," said the Sheik. " Well, 
 whenever I travelled 'incog.,' as they call it, I wore 
 a plain tweed travelling suit, and this seemed to be 
 a badge of all that is bad, for directly I got out of 
 my carriage to buy a bun or a sandwich, a lady 
 always stepped up to me on the platform. c Are you 
 one of us ? " she always asked. ' Have you found per- 
 fect peace ? No ? then take this.' I always took off 
 my hat in the English fashion. Sometimes I lost my 
 bun or my sandwiches, and more than once I lost 
 my train, and with a little tract in my hand, I had 
 to console myself, as best I could, with the terrible 
 ends of better fellows than myself. This is a pastime 
 quite unknown in Arabia, and it would, I think, 
 amuse Fatima immensely." 
 
 "They could not possibly speak to you like that, 
 Sheik," said Mrs Fonblanque, "and on a railway 
 platform too, without a proper introduction." 
 
 " Oh yes, they did," he answered. " But they were, 
 of course, always ladies of what just now I called ' a 
 certain age.'" 
 
 "Well," said Mrs Fonblanque, "you astonish me.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 195 
 
 The women at home seem to have a good deal of 
 impudence and any amount of licence." 
 
 " That/' replied the Sheik, " though I did not like 
 to say it before, is really what struck me most in 
 England. There were houris in all the houses, even 
 in the hotels — houris in clean print dresses and pretty 
 little white caps, doing the common household work, 
 yet always smiling and pleasant, and waiting about 
 to execute your orders. I don't think Fatinia would 
 have liked them. One day, too, Madam Fonblanque, 
 I went to the London law courts — the only day I 
 have really regretted. A number of ladies to whom 
 we should have given the sack or the bowstring were 
 on their trial. ' Poor things,' said I to myself " 
 
 " Why poor things ? " interrupted Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 "Because I pitied them at first, until I saw how 
 triumphant they all looked. The court was full of 
 other ladies, all most beautifully dressed, who took 
 their side at once." 
 
 " Then the ladies won ? " asked Mrs Fonblanque, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " In ' a canter,' as they call it, in their horse-races," 
 answered the Sheik, devoting himself for a few seconds 
 to his hookah. " The husbands, instead of being told 
 to take their wives out of court and get rid of them as 
 the law directs, were required to sign bonds before 
 the judge or kazi for as large a sum as the ladies in
 
 196 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 the audience and the gentlemen who recorded the 
 proceedings for the ladies who were unable to be 
 present (this is what they call a jury) thought be- 
 coming. In England you may take your wife about 
 unveiled ; but if she turn out a shrew, or something 
 worse, you are held responsible. You have to sign 
 a bond for so much money every year. She laughs 
 at you, and so does everybody else. I was sorry I 
 went to that court, I thought it best to tell Fatima 
 nothing about it, and yet all my friends said it was 
 the most fashionable entertainment in London, and 
 as there is nothing to pay, it was always much more 
 crowded than the theatres." 
 
 "Those recorders — the gentlemen who recorded," 
 said Mrs Fonblanque — " must be very useful." 
 
 "That's precisely as you take it," answered the 
 Sheik. "In the desert we wouldn't think much of 
 them. Put a spear in their hands instead of a goose- 
 quill, and they couldn't make a living anywhere be- 
 tween here and Bagdad. Truth is never new ; you 
 can't invent it if you would; and after all, truth is 
 what you want if you have to pay for it every 
 morning. All our truths have been carefully tested 
 by men of infinite learning for a thousand years, 
 and yet the Koran is still enough for me." 
 
 "You paid for your wives," said Mrs Fonblanque, 
 " or you say so. Never mind the Koran. You told
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 197 
 
 us just now that all of your wives were far too well- 
 bred ever to expect to be believed. Wasn't that so, 
 Mr Hicks ? How about truth now, Sheik ? " 
 
 " Oh," he replied, just as I was going to speak, 
 " Mr Hicks knows nothing about the Bedouins. We 
 have very different rules for the men and for the 
 women. There are two standards, just as there are 
 two heavens. A man must, as the Kazi's scribe said 
 in court, always speak 'the truth, the whole truth, 
 and nothing but the truth.' An Arabian lady can 
 always say what she likes. But in England, and 
 especially in London, a large number of very clever 
 men make their daily bread by retailing the latest 
 falsehoods at so much a line to-day, and at so much 
 more for contradicting them to-morrow. Walk down 
 Fleet Street, their news bazaar, Madam Fonblanque, 
 where these professional story-tellers drive their 
 abominable trade. Buy all they thrust upon you as 
 you go along on foot, and you will find everything 
 you thought good to be hopelessly bad, and every- 
 thing you so utterly despised, and your fathers before 
 you, to be the only chance of national salvation." 
 
 " How dreadful ! " exclaimed Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 "You have appealed to Mr Hicks once or twice. 
 I appeal to him now. Have I described Fleet Street 
 correctly or not ? " 
 
 " You wouldn't let me speak when I wanted to — I
 
 198 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 shan't speak now. I am not a child's doll, to be 
 squeezed whenever you have occasion to get a squeak 
 out of me." 
 
 " No ; I suppose not/' said the Sheik. " I think, 
 Madam Fonblanque, you will agree with me that Mr 
 Hicks would have contradicted me if he could." 
 
 " I do," answered Mrs Fonblanque, simply. " We 
 shall have to manage without him. Well, Sheik ? " 
 
 " Well, if anybody in Arabia wishes to feel a new 
 sensation, he has either to buy a new horse or a new 
 wife. Both are expensive. But in London you pay a 
 penny — one penny only — and your hair stands on end 
 till you have paid another penny for another paper as 
 a corrective." 
 
 "You seem to be a changeable race. Eh, Mr 
 Hicks ? " 
 
 " That is true," said the Sheik. " But you mustn't 
 talk to Mr Hicks, if you please." 
 
 " Well, we'll talk at him," she answered, cordially. 
 " You know something of men, Sheik, or should do, out 
 of your infinite knowledge of women. Should you 
 describe Mr Hicks as changeable ? " 
 
 " I think I should," he replied, thoughtfully. " He 
 has a changeable type of face, and then, you see, 
 everything is changeable among the people he comes 
 from. The young ladies, as I told you a short time 
 back, have no idea where their waists will be this day
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 199 
 
 six months, and the men change their Government 
 every year or two. A people like that can have no 
 real stake in the world. Our ideas, though Mahomet 
 modified them a little, have virtually remained the 
 same ever since the days of Esau." 
 
 The Sheik drew a long breath (as well he might), 
 and so did I. 
 
 " You are on your trial, Mr Hicks," said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, mildly. " Are you, or are you not, as change- 
 able as the rest of your people ? The Sheik says you 
 are. I pause for further evidence. Don't be so 
 glum." 
 
 "Take that," I said, handing her a sketch-book, 
 which I had filled as they were talking with illustra- 
 tive sketches of the Sheik's personal adventures. 
 "That's why I was so glum. The Sheik, if a trifle 
 difficult to follow, is a most amusing story-teller. 
 But still I thought you might- want a reminder of 
 what he said." 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque gave me an incredulous sort of 
 look, and then, with a disdainful wave of the hand, 
 she passed my sketch-book on to the Sheik. 
 
 " Yes," he said slowly, " that is perfect. That is the 
 English Miss as I knew her. I wish I were going- 
 round the world like you, Mr Hicks, with a chance of 
 meeting her again somewhere on the other side by- 
 and-by."
 
 200 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 "Perhaps you are going round the world, Sheik," 
 said Mrs Fonblanque in the most deliberate manner. 
 
 " No, I am only going to Muscat." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " she laughed. " That depends entirely 
 on me, and at present you are so entertaining that I 
 shall certainly not let you off." 
 
 " You are too good." 
 
 " No, I am not good at all. But I like to be amused, 
 and I don't know which amuses me most — your loquac- 
 ity or Mr Hicks's silence. I must ask Priscilla." 
 
 We came to Bushire eventually. 
 
 " It is a pity to stop the steamer," said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. 
 
 " So it is," replied the Captain, who had rejoined us. 
 " But it is too late to go ashore, and I shall be glad of 
 a rest." 
 
 "When the steamer starts again," said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, " you will continue your adventures, Sheik ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," he answered ; " now that I have got under 
 way, as the Captain calls it, I will go on as long as 
 you like. But I shall call on Mr Hicks for his experi- 
 ences before I continue mine. Salaam, madam ! salaam 
 sir ! The sunset calls me to prayer." 
 
 " Has he ever been in London ? " asked Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, as he disappeared. 
 
 " I really think so," I answered. " But whether he 
 has been there or not, he has a very original mind.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 201 
 
 You know nothing of London. But he told you a 
 great deal more about it than I knew myself." 
 
 "Yes, yes," cried Mrs Fonblanque, as I assisted her 
 to pick up her wraps, " he is clever, decidedly clever. 
 But " 
 
 " But what ? " I asked meekly, with my arms full of 
 shawls and rugs. 
 
 " I can't get him to look me full in the face, and he 
 reminds me most vividly every now and then of some 
 one I have met. At first I thought he reminded me 
 of my old Jesuit tutor ; but after hearing his experi- 
 ences, I am again completely puzzled."
 
 202 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 I can candidly say that Bushire, the "Father of 
 Cities," scarcely deserves its name. We anchored in 
 the roads nearly three miles off, and could not get a 
 proper view of it until the next morning, and then we 
 only saw through our telescopes a peninsula of low 
 level sand covered with an irregular mass of two- 
 storeyed houses, built of dried clay. Each of the more 
 important houses was fitted with wind-catchers, some- 
 thing like the windsails on our ship. They perform 
 the same vague and very occasional functions of the 
 cow-catchers in front of the American and Indian 
 locomotives. If a stray gust of wind comes their way 
 they catch it. That, from the way in which they are 
 built, is inevitable. And in the meantime they pose 
 as the one distinctive feature of Bushire. 
 
 " Are you going to wear that wonderful costume to- 
 day ? " I asked Mrs Fonblanque, as she moved away 
 from my telescope. 
 
 " Oh, you needn't make a guy of yourself to-day,
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 203 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque," said the skipper, cheerily. "The 
 Eesident's launch is waiting to take the whole party 
 off. His people will accompany us wherever we go. 
 Their costumes will be imposing enough for the lot of 
 us. You may, perhaps, find a thick veil useful. But 
 pray don't deprive your Arabian friend of the costume 
 that became him so admirably." 
 
 The Sheik looked up from his hookah. " I shan't 
 go to the Eesidency," he said firmly. Then he very 
 solemnly betook himself once more to his large amber 
 mouthpiece. 
 
 " And why not, Sheik, if we all go ? " inquired Mrs 
 Fonblanque. 
 
 " Because they wouldn't care to see me," he replied. 
 " In London I was somebody. I am somebody still in 
 Bagdad and Bussorah. In the desert I am a person- 
 age. But now we are virtually in India, and to all 
 intents and purposes I am a native. That means I 
 belong to the big world surrounding your little island, 
 and am utterly insignificant in consequence. Isn't 
 that so, Captain Forbes ? " 
 
 " I suspect it is," answered the Captain, frankly. 
 
 " But if you don't go to the Eesidency, what will you 
 do ? " 
 
 " I will go ashore with the rest of you, and show 
 you round the town. I will amuse the Nun, and try 
 to keep the gentleman of too many experiences away
 
 204 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 from the brandy-bottle. Then I will wait patiently in 
 the agent's office till you come back again, and if I 
 can find any good carpets I'll have them laid out for 
 Mrs Fonblanque to look at." 
 
 " Done with you," cried Captain Forbes. " That's 
 my programme too. I don't care much for society 
 outside of my own ship. We'll go together and wait 
 together, and Mrs Fonblanque and Mr Hicks will 
 bring us back all the latest gossip from the Eesi- 
 dency." 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque, however, insisted upon taking the 
 Nun with her. The Nun demurred at first, but at last 
 she consented to go. 
 
 I soon began to envy the others their apparent 
 self-abnegation. The Sheik, however, as long as we 
 were together, did his duty conscientiously. He made 
 us visit every nook and cranny of the vilest and most 
 unsavoury town I had ever set foot in. The Nun, 
 soft and generous-hearted creature as she was, had a 
 little copper coin ready for every beggar who came up, 
 and they soon swarmed round us like a crowd of buzz- 
 ing mosquitoes. She tried, too, in her gentle but 
 ineffectual manner, to brush away with her handker- 
 chief the flies that encircled the large black eyes of 
 every naked little Persian child we met ; and as Mrs 
 Fonblanque's purse was ready when the Nun's was 
 exhausted, we were followed wherever we went by a
 
 LADY BIXEBEAED. 205 
 
 long retinue of children. Here the " gentleman of too 
 many experiences/' as the Sheik termed him, came in 
 handy. Sent to Coventry as he had very properly 
 been, he naturally wished to rehabilitate himself in 
 society. He dogged our steps from afar, and when 
 the ladies were not looking round he successfully pro- 
 duced a startling stampede among the poor little pests 
 who followed us. They had just found out that Mrs 
 Fonblanque had no copper coins in her purse. She 
 was a regular silver-mine, and a very gracious and 
 abundant silver-mine too ; and when I was beinnnino- 
 to be alarmed for her, the obnoxious passenger so 
 freely and so successfully used his stick that he scat- 
 tered the children in a moment. Then he came up 
 smiling, as if thoroughly reinstated. I did not hear 
 the precise words that Mrs Fonblanque, instigated by 
 the Nun, actually used; but he fell behind at once, 
 and that was, I am thankful to say, the last I saw of 
 him. 
 
 How did Bushire strike me ? I scarcely know. 
 Like many other seaport towns in Asia — and else- 
 where — it looks best from the deck of a steamer. The 
 bazaars were the merest and muddiest bridle-paths, 
 with squalid shops on either side, and there was little 
 or nothing in them but cheap goods from Europe, pro- 
 duce from the country inland, and tea from India. 
 Every shopkeeper, whatever else he dealt in, seemed to
 
 206 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 deal in tea, and in many of the shops there were con- 
 siderable quantities of bad turquoises. 
 
 The men, sturdy hulking fellows, dressed in nothing 
 but coarse blue calico blouses, open at the neck to 
 show their hairy chests, and with queer little round 
 felt hats on their heads, had such pink and white com- 
 plexions that Mrs Fonblanque thought they must be 
 rouged. The few women we saw had lost not only 
 their comeliness, but their individuality, in their 
 clothes. They were muffled up in coarse blue cloth 
 wraps and skirts, and green trousers, and high boots 
 of untanned leather. The outer garment of blue cloth 
 was drawn completely over their faces, with a narrow 
 slit cut across for their bold black eyes. I have 
 always noticed among the veiled women I have 
 chanced to meet, that the closer they are veiled the 
 bolder their eyes appear to be. This may be an illu- 
 sion, or it may be a natural law, but to arrive at the 
 exact truth the other side of the question should be 
 studied. These particular Bushire ladies, however, 
 wore as many clothes as the proverbial Dutchman, 
 and as they waddled along they looked for all the 
 world like so many bundles of old clothes going volun- 
 tarily to the wash. 
 
 Some of the buildings in Bushire were rather im- 
 pressive — from the outside. And — by way, I sup- 
 pose, of showing a good front — all the best buildings
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 207 
 
 faced the sea. But it cannot possibly be a slight on 
 Bushire to say that the buildings which really im- 
 pressed me most were the buildings in embryo. Here 
 the Sheik was good enough to explain to us the pro- 
 cess of their erection. " Brother," said the man on the 
 top scaffolding, " in the name of God, toss me up a 
 brick." And the man below, as he threw it up, said, 
 " Brother, in the name of God, receive the brick." 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque and I laughed a little at these very 
 ceremonious builders. But their work, though slowly 
 put together, was as true and square and accurate as 
 if the workmen had all been English or Scotch Free- 
 masons ; and the houses in Bushire had, at all events, 
 the merit of being stoutly built. Deliberation and 
 courtesy are not always wasted, and are perhaps too 
 much neglected by the European contractor in his 
 haste to grow rich. 
 
 I certainly did not like Bushire. But for all that, I 
 could not help noticing that the khans' and merchants' 
 offices had fine large courts inside them, with great 
 warehouses or " go-downs " on the ground-floor. The 
 little Armenian church had not, it is true, much to 
 boast of in the way of architecture, but there were 
 some touching monuments to the British officers who 
 fell in 1857. The Custom-house, though the officials 
 do all they can to hamper trade, is a building of im- 
 portance ; and close beside it we came upon the Gover-
 
 208 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 nor's palace, over which floated the Persian flag, a 
 pretty green ensign with a yellow maneless lion carry- 
 ing a sword in his month. The building, however, 
 was falling into decay — and not unnaturally, when 
 every new governor has to buy his place from the 
 Prince of Fars, and make what he can out of it before 
 he is dismissed. 
 
 A number of Persian soldiers were standing about 
 on guard. They wore soiled scarlet tunics, and such 
 breeches and boots as Providence put in their way. 
 They were armed with the Enfield rifle, and though 
 their guns were dirty and their bayonets covered with 
 rust, few of them were under five feet nine inches in 
 height, and they might, I should say, be formidable 
 fellows if they were properly led. And they should 
 be properly led ; for Mrs Fonblanque noticed at once 
 the difference between the men and their officers, who 
 were handsome fellows, well built, tall, fair, and comely, 
 and carried their inches as if born to command. The 
 officers evidently took some pride in their dress, and 
 one of them, an extremely courteous man, who tried 
 to turn the guard out in honour of us or our attend- 
 ants, politely allowed Mrs Fonblanque to examine his 
 Astrakan hat. He explained to her, through the Sheik, 
 that what we know as Astrakan in Europe is only the 
 skin of an unborn lamb, and can be had anywhere 
 where sheep are common. In the middle of this rather
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 209 
 
 complicated translation of foreign idioms, an orderly 
 came up to remind him that it was time to fire the 
 mid-day gun. In another twenty minutes or so the 
 guard whom he had tried to call out in our honour 
 were properly awakened. But the officer thoughtfully 
 ordered them to escort our party behind the shelter of 
 the nearest wall, and very courageously fired the gun 
 himself. The guns, he explained to us afterwards, 
 had been captured from the Turks, and were now 
 almost as decayed as the palace, and honeycombed to 
 the extreme edge of their bronze muzzles. ISTo one, he 
 added, but the chief officer on duty was ever bound to 
 apply the portfire to their touch-holes. Mrs Fon- 
 blanque thought him a gallant officer, and so, from the 
 little I had seen of him, did I. He was pleased with 
 our compliments, but explained that he had had the 
 manifold advantages of a training under the Shah's 
 German officers at Teheran. 
 
 He insisted upon escorting us to the British Eesi- 
 dency, a good substantial building, with many stair- 
 cases and many courtyards, and zealously guarded by 
 a number of smart-looking sepoys from India. Here 
 the day's troubles really began. We had made a ter- 
 rible mistake. The Eesident of Bushire has a country 
 house as well as a town house. Just now he was in 
 his country house six miles off, and that was why he 
 had sent his steam-launch off for us, and why Captain 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 210 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 Forbes and the Persian engineer in charge of the 
 launch had, without in the least knowing the cause of 
 the dispute, held a fierce altercation during our little 
 voyage to the Custom-house. 
 
 Everything, however, in these remote regions is, or 
 should be, done by telegraphy. And we quickly dis- 
 covered that in the Eesidency itself there was a tele- 
 graph office on the balcony beside the drawing-room. 
 By the help of the Armenian clerk, who worked it, we 
 were asked to come down as soon as possible, so as to 
 be in time for tiffin. A rough sort of dog-cart was 
 ordered out of the stable, and while the grooms were 
 putting the horse in, the Persian officer and the Sheik 
 took their leave and went off together, and we were 
 left to our own devices. 
 
 I really could not venture to drive. I did not know 
 our destination, to begin with, and then the Sheik with 
 his last words had assured me that there were no roads. 
 Mrs Fonblanque thought, I suppose, that I could not 
 drive, but after a time she consented to sit beside the 
 Persian driver, while the Nun and I climbed up into 
 the back seat. 
 
 The driver, not unnaturally, spoke nothing but Per- 
 sian. Mrs Fonblanque knew nothing of it ; no more 
 did I. The Nun spoke it fluently, and until she began 
 to talk, I had no idea that it was such a pretty language. 
 The Sheik was right about the roads. They were like
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 211 
 
 General Wade's at the early period, and the Nun was 
 soon far too preoccupied in imploring me to prevent 
 her falling off to interpret Mrs Fonblanque's questions 
 accurately to the driver. The jolting was dreadful. 
 "We were going in a straight line, much as a field-gun 
 might have gone at some desperate moment, across a 
 desert of little sand-hills, and along a route that was 
 marked out on one side by telegraph posts. There 
 were no springs to our cart, and the Nun looked as if 
 she were going to faint, and never recovered anything 
 like her usual colour till our horse took us through a 
 broad deep pool and splashed everybody liberally. 
 After that, though I had still to hold on to her, I was 
 fairly astonished at the Nun's sprightliness. But by 
 this time Mrs Fonblanque, who had not received the 
 slightest sympathy from the Persian driver, was evi- 
 dently suffering in her turn. She would not talk 
 through the Nun in Persian, and she would not say a 
 word to me in plain English. I pressed her to tell me 
 why and how she suffered. I implored her to change 
 places with me or with the Nun. She declined to 
 speak even then. At last she said she had a headache ; 
 and she was obviously cross. So I did what she had 
 herself beseeched me to do. I made it my duty to 
 look after the Nun a little, to cheer her up, and enter- 
 tain her, and to see that she was not stifled for want 
 of fresh air and frank companionship.
 
 212 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 I succeeded better than I expected. To me this 
 lumpy road along the telegraph wires was a novel ex- 
 perience ; but the Nun knew all about it, and though 
 we only penetrated for about six miles into Persia, I 
 soon began to think that I had " done " the country 
 completely. First of all, she told me to look at Bushire. 
 As imposing from the sandy desert as from the sea, it 
 was a two-faced, empty-hearted imposition at the best. 
 The city, she said, as she looked back, was exactly like 
 all the other Persian towns she knew. Here the high 
 city walls happened to be two miles round, and very 
 unusually formidable. But there was a big gap every 
 hundred yards or so, through which the enemy might 
 come in — if they chose. 
 
 We met, or crossed, as we proceeded on our reckless 
 career, long strings of donkeys, camels, and mules, 
 coming and going. The mules and camels were jour- 
 neying to and from Shiraz, and of those outward bound, 
 each mule had his regulation bale on his back, and 
 each camel his two bales, the one balancing the other ; 
 and if a sulky expression ever means anything, none 
 of the camels appeared to think that their burdens 
 were fairly adjusted. Of the donkeys, some carried 
 firewood, but most of them were laden with huge black 
 skins of water for Bushire, where there is none. They 
 went in strings, with a single driver behind, who sat 
 almost on the tail of the last and biggest donkey of
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 213 
 
 the lot, and yet nevertheless, by the use of strong 
 language and the bold flourishes of a great stick, man- 
 aged somehow or other to keep the file in tolerable 
 marching order. Most of the donkeys had their nostrils 
 slit up for about an inch and a half ; and this was, as 
 the Nun explained to me, a cruel practice, so as to en- 
 able them to breathe more air, and so travel farther. 
 Then we were passed by the three horses laden with 
 the mails from our steamer. Every mail, it seems, big 
 or little, is started off on the backs of three horses, 
 which are galloped full speed for twenty miles, and 
 then changed for others. The speed is merely for 
 bravado. The three horses are also expected to carry 
 two passengers. This they call riding chapar. Two 
 passengers do not often turn up in Persia ; but when 
 they do, and if they are fond of sight-seeing, nobody 
 cares if the mails are a few days late. 
 
 By this time the Nun and I were heartily tired of 
 the monotony of the road, and both perhaps a little 
 put out by Mrs Fonblanque's silence ; and as I really 
 could not get her to speak, I questioned the Nun about 
 her experiences in Persia. She answered me very 
 pleasantly. Her descriptions were vivid and almost 
 humorous. I could hear the rude Persian children 
 laughing at her bad Persian. I could see the schools 
 she had to visit, all open to the streets like booths 
 in a bazaar, with a crowd of eager children frantic-
 
 214 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 ally reciting their lessons to an old begoggled 
 pedagogue. 
 
 Had she seen the Shah ? Of course she had, and 
 seen him often. He was a man with big moustaches 
 and a clean-shaven chin, and always dressed in plain 
 black clothes. He often used to drive past the 
 nunnery, behind his crimson-tailed horses, attended 
 by a crowd of men in scarlet. She had even been 
 admitted into the sacred precincts of the harem, and 
 had conversed with several of his wives. There were 
 some three hundred of her own sex there, but many 
 were still quite children, and more were negro serv- 
 ing-maids. They were all reviewed by their royal 
 master every Thursday ; and when I asked her if he 
 still went through the form of throwing the handker- 
 chief, she said he did. 
 
 We were getting along capitally, when Mrs Fon- 
 blanque suddenly made the driver understand that 
 she wanted him to stop. 
 
 " I really cannot stand the nonsense you two are 
 talking," she said sharply, in reply to my remon- 
 strances as she tried to alight. "What can a Nun 
 know about throwing the handkerchief ? And what 
 do you mean by cross-examining her in that way ? 
 You are making yourself ridiculous, Mr Hicks. This 
 jolting is too much for me. I shall get out and walk. 
 Be good enough to help me down."
 
 LADY BLUEBEAED. 215 
 
 I refused point-blank. To walk under this broiling 
 sun was simply impossible for a lady. It was bad 
 enough to be driven. Mrs Fonblanque's indignation 
 affected us all in different ways. The driver, know- 
 ing nothing but his own language and the language 
 that is common to all of us, grinned. The Nun looked 
 at Mrs Fonblanque with a suspicion of tears in her 
 clear eyes ; and I, hurt though I was, frowned as 
 serenely and impressively as I could. We carried 
 the day amongst us. She kept her seat. And when 
 the Nun in a half whisper told me of a visit she had 
 once paid to the Well of Death, into which they used 
 to throw all the cruel and unkind and childless and 
 unloving women of Shiraz, I contrived, rather adroitly 
 I thought, to turn the conversation to the Plague. 
 Here she became exceedingly pathetic, though she 
 said little about herself, and nothing, of course, of the 
 man she loved. I began to be really interested in 
 what she said, and I honestly think she was almost 
 as sorry as I was when the soldiers on duty presented 
 arms to us as we drove through the Eesidency gate- 
 way. 
 
 Here everything was suddenly changed. We were 
 gently assisted, as if by magic, into a princely man- 
 sion, standing in a magnificent and ample garden, full 
 of brilliant flowers, and surrounded further than we 
 could see by citron-trees and sycamores. But, as we
 
 216 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 entered the house, the change in Mrs Fonblanque per- 
 sonally was almost as magical as the change in our 
 surroundings. She put us, and our hosts for that 
 matter, at our ease in a moment. And very gracious 
 people they seemed to be as they led us through the 
 ample entrance-hall. A few hundred yards away, we 
 had left all we knew of Persia — a narrow, monotonous, 
 and arid experience at the best — and here we were 
 pleasantly located in a luxurious and comfortable Eng- 
 lish home. The Besident and his lady might have 
 been taken anywhere for county magnates, and as 
 admirable types of courtly old-fashioned English hos- 
 pitality. It did the three of us good, I fancy, even 
 to look at their daughters. Both of them had frank 
 eyes and merry faces. Both were physically fresh and 
 fair, and very sweet and girlish ; and as we saw them 
 in their simple muslin gowns, it was almost impos- 
 sible to believe that there could be any sort of human 
 link between them and those slouching bundles of old 
 clothes we had encountered in the bazaar. The very 
 rooms in the Residency and the very furniture had 
 an appearance of refinement and repose. In the 
 drawing-room the last English and French books and 
 periodicals were scattered about on the tables, cut and 
 half cut. The open piano was covered with music, 
 new and old. The dining-room, though the glaring
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 217 
 
 sunlight was carefully shut off, seemed to glitter again 
 with snowy linen, well-cut glass, and sparkling silver. 
 I began, as I took my place at the tiffin -table, to 
 realise how it is that people are tempted to waste 
 their hopes and energies in the East.
 
 218 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 How is it that men with plenty of brains and ability 
 and an over-abundance of energy do waste themselves 
 in the East ? There is, for one thing, a sense of finality 
 about an Indian appointment that is perhaps more 
 gratifying to a man's relatives than to himself. But 
 why should anybody deliberately drop out of the 
 running for twenty or thirty years ? The luxury of 
 the ^Resident's drawing-room and dining-room, and 
 the noiseless attentions of his innumerable servants, 
 seemed to solve one part of the question; and, in- 
 deed, I have never seen a happier or more contented- 
 looking man than the Eesident as he sat in the middle 
 of his family circle. I should like to have discussed 
 this latest phase of my transition theory, and its 
 adaptability to all manner of circumstances and 
 places, with Mrs Fonblanque. Unfortunately, how- 
 ever, she was not sitting beside me, and though she 
 seemed to be doing her best to please everybody else, 
 she would not answer my looks. 
 
 I consoled myself nevertheless. The tiffin was good.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 219 
 
 The Eesident's cook had been carefully trained. The 
 Eesiclent himself was brimming over with genial hos- 
 pitality. I should probably never see him again. 
 Mrs Fonblanque, unless we chanced to be ship- 
 wrecked, I should meet every day for a fortnight. 
 In one glance I tried to show her what I thought. 
 Then I devoted myself to the Eesident. And he 
 most amply repaid me, not so much by anything 
 he said himself, for here he was very guarded, but 
 by introducing me to a gentleman directly opposite, 
 who was, said the Eesident, the one man who knew 
 Persia; and this gentleman's health, it seemed, sent 
 him out here every year. I gathered indirectly from 
 the general conversation that he was a doctor, and 
 had once practised in the country. 
 
 Then the Eesident politely devoted himself to Mrs 
 Fonblanque, who sat on his right, and they seemed to 
 find a good deal to say to one another. 
 
 My friend the traveller — who had, by the way, a 
 long brown beard that went down below the table- 
 cloth, and curious brown eyes that evidently took in 
 far more than they gave out — managed to engross me 
 almost immediately, for he told me some of the things 
 — apart, of course, from the mystery surrounding Mrs 
 Fonblanque — that I most wanted to hear just then. 
 He knew so much about Persia that I scarcely liked 
 to interrupt him at first.
 
 220 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " Is Shiraz wine," I began at last, " really as good 
 as the Persian poets say ? " 
 
 "Well, I have tasted better," he replied, making 
 rather a wry face. " I never kept it myself when I 
 lived in Persia, and I should recommend you not to 
 touch it so long as you can get a sound dry sherry. 
 Try that decanter of our host's to your right. That 
 will show you what Shiraz wine is not like." 
 
 "Yes," I answered, smiling. "But, as a traveller, 
 I am bound to be inquisitive. This is a capital 
 sherry. Is Shiraz wine ? " 
 
 "The very finest of it fetches a shilling and six- 
 pence a bottle, the ordinary stuff threepence, and 
 both are dear at the price. There are two kinds, 
 Shiraz and Hamadan, and the prevailing flavour in 
 each is that of sweet spirits of nitre. I fancy that 
 Hafiz was easily pleased, and that he must often 
 have had a very bad headache in the morning. 
 Perhaps the Cholat grape, like everything else here, 
 has degenerated since then. You smile, but I have 
 lived in Persia too long to believe in anything that 
 Persia produces now." 
 
 "Eussia, you mean" — I had read my newspapers, 
 of course — " has stopped Persian productiveness alto- 
 gether." 
 
 " No," he continued ; " I did not exactly mean that, 
 though Eussia, no doubt, is gradually monopolising
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 221 
 
 the whole import trade. I was thinking of Persia 
 some centuries back, when Persian exquisites set the 
 fashion to the whole Eastern world, and Persian poets 
 sang in every oriental court, and Persian merchants 
 carried her art manufactures to all the ports of India, 
 Arabia, and Cathay. There is no Persian industry 
 now, except, perhaps, that of carpets and rugs, and 
 even the best of these are snapped up by the Prus- 
 sians." 
 
 "That is a pity," I answered. "But why is the 
 industry decaying if the demand has increased?" 
 
 " Well," he answered, " a few years back no two of 
 the rugs here were identical in design. Every work- 
 man did what was in him, and signed his carpets as 
 our painters do their pictures. jSTow the whole trade 
 is in the hands of foreigners. Favourite old carpets 
 are copied and re-copied till the weavers see that 
 originality does not pay. And to make matters worse, 
 they are deliberately — deliberately I say — encouraged 
 to use aniline dyes." 
 
 " You speak severely," I ventured to remark. 
 
 " I speak as I feel," he answered, " and as every one 
 interested in Persia must feel. The Shah, if he gave 
 you an interview, would talk in very much the same 
 strain. I hear that he has just issued an edict, under 
 which the hands of any carpet-maker found using 
 aniline dyes will be chopped off then and there, and
 
 222 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 nailed up over his own house-door, as a warning to 
 other evil-doers." 
 
 " That seems sufficiently drastic," I said. " Do you 
 approve of it ? " 
 
 "Well," replied the traveller smiling, "I am, I 
 own, very fond of old Persian rugs. Their colours 
 blend so marvellously well that one envies the men 
 who foresaw the changes that time would make. 
 Perhaps I should approve of the Shah's edict if there 
 were the slightest chance of this law or any other 
 Persian law being effectively administered. The 
 Shah, after Baron Pieuter took him to Europe, came 
 back with many good schemes in his head for the 
 reformation of his country. He began by putting 
 letter-boxes up in all the towns and villages through 
 which men with a grievance or a suggestion were to 
 correspond with him direct. The magistrates, how- 
 ever, ordered that every one who dared to approach 
 the pillar-boxes should " eat stick " — that is, should 
 be soundly bastinadoed. The Shah is like the Czar. 
 He represents and embodies a terribly strong auto- 
 cracy, but personally he is helpless." 
 
 " Has he ever been to Bushire ? " I inquired. 
 
 " No. He is always on the move, but he cannot 
 achieve a visit to the south. Every year the people 
 here think that he is coming. But the local governors 
 are afraid of his followers, who are as hungry and
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 223 
 
 almost as numerous as the main column of an in- 
 vading army of locusts. They always invent a famine, 
 and that stops him. They are right, of course, to pro- 
 tect their people ; and then perhaps some of them 
 wouldn't exactly like to have their book scrutinised 
 by his auditors." 
 
 "What would he do to them," I asked, " if the books 
 were wrong ? " 
 
 "It is difficult to say. But there is nothing he 
 might not do if he chose. The grandfather of the 
 present governor of Shiraz was boiled to death. The 
 bakers of Ispahan, when they were caught adulter- 
 ating their bread, were baked alive in their own 
 ovens. A wealthy merchant of the same town 
 was weak enough to complain to the Shah that 
 he had been illegally taxed. He was brought be- 
 fore the Prince in charge of the district. ' What 
 a brave man you must be to report me to the 
 Shah!' said the Prince. 'What a large-hearted, 
 lion-hearted man ! I really must have a look at 
 that curious heart of yours ! ' And in a few minutes 
 it was brought to him on a plate." 
 
 " How very shocking ! " I cried. 
 
 " Well, I don't know," said the doctor. " I am 
 inclined to think that the system suits the country. 
 We hear now and then of an atrocity in high 
 places ; but for that very reason there is little or no
 
 224 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 crime among the people. And as a rule, life and 
 property are safer in Persia than in any other 
 country I know." 
 
 " Well," said I, " I must of course bow to your 
 superior knowledge. But you were saying just now 
 that the trade of the country is monopolised by 
 foreigners. Are there many foreigners in Bushire ? 
 I should have thought that foreigners — European 
 foreigners at all events — would have insisted upon 
 some better system of sanitary arrangements." 
 
 " Perhaps I was speaking rather too generally," he 
 replied. " There are, I believe, only three European 
 firms here — two Scotch firms and a Dutch one. 
 But they finance most of the wholesale trade. The 
 rest of the business is entirely in the hands of Jews 
 and Armenians, and it is difficult to ascertain which 
 of them do most harm to the country. It takes seven 
 Scotchmen, they say, to cheat a Jew, and seven Jews to 
 cheat an Armenian. You can judge then of the actual 
 position of the unfortunate aborigines. The Ameri- 
 cans are just beginning to cut in, and then the misery 
 of Bushire will be complete." 
 
 " My dear," said the Kesident's lady, " the doctor 
 and Mr Hicks and yourself have done nothing but talk 
 • shop ' ever since we sat down. Tiffin is over now, 
 and it is time for us to get up and try if we can't find 
 something better to talk about."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 225 
 
 I felt, as we all rose, the implied rebuke ; but I 
 had learned a good deal I have not recorded here that 
 was of interest to myself, and I had the materials for 
 a letter that would, I knew, be of the greatest interest 
 to my uncle. 
 
 The ladies went straight to the piano : after eating, 
 ladies always go straight to the piano, just as men go 
 straight to the smoking-room. And as I followed 
 them, I saw in this a very pretty little problem for 
 solution later on. 
 
 " You sing, Mrs Fonblanque ? " said the younger 
 daughter. 
 
 " Oh yes, I sing," answered Mrs Fonblanque non- 
 chalantly ; " but who doesn't ? " 
 
 I thought I recognised a clear way here towards 
 making my peace with her. 
 
 I opened the pages of a music-book, and then behind 
 it said aside, " Do sing. There's a piano here. You 
 know we have no piano on board. Keep your promise 
 and sing really." 
 
 Our host and hostess pressed Mrs Fonblanque too, 
 just as I was speaking. She bowed acquiescence to 
 them, but kept her words for me. " Thank you so 
 much, Mr Hicks ! " she said icily and aside, as the 
 girls were bringing up their stores of new music. " I 
 will sing. I accept your challenge. You are a flirt, sir, 
 and a fool. But I will do what you ask. I will sing 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 226 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 ' really,' as you insist on saying. I will show you that 
 I can do something you cannot do. I will try my best, 
 Mr Hicks, to make you feel very small indeed for once. 
 Then I will never speak to you again, and you and your 
 Nun may go on talking duets as long as ever you please." 
 
 All this was said in the gentlest tones, and the girls, 
 I am sure, thought that I was having a very happy 
 time of it. 
 
 " I was telling Mr Hicks," she continued aloud, as 
 she took her seat at the piano, " that all the arts are 
 sisters. He is fond as a painter of painting tomb- 
 stones, so I think I will begin with a dirge as a pen- 
 dant to his Ezra's Tomb." 
 
 I never knew what she played. The motive was 
 probably Irish. But as she sang it, it was terribly 
 pathetic. All our eyes but hers were wet when she 
 abruptly stopped. 
 
 " Now you sing," said Mrs Fonblanque to the elder 
 sister, as she rose from the music-stool. 
 
 " No," said the Eesident, gravely. " We have vege- 
 tated here so long that I had completely forgotten what 
 the human voice could do. Neither of my girls will 
 open the piano again, Mrs Fonblanque, if you shut it 
 up. Please go on. I never knew that I was sensitive 
 before. That dirge of yours will haunt me when you 
 have gone, unless you are good enough to leave us a 
 brighter recollection."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 227 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque laughed gaily, and I now began to 
 see why her laughter was always so musical. She 
 rejected the piles of new music that they brought her. 
 She never played from music, she said, and then she 
 again took her place at the piano. She rattled off a 
 jingling French chansonnette which made us smile, 
 though we could not follow the words. Then, as the 
 Eesident's lady was just as urgent as the Eesident 
 himself, she gave us a couple of pathetic Scotch 
 ballads, a dreamy German hymn, a nocturne, and 
 finished up with an impassioned rendering of Robert, 
 toi que j'aime! A nice revenge ! But she ignored me 
 altogether ; and when we pressed her to continue, she 
 quietly asked the Eesident when the steamer was 
 timed to sail. 
 
 We had forgotten the steamer completely. 
 
 Her Majesty's mails, however, cannot wait beyond 
 a reasonable time, even in the Persian Gulf. The 
 barouche was ordered out at once, and a telegram 
 was despatched to the town Eesidency, ordering the 
 steam-launch round to the point by the telegraph 
 offices immediately. We drank our cups of afternoon 
 tea standing, as the Israelites used to eat their pass- 
 over. Everybody wished to see the last of Mrs 
 Fonblanque, but eventually the Eesident pushed his 
 younger daughter into the carriage, and told us to 
 drive as quickly as possible. He must have been a
 
 228 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 thoughtful and considerate man to see that, as we 
 three were all at sixes and sevens, we would like to 
 have the fourth seat filled up. The young lady, how- 
 ever, laughed a little at her father's energy. 
 
 " The mails can't go," she said, " till he seals his bag, 
 and he can't seal it till mamma has finished her home 
 letters ; and she had only just begun them when you 
 came in. We shall have to wait an hour yet." Then 
 she coolly told the coachman to drive to the Indo- 
 European telegraph offices. 
 
 The doctor had told me that there were only three 
 European firms in Bushire. But there were twenty or 
 thirty Europeans at least living in the handsome 
 telegraph offices on the seashore, half a mile or so 
 from the Eesidency. Many of them were gentlemen. 
 Some had their wives with them. Our young hostess 
 seemed quite at home here. She took us into the 
 lawn-tennis courts to wait till the steam-launch should 
 turn up. The men stopped playing as we could not 
 well join in, and did all they could to be agreeable. 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque, of course, fascinated everybody 
 off-hand. 
 
 " The Eesident's lady," I heard her say to one par- 
 ticularly obsequious attendant of about five minutes' 
 standing, " seems to possess a fund of inexhaustible 
 information." 
 
 " I should think so," he replied, laughing. " Don't
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 229 
 
 you know that she is the ' Empress of the Gulf,' and 
 that for four hundred miles, more or less, she rules us 
 all with a rod of iron ? You look upon us as stranded 
 and isolated; but you are wrong there. We don't 
 often see anybody, certainly, but when the cable is not 
 occupied by public messages, we are free to telegraph 
 all the gossip we like, and this little lawn-tennis court 
 is the focus of all the news and gossip of four hundred 
 miles. Most of us in the outlying stations have never 
 met, but we know each other as well as you know 
 your fellow-passengers. We have nothing to study 
 but ourselves. Every case is fairly discussed here 
 every afternoon, and from Fao to Kurrachee the deci- 
 sions of the Eesident's lady are accepted as final." 
 
 " That is a pretty state of things," said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, " but I had no idea that the gossip of two or 
 three different countries could be so easily localised. 
 If every three or four hundred miles of India were 
 subjected in the same way to the arbitration of a 
 social empress, I suspect there would soon be a 
 mutiny among the Anglo-Indian ladies." 
 
 Just then, however, the steam-launch came up 
 panting, and we started for the ship. 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque would not speak to me, and so, of 
 course, I could not speak to her. At last she spoke to 
 the Nun. She said we were taking a wrong course : 
 " Captain Forbes and the Sheik and that unfortunate
 
 230 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 acquaintance of yours said they would wait for us at 
 the agent's office, where they promised to have some 
 carpets for me to look at. Perhaps, Sister Patricia, as 
 you speak Persian so well, you would tell the man at 
 the wheel that we should like to land at the beach 
 before we go to the ship." 
 
 The Nun in her timid way conveyed the message to 
 the man at the wheel, and eventually we arrived at 
 the Custom-house wharf, or the mud bank that was 
 supposed to represent it ; and here, rather to my 
 astonishment, I found Captain Forbes and the Sheik. 
 
 " I thought you would both be on board by this 
 time," I said. 
 
 " I like that," replied the Captain. " We promised 
 to wait here for all you good people, and we shall have 
 to wait, goodness knows how much longer, for the 
 mails. They are generally a good hour after the 
 Residency guests." 
 
 " We have got the carpets," said the Sheik. " We 
 left your black attendant in charge of them at the 
 agent's office. She appears to know something about 
 carpets, judging by the way she took her shoes off to 
 try how they felt, and looked at the patterns on the 
 wroncj side." 
 
 Mrs Ponblanque, however, was thoroughly put out. 
 She was scarcely more civil to the Sheik than she had 
 been to me. She went with us to the agent's office,
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 231 
 
 where there were twenty or thirty carpets strewn 
 about the floor. Priscilla, from the way she looked at 
 them, had evidently a poor opinion of the carpets. 
 Captain Forbes told Mrs Fonblanque to be careful in 
 making her selection, as much better carpets could be 
 had at Bunder Abbas. Mrs Fonblanque retorted by 
 telling Priscilla to hire a boat and have the whole lot 
 taken on board immediately. 
 
 The coolies with the carpets were, however, stopped 
 at the gateway by the agent's clerk, who quietly sug- 
 gested that they must first be paid for. Mrs Fon- 
 blanque glanced at him very disdainfully, and, with- 
 out saying a word, opened her purse and showed him 
 a letter. The effect was instantaneous. The clerk 
 became effusively polite. 
 
 " Understand, sir," she said, " I mean to have all 
 the carpets, but I shall only pay a fair price for them. 
 My ayah, Priscilla, will fix the price, and you will 
 give the dealers their money, and take care that I am 
 not cheated. Send her after us in a boat." 
 
 Then she swept out of the office, and we followed 
 her to the launch. 
 
 Just as we were getting on board, I was the victim 
 of rather a ludicrous accident. A very tall and stately 
 individual, clad in white flowing robes, sedately ap- 
 proached us. He had a white-and-gold turban on his 
 head. A venerable beard covered all but two narrow
 
 232 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 oblique sections of an aristocratic though chocolate- 
 coloured face. He held out his hand to me. I 
 grasped it warmly. To my astonishment, the crowd 
 and the crew, and the Captain himself, all burst into an 
 immoderate fit of laughter, and even Mrs Fonblanque, 
 after a word with Captain Forbes, looked very much 
 amused. 
 
 " I don't care two straws for your ribaldry," I said. 
 '* I don't share your anti-native feelings. If a Persian 
 gentleman desires to wish me God-speed, a gentleman 
 of obvious rank and of distinguished appearance " 
 
 " Hold hard, man," cried the Captain, trying to stop 
 laughing. " You won't get off as cheaply as you 
 think. That distinguished-looking old chap is the 
 head beggar here, and he certainly won't be satisfied 
 with the honour of shaking hands with you. He is 
 holding out his hand again. Shake it again," and 
 then Captain Forbes had a relapse. 
 
 The venerable personage, who had never smiled 
 once, salaamed to me so pathetically as I got into 
 the steam-launch, that I tossed him a coin, and I left 
 him fighting for it with all the urchins in the place. 
 
 This seemed to vastly amuse the people in the boat, 
 and kept them in good humour till we reached the 
 steamer. Mrs Fonblanque, however, never opened 
 her lips; and after having made a fool of myself, 
 mine, of course, were sealed.
 
 LADY BLUEBEAED. 233 
 
 " My dear, dear friend," said the Nun gently, when 
 we were all on deck again, " it mortifies me more than 
 you can know to find you so silent. Am I to blame ? 
 I am sorry, indeed, that I came with you, and so, I 
 think, is Mr Hicks, the artist." 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque crossed over to the bulwark where 
 I was standing. 
 
 " Are you as sorry as the Nun ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes," I said, " sorry and hurt. You treated me 
 atrociously when you said you would never speak to 
 me again, and you had no right to laugh as you did 
 just now." 
 
 " That I really couldn't help," she said, half smiling. 
 " But when I was cross I wasn't thinking of you. I 
 was thinking of the Nun." 
 
 " And she, poor thing," I answered, " was thinking 
 all the time of the gallant French gentleman who 
 chose to abandon her so suddenly." 
 
 " And you ? " said Mrs Fonblanque. " What were 
 you thinking of, as you tried to hold the Nun on to 
 the cart ? " 
 
 " Of you," I answered boldly, and almost beyond 
 myself. " Since I met you, and you turned back, our 
 lives seem to have got mixed up in some inextricable 
 manner. I detest the way you treat me, and I think 
 you behaved very meanly to-day, both to the Nun and 
 myself. But your eyes haunt me by day and by night.
 
 234 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 When I try to paint, I can paint nothing but your face. 
 I shall end, whether I wish it or not, or whether I 
 know it or not, by hating you intensely — or loving you !" 
 
 " Hush, hush, Mr Hicks ! " she replied softly. "Don't 
 talk so wildly. Priscilla will hear you, and here she is 
 with her big bales of carpets." 
 
 Then she again crossed the quarter-deck, and as no 
 one but Priscilla and I were looking on, she took the 
 Nun's two hands in hers and kissed her affectionately. 
 
 Captain Forbes came up just then, and Mrs Fon- 
 blanque turned round at once. 
 
 " Where is the gentleman of too many experiences?" 
 she inquired. 
 
 " Oh," said the Captain, rubbing his hands, " I think 
 I have got rid of him. He went to the agent's and sat 
 himself clown as if he were a lord. They gave him a 
 bottle of whisky, but by the time he had finished his 
 bottle, I came in, and they didn't offer him another. 
 He pulled himself together at the sight of me, and 
 said he would like to brush his hair. ' Only let me 
 brush my hair,' he said, ' and I shall be as right as a 
 trivet. That's the only penalty I pay to the bottle; 
 but I can brush away the effects of the heaviest 
 nking-bout in five minutes.' Then he disappeared, 
 and when I heard of him last, he was lying clown in 
 one of the liquor-shops in the bazaar, where, I suppose, 
 there were no hair-brushes."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 235 
 
 "And you left him there ! " cried the Nun. 
 
 " Most deliberately," answered the Captain. " I 
 never meant him to set foot in my ship again. He 
 disgraced himself when he was here, and he has not 
 even taken the trouble to pay for his passage. Here, 
 Quartermaster, keep that boat by us till the steward 
 has bundled all the passenger's traps on board of her."
 
 23' 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 By the time we had finished dinner, the steamer was 
 going at the unusually rapid speed of nine knots an 
 hour. There was no moon, and the night would have 
 been intensely dark but for the stars. I had never 
 seen them so brilliant before. They were pointing 
 mysteriously upwards and downwards with their 
 slender golden fingers. The evening star — Venus I 
 think it was — threw a broad belt of light across the 
 Gulf, much as the moon does in our mistier atmos- 
 phere, and we could see, as they crossed it, the huge 
 brown sails of the Arab dhows or buggalows. Had it 
 not been for this tremulous and glittering streak, the 
 sea at a little distance was as black as jet. Eound the 
 steamer, however, as she ploughed her way forward, 
 the rushing waters were literally alive with phospho- 
 rescent fire, and her tall black hull stood boldly out 
 like the phantom-ships of which, as an adventurous 
 schoolboy, I had been always dreaming. Beyond this 
 immediate halo of firelit foam, the waves were now
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 237 
 
 and again lit up with faint and unexpected flashes of 
 blue and violet, which occasionally aroused some great 
 fish from his slumbers, and sent him rushing through 
 the sea in a thin line of livid light into the region of 
 outer darkness. The horsekeepers on board had just 
 commenced the drowsy songs with which their un- 
 fortunate horses were to be kept on their legs all 
 night long. We could hear from afar the jests and 
 disputes of the pilgrims, and the monotonous ditties 
 they intoned to the slow music of the tar. 
 
 Suddenly there was a most ear-rending and awful 
 shriek. 
 
 " What was that ? " cried Mrs Fonblanque, clutch- 
 ing my arm. 
 
 "Oh, that's nothing," said the Captain, who hap- 
 pened to be passing. " They are * bishoping ' a horse — 
 that's all. They ' bishop ' all the aged horses on the 
 voyage down. They cut away the surface of the in- 
 cisor teeth with a dentist's rose-head hand-drill, and 
 then give them the marks of a young horse. But 
 they've no right to disturb my first-class passengers 
 at night. I'll give them a bit of my mind." 
 
 And so he did ; and for a short time it seemed as if 
 everybody on board the ship had gone to sleep. We 
 could hear nothing but the throbbing of the engines. 
 Mrs Fonblanque and I once more appeared to be alone. 
 I was glad of the silence, for I was in the very mood
 
 238 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 to enjoy a new experience like this, and I did my best 
 to make Mrs Fonblanque enjoy it too. But she 
 allowed me to do most of the talking. 
 
 " Watch that fish ! " I cried, as one of the many 
 startled monsters of the deep drew a bright line as 
 straight as if it had been ruled over the dark sea. 
 " He goes like a rocket. You can almost hear him 
 hiss. The night is beautiful above us, and beautiful 
 below. Look at that Ions? foaming streak of lisjht we 
 leave behind us in our wake, and the great lumps of 
 light that go plunging through the water from the 
 steamer's discharge-pipe." 
 
 " Oh," said Mrs Fonblanque shortly, " it is all 
 very interesting, no doubt ; but I am rather tired of 
 phosphorus, and meteorology, and geography, and physi- 
 cal geography, and sea-scapes and ocean effects, and of 
 having you posing as Nature's showman at my elbow 
 every moment, Mr Hicks. You forget that I saw all 
 that there is to be seen when I came up the Gulf. 
 There is nothing like human nature. So Sam Slick 
 used to say. I must say that I agree with Sam 
 Slick, and I really cannot feel the slightest enthusi- 
 asm in the insect-life that lights up the sea to-night. 
 Talk about men and women. Talk about me, and 
 if you can't talk about me, why, talk about your- 
 self ; or if you can't talk about yourself, do please be 
 silent."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 239 
 
 " That's very much what you said to me a short 
 time back." 
 
 " Is it ? " she answered. " But doesn't it seem a 
 very, very long time since ? " 
 
 This was rather too hard on me. Could I talk about 
 myself ? I really thought I could. 
 
 So when Mrs Fonblanque, politely stifling a yawn, 
 asked me to call the Sheik up to continue his English 
 reminiscences, I told her somewhat disingenuously 
 that the Sheik was indisposed, and that if she pleased 
 I would give her my own experiences instead. 
 
 "Well, you may try," said Mrs Fonblanque, doubt- 
 fully ; u but I don't fancy that you can be quite so 
 original as the Sheik is, and you mustn't mind my 
 going early to bed." 
 
 Here the Nun, to my dismay, appeared on the 
 scene, and, at a quiet signal from Mrs Fonblanque, I 
 assisted her to a chair. 
 
 Xow that we had a " gallery," I thought it would 
 be impossible to talk as frankly as I should have liked. 
 But with her very first words Mrs Fonblanque put me 
 on my metal. 
 
 " You were born," she began deliberately, " in the 
 year eighteen hundred — and what ? and your mother 
 thought you the very finest baby " 
 
 c: Xo," said I. " My mother, poor soul, died when I 
 was born. My life began at nine years old, in a little
 
 240 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 hut or hollow mound that we had built just for our 
 two selves out of the grass lying drying in the meadow 
 by the river. It was long after tea-time ; but I cared 
 nothing for the scolding I knew I should get later on. 
 The farming men and girls were singing blithely as 
 they went home, with their scythes and rakes over 
 their shoulders, across the stepping-stones in the river. 
 The doorway into our little grass-house would have 
 been just big enough to show Edith and myself the 
 broad sun as he sank slowly and reluctantly in a gor- 
 geous crimson glory behind the ridge of pale green 
 larches in the park, only, as it happened, Edith was 
 fast asleep." 
 
 " Go on," said Mrs Fonblanque. " I shall be asleep 
 myself directly." 
 
 I saw, however, that the Nun was listening. I was 
 myself honestly interested in my story. So I con- 
 tinued : " She was eight and I was nine. We had 
 been hay-making all the afternoon, and perhaps a 
 little too boisterously. Now, however, Edith was 
 sound asleep, with one small white arm across her 
 eyes. I watched her as she lay there, on a heap of 
 fragrant grass. The interior of that little grass hut, 
 with little Edith in it, is the picture that has cast its 
 colours and its shadows over my whole life. I can 
 see it now as I saw it then. I remember wondering 
 in a vague and dreamy way what subtle and extra-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 241 
 
 ordinary changes were coming over me, when the farm- 
 ing girls on the farther side of the stepping-stones 
 suddenly stopped singing. I began to live then, Mrs 
 Fonblanque, for it was then I began to love." 
 
 " Oh, Mr Hicks ! " said the Nun, and then she stop- 
 ped short. 
 
 " You will frighten him, dear," said Mrs Fonblanque, 
 half aside. " Let me manage him, please. You were 
 nine and she was " 
 
 " Eight," I answered. " But I don't think that you 
 or Sister Patricia, or anybody else grown up, can quite 
 realise the lasting influence of childish affections." 
 
 "There I agree with you," cried Mrs Fonblanque. 
 " I don't think you at all foolish in what you say about 
 the strength of childish memories. I, too, have recol- 
 lections, but I like yours. Papa, poor man, used to 
 tell me that I had been a flirt ever since I could hold 
 a fan over my face." 
 
 " I meant a different set of affections altogether," I 
 replied. " She was eight and I was nine. She was 
 eighteen and I was nineteen when we parted." 
 
 " Oh, but you mustn't skip like that," said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. " What happened in the interval ? " 
 
 "Please tell us everything from the beginning, 
 Mr Hicks," exclaimed the Nun, very timidly. " I 
 like to hear you talk like this. Girls, when they 
 are young, are, I fancy, much the same as boys, and I 
 
 vol. I. Q
 
 242 LADY BLUEBEABD. 
 
 really should like to hear your true feelings as a 
 boy." 
 
 " Begin at the beginning, sir, since Sister Patricia 
 desires it," said Mrs Fonblanque. " Begin at the be- 
 ginning as the Sheik did." 
 
 " 1 have begun at the beginning," I replied. " There 
 is only one thing I distinctly remember before this, 
 outside of my nursery reminiscences." 
 
 " And that ? " they both exclaimed. 
 
 "I had been away for a long time, somewhere on 
 an island, I think, and I brought home a big white 
 china dog as a present for my father. I don't re- 
 member buying the dog, or why I chose it, but I 
 clearly remember carrying it into my father's study 
 when he was hard at work, and I remember him get- 
 ting up and patting me on the head, and placing it in 
 a conspicuous place among the art treasures that 
 crowded his little book-surrounded sanctum. I was 
 about five then, and this dog of mine seemed to give 
 me a kind of proprietary right in my father's study 
 ever afterwards." 
 
 " And what did your father give you in return ? " 
 asked Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " A funnel and a trumpet, elaborately carved with 
 sharp shells out of ironwood, which an old seafaring 
 friend had brought him from the Sandwich Islands 
 when they were still unknown. I used to work away
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 243 
 
 with my pocket-knife for months after I got my funnel 
 and my trumpet ; but my attempts gave me, I am 
 sorry to say, an exceedingly high opinion of art in the 
 South Seas." 
 
 " I really have no patience with you," cried Mrs 
 Fonblanque ; " you seem to have no individuality, no 
 trust in yourself, no faith in your own art." 
 
 "Oh, don't," said the Nun. 
 
 " I was only five," I continued ; " but I daresay you 
 are right, Mrs Fonblanque, and I have often been dis- 
 couraged since then. I used, however, just then to 
 shut my clasp-knife up in despair and dream of the 
 hideous beasts on my funnel, and of the cannibals who 
 had carved them. You cannot imagine what an in- 
 tense and fearful pleasure I took in those weird childish 
 fancies, or how they followed me up the dark passages 
 and creaking staircases every evening, or how much 
 they told me of unknown islands, all surrounded by 
 unapproachable foaming reefs, and all covered by 
 thick groves of cocoa-nut trees with their nuts full 
 of milk." 
 
 " Xo ; I can't imagine all that. But I beg your 
 pardon — I forgot that you were only five years old. 
 Your uncle, if he is fond of you, must be fond of 
 curiosities. What did he say to the unwarrantable 
 appearance of a trumpery china dog in the very middle 
 of your father's choice collection of works of art ? "
 
 2±± LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 "He said that iny father must be in his dotage; 
 but he wasn't — not a bit of it. When I saw my 
 father last, three years ago, I said, ' I see the old dog 
 is still there, sir, in his old place.' ' Yes, my boy, and 
 there it will remain,' he answered. c It annoys your 
 uncle, who is always getting presents himself, to think 
 that I ever had a present from anybody too small to 
 expect something much handsomer in return. I shall 
 leave him that china dog when I die, and I only wish 
 I could be here to see him receive it. Wait till he has 
 a boy of his own, and he won't be quite so cynical.' " 
 
 "That's rather a nice reminiscence after all," said 
 Mrs Fonblanque, sighing faintly. " I thought I liked 
 your uncle, but I don't much care for cynical old men. 
 What do you say, dear ? " 
 
 The Nun shook her head, as if young men and old, 
 cynical and cheerful, were all equally absent from her 
 thoughts. Mrs Fonblanque took her hand. 
 
 " Sister Patricia is right," she said ; " we would both 
 of us rather hear more about little Edith." 
 
 " I could talk for ever about her," I cried, warmly. 
 
 " At the time of the haystack episode she was eight, 
 and you were nine " 
 
 " Not quite nine," I answered. " She was eighteen, 
 and I " 
 
 " Oh, stop, stop ! What did you do in the interval ? 
 A boy of your precocity must have had many interest-
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 245 
 
 ing experiences besides that china dog before you 
 were nearly nineteen." 
 
 " For those ten years," I answered hotly, " I thought 
 of nothing but Edith." 
 
 " But surely you went to school," said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. " She couldn't well go with you. "What did 
 you do there ? " 
 
 " Nothing much," I replied. " I went to school, of 
 course, but with a little talisman round my neck like 
 the knights of old, of whom we used to read about 
 together in my father's study in an illuminated copy 
 of Froissart's ' Chronicles.' It was a crushed little 
 spray of honeysuckle which she had given me after 
 we had paid a farewell visit to all our pets in the 
 park. I put it under the glass cover of an old for- 
 gotten miniature, and I always wore it. The boys in 
 the dormitory used to tease me about my talisman, 
 and when we were bathing one day a big hulking 
 bully seized hold of it and trod it into fragments 
 under his boots. I got two bad black eyes in the 
 struggle, but the boys thought none the worse of me 
 for showing fight. I had lost my talisman,.but as long 
 as I was at school, I always felt that talisman round 
 my neck, and I think it did me good then. Just 
 now, Sister Patricia, you said that boys and girls 
 are much the same, and I suppose their schools are 
 much alike."
 
 246 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " I don't know," said the Nun, shyly. " I was never 
 at school myself. But did you tell Edith about that 
 tight with the big boy over his talisman ? " 
 
 " No, indeed," I answered. " I couldn't well men- 
 tion my black eyes. And then, somehow or other, as 
 we grew older, we both grew shyer. Long ago, shortly 
 after what Mrs Fonblanque not very kindly called 
 ' the haystack episode,' she lost one of her stockings 
 and both of her shoes in wading over a stream I 
 wanted her to cross, and I had to carry her home, 
 and she kissed me heartily for it when they sent her 
 to bed in disgrace. But everything was changed 
 when I came back from school. She was altered, 
 or I was." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs Fonblanque, " give the young 
 lady the benefit of the doubt." 
 
 "Xo, I shan't," I answered. "There was no doubt. 
 And if she was changed, it was only for the better ; 
 and I was always much shyer really than Edith." 
 
 " She was eight and you were nine ? " 
 
 " She wasn't always eight, and I wasn't always 
 nine, Mrs Fonblanque. We grew older, and things 
 changed. I remember hating having to kiss her on 
 my last Christmas holidays, when all the old people 
 were kissing each other under the mistletoe in the 
 hall. She hid behind the armour on one side of the 
 big staircase, and I hid on the other."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 247 
 
 " But you both went under the mistletoe at last ? " 
 said the Nun. 
 
 "Well, yes, they made us go. But it was a sad 
 mistake. I was shyer than ever after that ; and yet 
 the less she seemed to like me, the more I loved her." 
 
 " Then why did you say good-bye to her when you 
 were nineteen ? " asked Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " I never quite knew," I answered. " But I sup- 
 pose that my financial difficulties were somehow or 
 other at the bottom of it. When I left school, my 
 uncle wanted to put me into his Liverpool office. 
 But I insisted upon going to London to be an author, 
 or an artist, or anything else you please, so as to be 
 able to live at Putney, where Edith was still at school, 
 and where I could catch a glimpse, once a-week, of 
 her through the curious old oak carving of the secluded 
 school-pew on the left-hand side of the altar, in the 
 old parish church. Then her father came into an 
 immense fortune, and she was a great heiress. She 
 left Putney suddenly. . But one of the school servants 
 brought a little pencil note to my lodgings to say that 
 she was going. We said our last good-bye at the 
 Putney railway station." 
 
 " That was surely very, very cruel of her," said the 
 Nun. 
 
 11 Xo, no, it wasn't," I answered. " She was crying, 
 not cruel."
 
 248 LADY BLUEBEAKD. 
 
 " Go on," said Mrs Fonblanque, stiffly. 
 
 " Directly the governess left, she put her head out 
 of the railway carriage and said, 'Not good-bye, 
 Hector; don't say good-bye.' But the train was 
 starting, and I said good-bye as bravely as I could. 
 She was an heiress then, and I had not even a trade, 
 and I knew that my father had spent every penny of 
 his own money and my mother's on his collections. 
 I never saw her again till she was married, and that 
 was how I took to painting, Mrs Fonblanque, and 
 why I have never yet made much out of it." 
 
 " Don't be savage, Mr Hicks," said Mrs Fonblanque, 
 very gently. " I really begin to like your reminis- 
 cences better than the Sheik's, now that Edith has 
 gone out of them. Did you ever see her again ? " 
 
 " Yes," I replied. " At first I was always trying to 
 see her. I used to haunt the theatres, when I knew 
 she was in town, and hang about the park and the 
 picture-galleries, and when I saw anybody like her, 
 I went home in a fever. Face to face I always knew 
 her, of course. But she had a pretty, proud little 
 way of holding her head up, which, when I was 
 behind other women, often deceived me." 
 
 " Poor dear Mr Hicks ! " said Mrs Fonblanque in a 
 low aside that was evidently divided between the 
 Nun and myself. "That kind of feeling is as 
 common as the measles, and much more frequent.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 249 
 
 I have often had it, and, Sister Patricia, you must 
 have had it too. But we couldn't either of us haunt 
 the parks and theatres and public places, so as to 
 grow hot and cold, as Mr Hicks did, at the back view 
 of anybody's head in a hat. "We had to sit at home, 
 my dear, hadn't we, and stitch our fingers off in fancy- 
 work as we waited for a knock at the front door that 
 we knew perfectly well would never come again ? " 
 
 " Madam," cried the Nun rapidly, with her cheeks 
 on fire, "your experiences are too many for me. I 
 never did anything of the kind. I thought Mr 
 Hicks's story a nice one, because he frankly told us 
 his feelings as a child. It is long since I was a child, 
 and it was a pleasant reminiscence." 
 
 " Yes, dear, it was," replied Mrs Fonblanque. " I 
 only meant to say that Mr Hicks has not a monopoly 
 of all reminiscences. He would monopolise every- 
 thing if you let him. Forgive me, Mr Hick.s. The 
 Xun, I see, has forgiven me. What did you do 
 next ? " 
 
 " I managed to live on somehow," I said, gruffly. 
 
 "And what did your uncle say about her marri- 
 age ? " asked Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " He said nothing about her marriage. But he said 
 I was a tremendous young fool for saying good-bye to 
 her at the Putney railway station because she was 
 an heiress and I was a pauper. I had never before
 
 250 LADY BLUEBEABD. 
 
 seen him in such a vile temper. He asked me why I 
 had not gone into his Liverpool office instead of trying 
 to dabble in two of the most beggarly trades there are, 
 and why the dickens or something worse I had not 
 been man enough to write to him before I said good- 
 bye to Edith in heroics, like a play-actor. Then he 
 told me to go to the devil, and paint portraits of her 
 husband." 
 
 " I begin to understand your uncle now," said Mrs 
 Fonblanque. " I always liked him. He is not really 
 cynical. He loved your mother long before your 
 father did. He thought you loved Edith in the same 
 way. He meant to make your fortune in his Liver- 
 pool office, and you were conceited and silly enough to 
 spoil all his plans." 
 
 " I almost think you are right, Mrs Eonblanque," I 
 answered. " He hates the career I have adopted ; but 
 he has been wonderfully good to me ever since." 
 
 " He is like the rest of us," she said. " We are all 
 of us far too good to you. Sister Patricia is looking at 
 you as if you had been a martyr, instead of having 
 been most miserably weak. But still, if you began 
 life like this, you must have reminiscences enough to 
 last the voyage out. Next time Sister Patricia and I 
 have you up to tell us your story, I promise to accom- 
 pany the touching tale of your early loves with my 
 guitar or my banjo — which ? "
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 251 
 
 I was going to answer Mrs Fonblanque rather 
 roughly, but something in Sister Patricia's eloquent, 
 soft brown eyes stopped me, and I contented myself 
 by saying — "You really have no right to be so exces- 
 sively disagreeable. I talked at first simply to amuse 
 you. I forgot myself, and became natural." 
 
 "Well, well," said Mrs Fonblanque, "don't be 
 cross. I'll keep the banjo for the old Sheik's tarra- 
 diddles." 
 
 "Thank you, madam," said the Sheik, who had just 
 come aft with Captain Forbes to see why the lights on 
 the quarter-deck were not out yet. "Thank you," and 
 his voice was lower and deeper than ever. " What is 
 a banjo, and what is a tarradiddle ? " 
 
 " Good night," retorted Mrs Fonblanque, imperturb- 
 able to the last. " Good night. I believe that Mr 
 Hicks and you have some deep-laid plot against me, 
 and come to each other's aid whenever either of you 
 are getting the worst of it. Stop now, Sheik ! Do 
 you mean to tell me for a moment that Mr Hicks has 
 only one reminiscence, while you have Fatima and 
 Zuleika and Kour Mahal, and all the rest of them ? " 
 
 " I meant nothing of the kind," I cried. " I am not 
 fool enough to think that the world does not spin 
 round as freely now as before, simply because I could 
 not look as honestly as I used to look into the eyes of 
 the particular girl who loved me and left me."
 
 252 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " Then you have other reminiscences ? " she inquired 
 quickly. 
 
 " Of course I have," I answered. " The world spins 
 round, and we all, whether men or women, specks on 
 it as we are, must spin round too, until we drop off 
 for good and all." 
 
 Then, as we all rose, I tried to take a tardy revenge. 
 " Staircase wit," I think the Americans call this Tar- 
 thian method of saying as you go what you ought to 
 have said at once. Mrs Fonblanque, however, as she 
 listened, seemed to be really sorry for the way in which 
 she had treated me. 
 
 " No, thank you," she said, in reply to my remarks. 
 " My reminiscences ? ISTo, thank you. A woman 
 never has any. Isn't that so, Sister Patricia ? " 
 
 And then they went together slowly, arm in arm, 
 towards the companion.
 
 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Here I must begin, somewhat reluctantly, I own, by 
 " pulling myself together." Mrs Fonblanque had told 
 me rather more candidly than I altogether liked that 
 she was tired of geography and physical geography, 
 and of hearing me talk as if the Persian Gulf, with all 
 its ports and islands, was a peep-show, of which I had 
 constituted myself the showman. I am still con- 
 vinced that her sound common-sense and her almost 
 invariable good taste were for once at fault here. 
 That is one side of the question — the personal side. 
 On the other hand, she was certainly a type, and a 
 type of a large number of people, too. I had never 
 been in the Persian Gulf before, and I knew so well 
 the sorry value my uncle attached to my pet theory 
 of the influence of sudden transitions that I half 
 began to suspect, from what Mrs Fonblanque had 
 said, that I might have been rather overdoing it. 
 The world is, after all, very much the same all over ; 
 and probably those lazy Arab herdsmen who leant so
 
 254 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 picturesquely on their tall spears, as we watched them 
 in the deep recesses of the palm groves below Bus- 
 sorah, were thinking, every man of them, over the 
 same problem as Hodge in his blouse at home — how 
 to find food enough for the children swarming round 
 their wigwams, and for those who would inevitably 
 come. 
 
 M. Xavier de Maistre wrote that charming book of 
 travels, his ' Voyage autour de ma Chambre,' brimful of 
 humanity, or of men and women, as Mrs Fonblanque 
 termed it, without ever taking the trouble to look out 
 of his bedroom window. You remember what he said 
 of the big arm-chair in his study ? And what he said 
 about his old bed in the corner ? We are born there, 
 we die there, and there we -spend our happiest mo- 
 ments. It is a cradle, a tomb, a throne. There is a 
 good deal of humanity condensed in that one sentence; 
 and his simple mode of travel is not only easy and 
 very comfortable, but has the additional advantage of 
 costing nothing. My little house-boat off Meclenham 
 was probably more luxuriously furnished than the 
 chamber of M. Xavier de Maistre. It had, too, a 
 wonderful look-out, and, 1 should imagine, far greater 
 possibilities of a charming book about it than M. 
 Xavier de Maistre ever possessed. Why, then, had I 
 been fool enough to cut my moorings adrift, and rush 
 round the world in this breathless manner, to be
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 255 
 
 snubbed at every turning ? Judging from Mrs Fon- 
 blanque's opinion of me just then, I had, perhaps, 
 travelled a little too fast. 
 
 A few years back I used to frequent the police 
 courts, with a view, as I honestly believed, of drawing- 
 character sketches. One day a little urchin was 
 dragged into the Thames police court by an enormous 
 policeman. "A stowaway, your worship," said the 
 policeman, making the boy hold his head up over the 
 dock. " He was found in the 'tween decks of a 
 steamer for Yokohama, and said he wanted to see the 
 world." " You are a fool, little boy," said the magis- 
 trate, adjusting his spectacles — and he was a shrewd, 
 sensible, kindly man, like most stipendiary magistrates 
 of any standing. " If you want to see the world, little 
 boy, stop in London, and black boots, or sell news- 
 papers. Any London street has more of the world in 
 it than you will find in many thousand miles of travel 
 on the deck of an ocean-steamer. Take the little boy 
 away, policeman, and let him go. Now ask that 
 rather over-dressed young woman to be good enough 
 to take his place." The rather over-dressed young 
 woman's experiences showed, I am sorry to say, that 
 the worthy magistrate's advice to the little boy had 
 been perfectly sound. 
 
 Even the slight humour of this half-forgotten epi- 
 sode scarcely reconciles me to the sacrifice I am mak-
 
 256 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 ing. I should dearly love to describe the wonderful 
 bank of grey-black hills behind the low coast-line of 
 Persia, as they shone out, when the sun was full upon 
 them, in every shade of purple, pink, and red. I 
 should like to say something of the towering peaks, 
 covered here and there with snow, of Gisakhan Bluff 
 and. Kuh Kliormaj, of Jabal Turunjah, Jabal Ginao, 
 Jabal Bis, and of the narrow passes in the dismal hills 
 through which the long caravans crawl slowly, like 
 huge black serpents, into the upland plains, and then 
 make for Teheran, Shiraz, and Yezd. I should like to 
 describe the ever-varying charms of a zigzag voyage, 
 in which you continually cross from shore to shore. 
 Now you are in Arabia, where the men, rich or poor, 
 have the manners and the carriage of Nature's gentle- 
 men. Now you are in Persia, where every one, no 
 matter how he may be attired, seems somehow or other 
 to bear the stigma of slave and sycophant impressed 
 upon his forehead, like a birth-mark. You cross 
 quickly from shore to shore, and change is always 
 pleasant. Still Mrs Fonblanque was probably right. 
 My business just now is with men and women — with 
 myself, that is, primarily, and then with others some- 
 thing like me. I tear up my elaborate note-books, 
 sketches and all, and anybody who wants a full, true, 
 and particular account of a voyage down the Persian 
 Gulf must go elsewhere.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 257 
 
 Carpets ! Yes, carpets. That should interest all 
 who have money enough to buy what I am writing, 
 and for this portion of humanity I have naturally the 
 keenest and warmest regard. Mrs Fonblanque pre- 
 tended that she did not care two straws whether her 
 carpets were good or bad; but she was sufficiently 
 artistic to be something of an amateur. Long before 
 we came to Bahrein, she had her carpets laid out on 
 the quarter-deck, with the Sheik, and, incidentally, 
 the skipper and myself, told off as critics. Neither he 
 nor I knew any more of Persian carpets than we knew 
 of the carpets of Brussels or Kidderminster or the 
 Tottenham Court Eoad. But we respected a lady 
 who was able to buy her carpets by the mile. The 
 Sheik, however, was evidently wide awake here, 
 though he chose to distrust his own judgment at 
 first. 
 
 " Wait till I find you an expert," he said, " before 
 you make up your mind that you can, if you like it, 
 realise cent per cent on your carpets. There's a man 
 down below among the pilgrims who knows every- 
 thing that can be known about Persian carpets." 
 
 This individual was a disagreeable-looking fellow, 
 and not otherwise interesting or aesthetic ; but he went 
 straight to the point, and the Sheik good-naturedly 
 translated all he said. There are, it seems, three kinds 
 of carpets — kale, namad, and gelim. Mrs Fonblanque's 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 carpets were all meant to belong to the first class. A 
 few were worth what she had paid, but none of them, 
 in spite of their stains, were really old. The namads, 
 which he himself admired as much as any, were never 
 exported. They were not woven, but made of felt, 
 hammered out in a paste, and were very large and 
 very cheap. What else should Mrs Fonblanque buy ? 
 He recommended Kerman shawls ; tiles and bricks with 
 hunting scenes on them ; stray bits of old mosaic from 
 the mosques of Ispahan and Shiraz; embroidery in 
 gold and silver ; bowls and plaques of Cashee ware ; 
 Khorassan blades and fine chain-armour, cunningly in- 
 laid with gold. 
 
 " It sounds like Keats," I said. " One could easily 
 turn the man's catalogue into verse." 
 
 " That would be easier, perhaps," remarked the Cap- 
 tain, " than adding it up in rupees." 
 
 The expert, however, went on with his list. Blue 
 and green tiles, if they were really a thousand years 
 old, commanded fabulous prices. The fluted milk- 
 white porcelain was dear and rare. Beautiful manu- 
 scripts of the Koran and the poets were to be had 
 sometimes ; but the lady would be cheated if she did 
 not employ a broker. He had given up business him- 
 self, but would be happy to act for her. Mrs Fon- 
 blanque, whose faith in human nature never appeared 
 to be very strong, smiled at this. But as she smiled
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 259 
 
 she turned towards the Sheik ; so did we. We had 
 been empanelled as a jury of critics, and had not been 
 asked for a verdict. 
 
 The Sheik took the expert's robe in his hand and 
 pulled him gently aside. A few low and earnest 
 words were interchanged. Then the man salaamed 
 most humbly, and the Sheik came back to us to say 
 that the expert might be thoroughly trusted. 
 
 The Sheik's arrangement saved Mrs Fonblanque a 
 great deal of trouble, no doubt, but it must later on 
 have cost her much money. Whenever we were about 
 to drop anchor anywhere, the Sheik's friend used to 
 come up to her for instructions, and for some hours 
 afterwards he was always busily engaged in marshal- 
 ling heavily-laden porters down to the saloon, in 
 which Priscilla and he, friends at last, continued to 
 fill one vacant cabin after another with the oddest col- 
 lection of things you can possibly imagine. I made 
 from time to time a few small purchases on my own 
 account. Mrs Fonblanque laughed at these. "You 
 ought to see mine," she said. "But I don't think 
 that dreadful Priscilla will let you see them." And 
 Mrs Fonblanque was quite right. 
 
 I have, however, promised to sacrifice my note-books 
 and myself. The first sacrifice was happily not so 
 painful as it might have been, for during the next 
 six-and-thirty hours the Sheik occupied the greater
 
 260 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 part of the time in continuing his English experiences 
 to Mrs Fonblanque and the Nun, the latter of whom 
 was, I thought, rather more obsequious to Mrs Fon- 
 blanque than seemed altogether warranted by the 
 way in which she had been treated. They appeared 
 to be amused by what the Sheik said ; but I had had 
 enough of Mrs Fonblanque and the Sheik just then, 
 and I busied myself by painting a portrait for Polly 
 and the bairns of our worthy Quartermaster, whose 
 well-lined, weather-beaten, kindly old face had some- 
 thing very tempting about it to an artist. 
 
 "Why are you painting the Quartermaster?" asked 
 Mrs Fonblanque over dinner next evening. 
 
 " He interests me," I answered. " I like painting 
 people who interest me." 
 
 " Do you hear that, Captain Forbes ? " cried Mrs 
 Fonblanque, trying to drag an entirely innocent person 
 into a duel that should, like all duels, have been con- 
 fined to the two principals. " Mr Hicks only paints 
 portraits of people who interest him. Three or four 
 days ago he declined to paint me " 
 
 " I thought it was you who refused to let me paint 
 you," I replied. "Anyhow, there is not much in 
 common between you and the Quartermaster. He 
 is transparent. He requires no preliminary study. 
 He interests me. He is amusing and intensely 
 humorous, never flippant, and always natural. He
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 261 
 
 talks when I want him to talk, and he knows when I 
 wish him to be silent. I have had a most refreshing 
 day. I feel as if I had taken a dip in the sea. He 
 has actually given me an appetite." 
 
 " That is a good thing," said Mrs Fonblanque. 
 "But there is no accounting for taste. Priscilla 
 shares your interest in the Quartermaster. They 
 were always gossiping together until you beguiled 
 him away from her this morning. You saved me 
 the trouble of asking her to be good enough to let 
 the unfortunate man alone, so as to be able to attend 
 to her duties. I suppose he was still harping away 
 on Polly and her bairns ? " 
 
 " No," I said, and then I stopped. Mrs Fon- 
 blanque's words threw a new light on the Quarter- 
 master's conversation. He had favoured me, as I 
 painted him, with his experiences of womankind in 
 general, Polly, of course, excepted. I had begun to 
 think him a misogynist. Some of his parables 
 having been rather too crude and tough for me, I 
 had ended by taking him for a bore. That was 
 distinctly wrong. I should never have allowed a 
 Quartermaster to bore me. So I devoted myself 
 sedulously to a very badly cooked dinner, just to 
 try and recall what he had said. What had Priscilla 
 told him about Mrs Fonblanque ? What had he told 
 me ? I gave it up.
 
 262 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 It was all Mrs Fonblanque's fault for posing as a 
 mystery. I scrutinised her closely as she frowned 
 gently over the menu. I was scarcely in a charitable 
 frame of mind. But she was just as unlike the 
 Sphinx as any well-dressed woman could be. 
 
 "I wonder," I said slowly, trying to hark back on 
 the scent — " I wonder that you allow your maid to be 
 always gossiping with one of the sailors. Native 
 women are apt to be indiscreet, and sailors are always 
 talkative." 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque laughed serenely, and I did not 
 get much out of this little manoeuvre except a fit of 
 depression that kept me apart from the rest as if I 
 had been a pariah, and made me decline an invitation 
 to accompany them ashore next morning. 
 
 " I don't care about seeing Bahrein," I said (we 
 had dropped anchor off Bahrein during the night). 
 " Any one of these places is just like another, and in 
 future, when we stop anywhere, I shall devote myself 
 religiously to the ' Arabian Nights.' " 
 
 "Do," said Mrs Fonblanque. "It is a charming 
 book. It is the only book I thought anything of 
 when I was seven." 
 
 " Well," I added, " that may perhaps be taken as an 
 argument that your taste has not improved much since 
 then. At all events, I mean to study the East now 
 that I am here, and the ' Arabian Nights ' seems to me
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 263 
 
 a pleasanter and a safer guide than any of the odours 
 of these unsavoury bazaars." 
 
 So Captain Forbes went ashore by himself. We 
 watched him through our glasses. He was met about 
 a hundred and fifty yards from the beach by an enor- 
 mous donkey, which he mounted from the gunnels of 
 his gig. 
 
 "Sister Patricia," said Mrs Fonblanque, "I should 
 like a ride. Wouldn't you ? Those donkeys are fine 
 big beasts. See how Captain Forbes is galloping over 
 the sands ! Let us go by ourselves for a scamper." 
 
 " I should like a scamper," answered the Nun. " But 
 is it safe ? " 
 
 "Oh, never mind that, dear. Mr Hicks would 
 come, of course, if he thought it wasn't." 
 
 I turned on my heel. I gave each of them by turn 
 a look of perfect indifference, as I went down below 
 to unpack my copy of the ' Arabian Nights.' By the 
 time I returned, the two ladies were sitting in a broad- 
 bottomed boat manned by a crew of grinning negroes 
 shrieking and gesticulating like fiends. The Nun 
 looked very frightened. She gave me an imploring 
 glance as Mrs Fonblanque motioned to them to push 
 off. I had just time to jump in. 
 
 "We were only waiting for you," explained Mrs 
 Fonblanque, amicably making room for me on a pile 
 of rugs and wraps between her and the Nun.
 
 264 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " I said I wasn't coming." 
 
 " Oh yes, you said so, I know ; and Sister Patricia 
 said you wouldn't come, too. But I knew better. I 
 had not the slightest intention of letting you off. You 
 can't think that I was such a goose as to dream of going 
 without a man. Come now, Mr Hicks. You are 
 thoroughly beaten ; own it, and now do all you can 
 to make yourself agreeable to two unprotected females." 
 
 I was not exactly in the humour to be agreeable, 
 and I did not care to try. But I had a stick in my 
 hands, and I kept the negro boatmen in order until 
 we came alongside of three big donkeys standing in 
 the water. 
 
 When I saw the donkeys, I recovered my temper. 
 " Now, ladies," I said, " you want a ride. Give me the 
 pleasure of assisting you to mount." 
 
 "We mean to ride," said Mrs Fonblanque severely, 
 " but we want side-saddles, if you please, Mr Hicks." 
 
 " Don't blame me," I cried. " You can't say that I 
 dragged you here." 
 
 " I think we had far better go back," said the 'Nun. 
 
 "Just then the Sheik rode up on a huge white 
 donkey. He had been away on some business of his 
 own since daybreak. 
 
 "Why are you coming on shore ?" he asked, hurriedly. 
 " Go back ! go back at once ! The people are swarming 
 down to the beach. They have never seen European
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 265 
 
 ladies before, and you have not even got your veils on. 
 Take them back ! Take them back, Mr Hicks ! What 
 could have induced you to bring them ? " 
 
 The Sheik had a very pretty vein of humour. I 
 contented myself by smiling grimly. But Mrs Fon- 
 blanque cried, " I'd like to see Mr Hicks take us back ! 
 We mean to have a scamper on the sands, Sheik, and 
 neither Mr Hicks nor you will stop us. You can tell 
 Fatima, and Zuleika, and Nour Mahal all about our 
 wilfulness next time you write." 
 
 " Oh," said the Sheik, as he held his feet carefully 
 out of the water, "Fatirua, and Zuleika, and Nour 
 Mahal would have the better of you here. They 
 wouldn't want side-saddles. You remember what I 
 told you about my astonishment at the ladies who 
 rode so airily in the park." 
 
 "I remember nothing," replied Mrs Fonblanque. 
 " But I mean to go, side-saddles or no side-saddles." 
 
 " In that case," said the Sheik, " you will find them 
 quite as much side-saddles as anything else. It 
 depends how you sit. If you insist on going, sit as 
 you like, take plenty of wraps, and follow me, and I 
 will try and turn the crowd." 
 
 It spite of the surf that kept our boat bobbing up 
 and down, we managed, with the help of many rugs, 
 to seat the ladies on their saddles at last ; and so long 
 as their donkeys were led by the mane through the
 
 266 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 water, all went well. But once on dry land, we found 
 that our donkeys had no bridles. The crowd shouted 
 and yelled. The donkey-boys hit out behind. The 
 donkeys tore on madly through the town. 
 
 Before long we discovered, however, that there was 
 a big semicircular wooden handle in front of each 
 saddle, and we all instinctively clung on to that. 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! " cried the Sheik, when we caught him 
 up ; " who taught you the trick ? That's it. Pull first 
 to one side of the handle, then to the other, just as you 
 want to go. That's the Bahrein bit." 
 
 " Mr Hicks," said Mrs Fonblanque aside to me, as 
 our panting donkeys began at last to walk, "I hope 
 your sensitive feelings are properly avenged. It must 
 delight you immensely to have mounted two helpless 
 women on two fiendish beasts like these, and to have 
 started them off without bridles, or even decent 
 saddles, on a tearing race through Arabia. We 
 should have been killed or lost if the Sheik had not 
 wheeled round and stopped us. As it is, Sister 
 Patricia says she must faint." 
 
 " I thought so then," exclaimed the Nun timidly, 
 " and I couldn't help thinking so. Every time the 
 boy thumped the donkey, the donkey almost grazed 
 the corner of a wall or a house ; and how frightened 
 the people in the bazaar were ! It is dreadful to find 
 suddenly that you are riding a race through a crowd,
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 267 
 
 and that your groom has forgotten to have the bridle 
 put on. One feels like Mazeppa." 
 
 " So one does, clear/' answered Mrs Fonblanque ; 
 " like Mazeppa without being tied on. But what are 
 we to do, now that our donkeys are so amiable as to 
 stand at ease while we discuss the question ? " 
 
 " I have often been here before, Madam Fonblanque," 
 observed the Sheik. " There is really only one thing 
 to do in Bahrein, when you are lucky enough to get 
 out of it ; that is — to go to the wells and taste the 
 water." 
 
 A pretty amusement, thought I to myself, as I 
 imagined what my uncle would have said about this 
 queer idea of a day's outing. 
 
 But still the reservoir and the domed aqueducts, 
 dating back to the days of Portuguese glory in the 
 East, were worth looking at. I made a rough sketch 
 of them and the grass-covered mosque close by, while 
 the others professed to taste the water, which they 
 pronounced to be sweet and warm, 
 
 Bahrein is a big island, seventy or eighty miles 
 round, and so close to the Arabian coast that all the 
 water, which bubbles up wherever a well is dug, comes 
 straight from the hills on the mainland. 
 
 " Yes," said the Sheik, when I addressed him on the 
 subject, " fresh water bubbles up everywhere, even at 
 the bottom of the sea. Many of the ships and dhows
 
 268 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 here— and the bay is always full of quaint outlandish 
 craft — are watered by simply sending down pearl- 
 divers with mussocks in their hands. They find a 
 bubbling spring at the depth of two or three fathoms. 
 They fill their mussocks, tie the necks up, come to the 
 surface again, and there you are." 
 
 " But surely the water is salt," I suggested. 
 
 " No," replied the Sheik ; " it is said to be excessively 
 sweet, like the water here." 
 
 " I don't think you tasted it." 
 
 " Certainly not," he answered, slowly. " I am a 
 sherbet-drinker myself. I like my water boiled, with 
 something in it. But to the vegetable world water is 
 a great boon. Bahrein could be made into a fertile 
 garden in six months. There is water everywhere. 
 If the people chose, they could convert their island 
 into a perfect paradise. And Bahrein, even as we see 
 it, is the only green oasis in the Persian Gulf. Scratch 
 the ground anywhere, and you get water ; put in a few 
 cuttings, and you get a stately grove of palm-trees." 
 
 " Happy, happy people ! " said Mrs Fonblanque, 
 checking her donkey severely, as he tried very adroitly 
 to deposit her in one of the smaller pools. 
 
 " Well, I don't know that," replied the Sheik, gravely. 
 " Fatima would like them, for nowhere else are the 
 women so religiously and carefully veiled. There is 
 nothing coquettish about the women here. Their blue
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 269 
 
 veils are simply impenetrable. But this is a veneer. 
 They all of them, men and women too, have a strain 
 of fiery blood from the pirate coast ; and that, I fancy, 
 makes them rather restless and unsettled. Whenever 
 I come to Bahrein, I look upon the people here as 
 what you call at home ' a bad lot.' They were worse 
 than ever this morning, and I really cannot think how 
 we are to get you two ladies back again to the ship. 
 Why did you bring them here, Mr Hicks ? " 
 
 " It is very pleasant here," I answered. " The 
 country, as you say, is green and fertile. Water 
 bubbles up everywhere. I have my sketch-book. Let 
 us rest awhile. If the pirate spirit becomes too 
 obvious, we will ask Mrs Fonblanque to exorcise it ; 
 and in the meantime, I would suggest that she should 
 dismount from her donkey before he has her in the 
 water." 
 
 "Oh," said Mrs Fonblanque, after another frantic 
 struggle, " what a dreadfully vindictive man you are ! 
 Xow I have mastered him. And now, Mr Hicks, I 
 may remind you that I didn't come ashore to drink 
 water or take a bath. I want a ride, and here goes." 
 
 We heard the flick of the stick that the donkey- boy 
 had just cut for her from the thicket, and then she 
 disappeared behind the rising ground in front. 
 
 " Inshallah," cried the Sheik. " I have seen Fatima 
 and Zuleika and Xour Mahal do much the same.
 
 270 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 They had their little fits of temper ; but they always 
 came back. Mrs Fonblanque will come back too, if 
 you only leave her alone ; and if you allow me, I will 
 ride on to the town and send your boat round here. 
 In this way you will escape being mobbed." 
 
 With another and a louder flick, the Sheik dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " I am sorry for you," I said to the Nun. 
 
 " No, no," she answered. " You should be sorry for 
 Mrs Fonblanque. You really shouldn't tease her so. 
 I don't like the way my donkey fidgets ; but we must 
 gallop off as fast as we can, and see that none of the 
 pirates catch her." 
 
 " They wouldn't care to keep her long," I retorted. 
 
 Then, as I stubbornly declined to stir, the Nun and 
 I both alighted, and giving our donkeys to the boys in 
 charge, we sat down close together in the narrow slip 
 of shadow cast by one of the mosque walls, and talked 
 Mrs Fonblanque over and over. We used her as a 
 standard with which to measure ourselves. The Nun 
 said she only came up to Mrs Fonblanque's shoulders. 
 I refused to audit this account. We had a little fight 
 over it, and so we wandered farther afield. She told 
 me that she had not been able to confess for a fort- 
 night ; and then, for want of anybody better, she 
 seemed to be glad to give me a confidential insight 
 into all her innocent iniquities of the last two weeks.
 
 LADY BLUEBEAED. 271 
 
 "VVliat a good unselfish little creature she was ! She 
 had two thoughts — only two. She was a nun; and 
 she had loved somebody very dearly. She did not tell 
 me this, of course, but I knew enough to guess what 
 was in her mind. 
 
 " Three years," she said at last, " is a long time, Mr 
 Hicks ; do you remember what you thought or said 
 three years ago ? " 
 
 11 Do you mean on really important occasions ? " 
 
 " I think so," she answered ; " on occasions that were 
 really important, though they, perhaps, looked trivial at 
 the time." 
 
 " Yes," I said, though my conscience was not alto- 
 gether easy — " yes, I fancy I should remember." 
 
 "I was sure of that from the way you talked of 
 little Edith. But would you feel bound to do what 
 you said ? " 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " But if you did not say it in so many words, Mr 
 Hicks ; if you only meant it ? " 
 
 " That," I replied promptly, " would make no differ- 
 ence, if I showed that I meant it." 
 
 " Ah ! But who is to judge ? " 
 
 There was a look of intense yearning for sympathy 
 in her face just then, and I answered it at once. 
 
 " Let me try to judge. Tell me as little as you like ; 
 but tell me a little more."
 
 272 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " No, no, I can't," she said, very shyly — " I can't do 
 that. You will think me very silly for a nun, Mr 
 Hicks ; but sometimes we have to hear very painful 
 stories, and then we wonder what they mean. I am 
 only thinking of a story like that. Do people who 
 love each other know that they love each other with- 
 out actually talking about it aloud ? " 
 
 " Most assuredly they do," I replied. " Their instinct 
 is absolutely certain there. ~No man ever loved a girl 
 yet without her knowing it, and when a girl loves him, 
 a man has always strong suspicions. He " 
 
 "Why, my dear, what a lovely colour you have 
 now ! " cried Mrs Fonblanque, as she suddenly rode up 
 to us. Her donkey was panting violently, and covered 
 with foam. 
 
 "I have had a most delightful round," she cried, 
 " and I should like a long rest now in the shade of 
 that old wall. But there's that irrepressible old Sheik 
 getting out of a boat at the point." 
 
 There was no time for further explanations. The 
 Sheik gathered us under his wing and walked us off. 
 When we reached the ship, we found Priscilla perfectly 
 frantic. She had gone ashore with Mrs Fonblanque's 
 curiosity man. She had been pulled off her donkey. 
 Her veil had been rent by the mob, and she had been 
 most cruelly reviled by the crowd for not having a 
 white face.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 273 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque, so she sent us word, was too busy 
 in sorting Priscilla's spoils to appear again, and I had 
 to fall back for conversation on my old friend the 
 Quartermaster, who now told me that, though not an 
 artist or a literary man, he had decided inclinations in 
 both those directions, and that he was the happy 
 possessor of a scrap-book of extracts that gave him a 
 literary and artistic reputation on board every ship he 
 sailed in. 
 
 vol. I.
 
 274 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 The Sheik and myself might possibly have had a time- 
 honoured sort of interest in our own reminiscences, 
 but I cannot imagine what could have induced Mrs 
 Fonblanque to encourage us as she did, or why she 
 and I were sitting close together before breakfast, 
 right over the screw, as Captain Forbes was taking 
 us into Linga. 
 
 The Sheik sauntered up once or twice, and was so 
 successfully repulsed that he finally sank into a long 
 chair beside the Xun. 
 
 Then Mrs Fonblanque opened the campaign. 
 
 " I have never, ^s you know, been in England, Mr 
 Hicks," she began, " and for that reason I could not 
 perhaps appreciate all the points of your personal 
 history so thoroughly as that wonderful man the 
 Sheik did. But I liked what you said about the 
 world spinning on and on — just as it spun before 
 you were worried ; and now you really might tell me 
 what happened afterwards."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 275 
 
 Just then the Sheik and the Nun both looked up. 
 They were evidently talking of us, and were very likely 
 laughing at me. My uncle, however, had provided me 
 with a specific against self-consciousness at unseason- 
 able moments. I lit a cigarette. 
 
 " I am of course only a type," I said. " But most 
 young men, when they have been maltreated and feel 
 disappointed, look upon all young women as their 
 natural enemies. I know I did; and for a time I 
 was terribly vindictive." 
 
 " And you were dangerous ? " said Mrs Fonblanque, 
 showing more interest in my experiences than I had 
 expected. 
 
 "You may take that as you like," I answered. 
 " I don't know how to put it. No boy's experiences, 
 when he is smarting under his first defeat, can be pro- 
 perly told in plain English." 
 
 " Is that so ? " she said, glancing round at the Nun 
 before she continued. " Is that so ? Well, to be 
 frank, I suspected you would say something like 
 that, from what I have read in my French novels. 
 But you need not tell me your experiences in plain 
 English, Mr Hicks. Tell them in French; only, 
 whatever you do, don't tell them improperly." 
 
 " I really can't tell them in French," I replied. " I 
 am rather shaky in the irregular verbs, and surely it is 
 not necessary to tell them at all."
 
 276 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 " No ; perhaps not. Silence is golden, and discre- 
 tion the better part of valour. Isn't that so ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," I retorted, briskly. " But disap- 
 pointments of this kind, whether you are talkative 
 or not, are as bitter, and very likely as wholesome, as 
 a tonic. You make wry faces over them at the time, 
 though they do you a world of good afterwards. But 
 at the time you want a lump of sugar to take the taste 
 out of your mouth — and you get it. The bitter and 
 the sweet, the sweet and the bitter — which is which ? 
 Who knows ? " 
 
 " A woman would know at once," said Mrs Fon- 
 blanque. 
 
 " Not she," I answered. " A woman wouldn't even 
 know what I mean. But as men grow older, the 
 morning - tide of life looks very pleasant to them ; 
 and the older they are, the more they talk about 
 their early experiences, and the more they regret 
 them." 
 
 " Don't be cynical, Mr Hicks," said Mrs Fonblanque. 
 " I am, you know, older in reality than you are. At all 
 events I feel so, and I think in that way." 
 
 " Of course," I answered, " you may pretend to feel 
 older. But you and the Nun both said that women 
 never had any experiences. With men it is, I assure 
 you, different ; and no man ever quite forgets the early 
 days of his apprenticeship to life."
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 277 
 
 " "Why ? " said Mrs Fonblanque, slowly fanning 
 herself, " why should you have experiences denied to 
 us ? Isn't that unfair ? " 
 
 " Perhaps it is, but certainly not unfair to you. 
 Look at my uncle, the type of everything I hold as 
 genuine and respectable. But even my uncle, when 
 the tablecloth is removed, almost always says that 
 he should never have known which the happiest 
 day of his life was if he had not been obliged to 
 pledge his watch for it. You know nothing about 
 experiences, Mrs Fonblanque. But when one is 
 young and impecunious, and brimful of faith and 
 enthusiasm and disappointments ; when one is heart- 
 broken, and fond of poetry, and all that, — how kind 
 and gentle all the women are ! " 
 
 " Indeed," said Mrs Fonblanque, " kinder than now ? " 
 
 " Forgive me ! " I cried. " I didn't mean women of 
 your class, or women that you could talk to, or re- 
 cognise, or speak about ; but all you fine ladies with 
 your grave airs and gentle graces, your full purses and 
 empty hearts, are the real cause of their existence." 
 
 " For shame, Mr Hicks ! Stop." 
 
 " One moment, please. You owe them a debt of 
 gratitude. They are your scapegoats, poor souls, as you 
 come out, fresh and smiling and gorgeous, like rare 
 exotics, from your hot - houses and conservatories. 
 We tease you, and please you, and admire you, and
 
 278 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 how do you reply ? It is the ice-house, not the hot- 
 house, you have come from. But you are very vin- 
 dictive to the scapegoats; and, sooner or later, they 
 have to go out into the wilderness bearing your follies 
 with them." 
 
 "Mr Hicks," cried Mrs Fonblanque, indignantly 
 starting to her feet, and almost falling into the arms 
 of the Sheik's ill-favoured ally, who was trying to put 
 a big bag of pearls into her hands. " Oh, what lovely 
 pearls ! What do they want for them ? " 
 
 We were now at Linga, and, for a time at all events, 
 there was an end of humanitarian philosophy. 
 
 " I should like four or five dozen of these," said 
 Mrs Fonblanque thoughtfully, as she selected the 
 best-looking pearls. 
 
 The man explained that this, if not impossible, would 
 be very expensive. 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque looked keenly at him, and sent for 
 Priscilla, who came up attended, as usual, by her faith- 
 ful cavalier the Quartermaster ; and the bargain was 
 soon concluded. Then, some one having said that big 
 oyster-shells make capital dessert-plates when they are 
 mounted in dead-silver, she started Priscilla and the 
 man off in a small boat to look for mother-of-pearl 
 oyster-shells. Then she stood up triumphantly in the 
 middle of us, as we crowded round her to look at her 
 pearls.
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 279 
 
 " Do you know anything about pearls ? " she asked 
 me suddenly. 
 
 " Very little," I replied. " I remember something of 
 a translation of an old German students' song we used 
 to sin^ at Heidelberg — 
 
 o o 
 
 i A herring loved an oyster — 
 An oyster of the south — 
 And grew sick and thin with longing 
 For a kiss from her pearly mouth.' " 
 
 " And did he get it ? " 
 
 " Yes. But she bit his head off ! " 
 
 " Just like a woman, I suppose ? " asked Mrs 
 Fonblanque, laughing. " Is that all you know of 
 oysters ? " 
 
 " Ask the Quartermaster, Mrs Fonblanque," said the 
 Captain. " Fore and aft we all use him as an encyclo- 
 paedia. Bring up that wonderful scrap-book of yours, 
 Quartermaster, and give us a lesson in pearl-diving." 
 
 The Quartermaster was delighted; and so was Mrs 
 Fonblanque, for indirectly this was a lesson to me. I 
 was not allowed to do the showman's business. Any- 
 body else, even a Quartermaster, might be as tedious 
 as he liked. 
 
 The " banks of pearl " that " fade in the moonlight 
 beauteously " did not fit very readily into the Quarter- 
 master's rugged prose ; and, judging from what he said,
 
 280 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 there cannot be much poetry about pearl-diving. The 
 men, poor wretches, stuff their ears and noses with 
 wax, and work on from April to October. They spend 
 half their lives under water, fasting fourteen hours out 
 of the four-and-twenty, and only come up for a breath 
 of air, blowing like porpoises, once in every two 
 minutes. 
 
 " Not a bad way either of spending their time," 
 observed the Sheik, " considering the climate and the 
 heat on shore at that time of year." 
 
 " There are thousands of boats on the pearl-banks 
 then," said the Quartermaster, in a much louder voice 
 than the Sheik's. " The large boats have one master, 
 fourteen divers, and fourteen ordinary sailors. Every 
 boat pays a tax of two gold tomans to the Sheik of 
 Linga — an Arab tributary to the Persian Shah. The 
 sailors get their wages only ; the skippers, who find or 
 borrow the working capital, have four shares in the 
 season's venture, and the divers two between them. 
 The best pearls are found in the deepest waters " 
 
 " That, I think, is always so," said the Nun. 
 
 " Indeed, miss," resumed the Quartermaster, rather 
 nettled at her gentle interruption, "it is only the case 
 in the Persian Gulf. Here the best pearls incline to 
 yellow in colour. In the Ceylon waters they incline 
 to a brilliant white. I am an ignorant man myself ; 
 but I have my authorities handy. ' In the Indies and
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 281 
 
 Muscovy,' " he continued, as he read out of his huge 
 square scrap-book in tones that reminded me suddenly 
 of our old church clerk, when Edith and I were chil- 
 dren — " ' in the Indies and Muscovy they like better 
 to see the water of a yellow cast than white, because 
 they say that those pearls in which the water is a 
 little tinged like gold always retain their brightness, 
 and never alter, while those that are white seldom last 
 longer than thirty years without, when, owing as well 
 to the warmth of the country as the heat of the body, 
 they take a dull yellow colour.' " 
 
 " That's rather a queer fact in natural history, Quar- 
 termaster," I ventured to observe, as he panted for 
 want of breath. 
 
 " Yes, it is," replied the Quartermaster ; " but there 
 are a lot of queer facts and queer stories about pre- 
 cious stones. Look here, ma'am," he added, turning 
 over the pages of his great scrap-book. " The pearl is 
 an excellent tonic. Cleopatra's pearl, the finest of its 
 class on record, was found in these waters." Then 
 turning most civilly and politely to the Nun, he added 
 in quite another voice altogether, " The pearl has 
 always been regarded, miss, as the emblem of virgin 
 modesty. But, Lord ! what stories all the famous 
 stones could tell you ! What bloody murders they 
 have prompted ! what centuries of treachery there are 
 about them ! what bribes they are ! Now they glisten
 
 282 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 and glitter boldly on some young female's lovely neck, 
 and she blushes, not altogether with pleasure, when 
 they are admired ; now they are hidden in a casket, 
 and can only be seen and handled when her boudoir- 
 doors are shut ; and then they deck some painted har- 
 ridan on the stage." 
 
 " You really ought to have been a clergyman, Quar- 
 termaster," said Mrs Fonblanque, smiling. 
 
 "Not a clergyman, ma'am, but a lawyer — a sea- 
 lawyer, saving the Captain's presence. That's what 
 they all call me, when they make me turn my log 
 over to amuse them down below. But ' dumb jewels,' 
 ma'am, as Shakespeare says, ' often in their silent kind 
 more than quick words do move a woman's mind.' 
 And you, I understand, have just bought five dozen of 
 them. I have some jewel stories down in this book of 
 mine that will make your hair stand on end, and Mr 
 Hicks's too." 
 
 " Never mind them now, Quartermaster," said Mrs 
 Fonblanque. " Don't frighten us. Mr Hicks doesn't 
 like being frightened. Give us facts." 
 
 "So I will, ma'am. Here, to start with, is fact 
 number one, about the way diamonds breed. A 
 passenger let me copy it out of a dog-eared book he 
 called Mancleville's ' Travels.' He seems to have got 
 a little mixed up, something in the way of my scrap- 
 book, between pearls and diamonds. But here he
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 283 
 
 is speaking of diamonds. This is what he says : ' They 
 grow many together, one little, another great; and 
 there are some of the greatness of a bean, and some 
 as great as a hazel-nut. They are square and pointed 
 of their own kind, both above and beneath, without 
 work of man's hand; and they grow together, male 
 and female ' " 
 
 "How many wives have they, Sheik, I wonder?" 
 asked Mrs Fonblanque. 
 
 " Hush, Mrs Fonblanque ! " I said, waving to the 
 Quartermaster to go on. 
 
 " ' They are nourished/ " he continued in a deep bass 
 voice, " ' by the dew of heaven ; and they engender 
 commonly, and bring forth small children, that mul- 
 tiply and grow all the year. I have oftentimes tried 
 the experiment, that if a man keep them with a little 
 of the rock, and wet them with May-dew often, they 
 shall grow every year, and the small will grow great ; 
 for right as the fair pearl conceals and grows great by 
 the dew of heaven, right so doth the true diamond ; 
 and right as the pearl of his own nature takes round- 
 ness, so the diamond, by virtue of God, takes square- 
 ness.' " 
 
 " Well, I'm blest ! " cried the skipper. " You are 
 getting your innings, Quartermaster, and no mistake ! " 
 
 " Is there nothing more about the little diamonds ? " 
 asked the Nun.
 
 284 LADY BLUEBEAED. 
 
 " Pages and pages, miss," lie answered. " I'll go on 
 to the end now. ' The diamond loses its virtue by sin 
 and for incontinence of him who bears it, and if any 
 cursed witch or enchanter would bewitch him that 
 bears the diamond, all the sorrow and mischance shall 
 turn to the offender, through virtue of that stone ; and 
 also no wild beast dares assail the man who bears 
 it on him. It heals him that is lunatic, and those 
 whom the fiend pursues or torments.' " 
 
 " Send these pearls to Polly," said Mrs Fonblanque, 
 interrupting him with three or four large pearls. 
 " Don't be frightened — they are not diamonds ; and 
 now let me have a look at the book." 
 
 While we were all of us (even including the Sheik 
 and the Nun) laughing at the Quartermaster's solem- 
 nity, Captain Forbes gave us a few more facts about 
 pearl-diving. The harvest of the sea in the Gulf 
 used, he said, to be worth half a million sterling 
 annually. But the character of the pearls had been 
 damaged of late by the excessive import of false pearls 
 from Birmingham. He took up as many as he brought 
 down, and the Persians were said to prefer the false 
 stones. 
 
 " The divers," continued the Captain, " are a hard- 
 worked, ill-paid lot. Their owners, as you have heard, 
 stuff their ears and noses full of wax when they send 
 them under water, and here their obligations seem to
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 285 
 
 end. There are two or three English waifs and strays 
 among them, one of whom says he is an old Oxford 
 man. He is drunk for six months of the year, but as 
 sober as a judge in the pearl season. The natives 
 don't mind the competition of the Europeans; there 
 are so few of them, you see. But they won't stand 
 European inventions and machines. An American 
 from Bombay tried to introduce diving-bells and pro- 
 perly equipped divers a few years back, bat the gear 
 was all smashed up on the evening after it was tried, 
 and the men themselves were considerably mauled/' 
 
 " How wicked and how stupid ! " cried the Nun, 
 " when the poor divers might have gone down com- 
 fortably without wax in their ears and noses. Who 
 was it did this ? " 
 
 " The pearl-divers' wives," replied the Captain, " and 
 they did it most completely. But the pearl-divers 
 don't have the worst of it, Mrs Fonblanque. The 
 experts in India suffer far more than they do; for 
 judging pearls brings on blindness sooner or later. 
 The way in which the pearls are sold before they 
 reach India is also rather queer. They are sold by 
 weight in packets worth thirty or forty thousand 
 rupees each. Sometimes the shells are sold unopened 
 by the thousand ; and, in the case of very big and fine 
 pearls, they are sold on the open shell. You see the 
 outer half of the stone. If the inside portion is equally
 
 286 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 good it may be a pearl beyond price. But you must 
 buy it like a pig in a poke, and you must be sure that 
 the other side has not been looked at first." 
 
 " Surely there is something wrong there," said the 
 Nun. 
 
 " It is all wrong," replied the skipper. " It must be 
 wrong, when we get the same jewel-freight for carry- 
 ing false pearls up to Linga as we get for bringing real 
 pearls down." 
 
 Just then Mrs Fonblanque waved a bundle of 
 manuscripts at us. " Eureka ! " she cried. " Where 
 did you get this from, Quartermaster ? The writing 
 seems to be quite fresh." 
 
 " Oh, bless my soul ! " replied the Quartermaster, 
 "it blew my way when the passenger we left at 
 Bushire was emptying his writing-desk into the sea. 
 I thought it too good for such a big waste-paper 
 basket, as he called the sea, and I stuck it into my 
 book, meaning to give it back to him when he was 
 sober. But he never was sober, and so I forgot all 
 about it." 
 
 " I suspect you are a collector, Mr Quartermaster," 
 said Mrs Fonblanque, looking up. " A collector never 
 gives back anything that blows his way. He ought 
 to, of course ; but there is, I know, a fascination about 
 collecting anything, butterflies, postage-stamps, crests, 
 or even rupees. One becomes a miser in one's own
 
 LADY BLUEBEARD. 287 
 
 line. I remember a young chaplain urging me to 
 become a collector, j It is/ he said, ' at once a dis- 
 cipline and an amusement. Every Englishwoman in 
 India ought to collect something, were it only to kill 
 the tedium of the long, long Indian day.' He was a 
 sententious young griffin, but he was right; and I 
 have been a collector ever since." 
 
 "And what," asked I, "have you collected, Mrs 
 Eonblanque ? " 
 
 " Eeminiscences," she answered, with a gentle sigh. 
 
 " Eeminiscences ! Why, you said women never had 
 any." 
 
 " Oh, dear me, Mr Hicks, how literal we are now ! 
 And how ignorant we are too ! A woman says what 
 she likes, and does what she can. But she always 
 remembers. Didn't you learn that lesson from Fatima 
 and Zuleika and Nour Mahal, and the rest of them, 
 Sheik?" 
 
 " Yes," said the Sheik, stroking his beard. " They 
 remember when they like, and they never forget. But 
 how about the paper in your hand, madam ? I thought 
 by the way you held it that you were going to read it 
 out aloud to us." 
 
 "Well/' she replied, "I don't mind if I do. I own 
 I enjoy reading aloud, just as I enjoy singing. But 
 you have to know what you sing before you sing it. 
 In reading you are often as much surprised as your
 
 288 LADY BLUEBEARD. 
 
 audience. This manuscript of the man with too many 
 experiences struck me as opening in an original 
 fashion, and it is not very long. This is what he 
 
 says : " 
 
 Mrs Fonblanque read as well as she sang, and the 
 way in which she put the capital letters vocally, 
 would have astounded a professor of elocution. But 
 the manuscript, though it does not deserve it, requires 
 another chapter. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.