THE HAREM.

A fortnight after the events described in the previous chapter the war broke out which cost Napoleon III. his throne, and all the German residents in Paris were forced to take their departure at an exceedingly short notice. Among their number was Count Frederick von Waldberg, who, since the disappearance of Rose, had plunged into the wildest course of dissipation and debauchery, as if with the intention of drowning all memory of the past. The discovery of his wife's infamy had exercised a most disastrous effect on the young man's mind. It had rendered him thoroughly hardened and cynical, and had definitely banished forever any remnant of moral feeling or conscience, which he had until then retained. When he reflected on all the brilliant prospects and future which he had surrendered for Rose's sake, he grew sick at heart, and determined to put to good account the bitter experience which he had acquired. Never again would he allow himself to be softened and influenced by any affaire de coeur, but, on the contrary, women should become subservient to his interests. He would deal with them in the same relentless and cruel manner that Rose had dealt with him. The old life was dead and gone, and he made up his mind to start out on a new career unburdened by any such baggage as scruples or honor.

It was in this frame of mind that he embarked at Marseilles on board an English steamer bound for Alexandria. Being debarred from returning to Germany or Italy, and France having now closed her doors against him, he decided to leave Europe for a time and to try his luck in the Orient.

In due course he arrived at Cairo and took up his residence at Shepheard's well-known hostelry. He could not help being struck by the novelty of the scenes which met his eye on every side, and the ancient capital of Egypt, with its narrow, winding streets; its fierce sunlight and dark shadows, its palaces, gardens, and waving palm trees, appealed to all his artistic instincts.

One afternoon, as he was riding round Gezireh, his attention was attracted to a brougham drawn by two magnificent black horses which had pulled up under one of the grand old sycamore trees that shade the avenue, and near to the kiosk in the Khedival gardens, where a military band was rendering with more vigor than harmony several of the most popular airs from “La Grande Duchesse.” The only occupant of the carriage was a woman dressed in Turkish fashion, but whose “yashmak,” or vail, was of a transparency which enhanced rather than concealed her lovely features. The large, dark, and sensuous eyes which glanced at him between the tulle folds of the vail sent a thrill through his very heart, and he involuntarily checked his horse and stood gazing at the enchanting vision. At this moment a gigantic black eunuch, who was evidently in attendance on the lady and who had been standing on the off side of the carriage, suddenly became aware of the admiring looks cast by the young stranger on his mistress. He rushed up to the carriage window, with stifled oath pulled down the silken blind, and then, turning to the coachman, ordered him to drive on. He then mounted a magnificent barb which was being walked up and down by a gorgeously dressed “sais,” or groom, and galloped after the brougham, casting as he did so a look of such malignance at Frederick that the latter, taken by surprise, did not even retain enough presence of mind to make any attempt to follow the carriage.

For several days in succession Frederick made a point of spending his afternoons in riding round Gezireh in the hope of obtaining another glance at the beautiful Hanem; but she did not put in an appearance, and the young man had almost forgotten the incident, when one morning, while riding along the road which Khedive Ismail, with truly oriental gallantry, had caused to be constructed from Cairo out to the Pyramids for the use of Empress Eugenie, on the occasion of her visit in 1869, he suddenly caught sight of the black horses and brougham coming slowly toward him. There was no one else in view, and the ordinarily watchful eunuch had taken advantage of the solitude of the spot to relax his vigilance and to lag a good way behind. Frederick was therefore enabled to gaze unhindered at the Oriental beauty. He bowed low over his horse's mane, and was delighted to see that not only was his salutation graciously responded to, but that, moreover, the lady, raising one of her small jeweled hands to her “yashmak,” pulled it slightly aside so as to discover to his enraptured eyes a face so perfectly lovely that he was fairly staggered. She smiled enchantingly at him, and, putting the tips of her fingers to her rosy lips, motioned him away with a look full of promise. Frederick would fain have drawn nearer to the carriage, but the coachman suddenly started his horses off at a sharp trot, and there was nothing for him to do but to resume his canter out to the Pyramids and to receive with a smile the angry glances of his friend the eunuch, whom he passed shortly afterward.

Neither the Sphinx nor the Pyramids possessed much attraction for Frederick that day, and his stay out at Gezireh was but a short one. He was in a hurry to get back into town. He was perfectly wild with delight at the idea of his adventure. Who could the beautiful creature be? He had noticed a princess' coronet on the panels of the carriage, and the black horses and glittering liveries of the coachman, footman, and of the two grooms would lead to belief that they belonged to a member of the Khedival family. Moreover, the eunuch in attendance was certainly a person of high rank, a fact which was demonstrated by the ribbon of the Order of the “Osmanieh” which he wore in his button-hole.

Frederick was puzzled to know how all this would end. That the fair lady looked upon him with favor was undeniable.

But he knew enough about the strict rules of an oriental harem to doubt whether he would ever be able to meet her alone, as the eunuch had already noticed his admiration of the lady and would certainly warn his master, the Pasha. However, Frederick determined to go to the bitter end, no matter what the cost might be.

Two days later he was lounging on the terrace of the hotel, lazily watching the throng of Arabs, donkeys, and beggars jostling one another along the Esbekleh street, when his attention was suddenly attracted by a ragged individual, with a very black countenance and a basket of flowers, who was evidently trying to catch his eye. Frederick, leaning over the balustrade, was about to throw a few piasters to the man, when the latter suddenly broke loose from the crowd, and walking up the marble steps, “salaamed” to him in the most approved fashion; then squatting down on the ground in front of him, he extracted a bunch of flowers from his basket. Frederick was about to motion him away, when the man hurriedly thrust the roses into his hands, whispering in a low, guttural voice:

“Letter for you.”

He then “salaamed” again and, arising from the ground, began displaying his wares to some ladies who were sitting under the veranda. Frederick, whose thoughts immediately turned to the lady whom he had met two days before on the road to the Pyramids, repaired at once to his room and, cutting the thread which bound the flowers together, brought to view a small, square envelope without any address. Carefully opening it he extracted therefrom a highly perfumed sheet of pink paper on which the following words were written:

Frederick dropped the note to the floor in his surprise and delight. His wildest anticipations were surpassed, for in a few hours he would see his “houri” face to face.

At 11 o'clock that night he wandered up the long Mouski street, which at that hour looked weird and deserted. He took care to keep as much as possible in the more shadowy portions of the thoroughfare, so as not to attract the attention of the few Arabs who, wrapped in their spectral-looking “burnous,” were still to be met with here and there. After about an hour's walk he stopped at the end of the long street and looked about him. Nobody was in sight, and he was just thinking of retracing his steps when a hand was laid on his arm and a vailed woman, without uttering a word, placed a small bunch of lotus flowers in his hand. She then beckoned to him to follow her, saying in a low, musical voice:

“Taala hena” (come this way).

A few steps brought them to a high stone wall, in which a small kind of postern was pierced. Taking hold of his hand she led him under the archway, and, inserting a small key in the lock, she opened the door and pushed him into the garden.

Frederick, for a moment, believed that he had been suddenly transported into fairy-land. He found himself in an immense garden, where groups of feathery palms and dark sycamores made a fitting background for masses of brilliant flowers and shrubs in full bloom. The air was redolent with the perfume of thousands of orange trees and starry jessamine, while the high wall, which looked so bare and grim from without, was on the inside covered with blue passion-flowers and pink aristolochus. Numerous marble fountains sent their silvery jets of spray toward the dark-blue heavens, and a flock of red flamingoes stalked majestically up and down the long stretches of velvety lawn.

In the distance a white alabaster palace gleamed in the glorious Egyptian moonlight, which rendered the scene almost as bright as day; and its cupolas and minarets, all fretted and perforated, looked like some wonderful piece of old lacework.

Frederick followed his silent companion through a dense thicket of rose-bushes, where a narrow path had been cut. He noticed that she was very careful to keep away from the bright light of the moon and that she occasionally stopped to listen. After about ten minutes' walk they reached a side entrance of the palace. The woman, once more taking hold of his hand, led him up six or seven steps and into a narrow passage where a silver hanging-lamp shed a dim light on the tapestried walls. Turning suddenly to the left she lifted a large gold-embroidered drapery which hung before an archway and motioned him inside.

Frederick was in the harem of the famous Princess M.

Emerging from the comparative darkness of the gardens, Frederick was fairly dazzled by the brilliancy of the scene which met his eyes. He found himself in a lofty apartment, the walls of which were entirely covered with silver brocade. White velvet divans ran all around the room, and from the painted ceiling hung a rock-crystal chandelier, lighted by at least a hundred wax candles. Great masses of blooming camellias, azalias, and tuberoses were tastefully arranged in silver vases on tables of transparent jade. The floor was covered with a white velvet carpet richly embroidered with silver, and the windows were hung with fairy-like draperies of silver gauze and point lace.

At the farther end of the apartment was a kind of broad, oriental divan, and there, nestling among a pile of cushions, reclined the jewel of which all the splendors above described formed but the unworthy setting. Princess Louba, a little over twenty-two years of age at the time, was certainly one of the loveliest women of the day. Tall and exquisitely proportioned, her hands and feet were marvelously small and the rich contours of her figure were absolutely perfect. She had one of those dead white complexions, ever so delicately tinted with pink, which remind one of the petal of a tea-rose or the interior of a shell. Her large, languid black eyes were shaded by long and curly eyelashes, and her straight eyebrows almost met over a small, aquiline nose, the sensuous nostrils of which quivered at the slightest emotion. In piquant contrast to her dark eyes, her hair, of a pale golden color, hung down to below her knees. She was dressed in a long “djebba,” or loose robe of white crepe de chine, the semi-transparent folds of which clung to her form as the morning dew clings to a flower which it is loth to conceal.

For several minutes Frederick stood as if transfixed, unable to remove his fevered gaze from the lovely apparition which rendered him blind to all else. He could see nothing but the princess, as she lay there in all her indolent beauty.

The “Muezzin” droning forth his harmonious summons to prayers from the loftiest galleries of the minarets, had but just notified the faithful that it was two hours after midnight, when suddenly one of the curtains was softly drawn aside, and a woman scarcely less beautiful than the princess herself glided into the room.

Her largo violet eyes flashed triumphantly, and a mocking, cruel smile hovered around her red lips as she advanced toward the princess and her lover.

“Enfin! Louba Hanem!” exclaimed she, in French. “At length I have you in my power! Revenge always comes to those who can afford to wait! For months and months you have been the favorite of our lord, the pearl of surpassing value, beside whom all were but as dross, the treasure of his heart and the joy of his life, while I—I—was left far behind—hardly noticed—often repulsed—I, who am as beautiful as you, and who love him with a love of which you are utterly incapable! How often have I besought Allah to grant me my revenge! He has heard my prayer! for within the hour that is now passing away our lord will have slain both your lover and yourself! Even at this very moment you are being watched, and at a sign from me he will be summoned hither to behold with his own eyes the shameful manner in which you betray him with a dog of an unbeliever!”

Princess Louba had meanwhile started to her feet, and stood there in all her glorious beauty, white and trembling with rage and with terror.

“Who is it that will dare to raise his or her hand against me, the daughter of his highness! Who are you but a mere slave—a toy bought by our lord! The pastime of one short hour, thereafter to be flung back into the depths of ignominy from which you were raised by his hand! You shall suffer cruelly for your present insolence. I will cause you to be whipped until every particle of skin has been torn from your body.”

“Will you, indeed, Louba Hanem? I challenge you to try it. You will find that even your royal father will be powerless to save either your lover or yourself.”

With a snake-like motion of her supple body the vindictive creature glided to one of the windows opening out on to the veranda and was about to issue forth on her dangerous errand, when, with one bound, Frederick was alongside of her, and, grasping her firmly by the arm, exclaimed:

“What is it you want? Is it money? If so, you shall have it! If you will only be silent! Speak! What do you require?”

With a look of unutterable scorn, she replied:

“Keep your money. It is revenge that I seek! Your touch defiles me! Let me go, or it will be the worse for you! Are you then so anxious to die a few minutes sooner that you dare to tempt me thus?”

Tearing away her arm from Frederick's grasp, she drew a long stiletto or dagger from her bosom and made a violent lunge at his heart. Frederick, now thoroughly infuriated, and realizing the fact that he had to deal with a desperate and half-crazy woman, wrenched the knife from her and hurled it away among the shrubs in the garden. For one moment she struggled desperately to release herself, but seeing that it was of no avail and that the young man's slender hands held her like a vise, she uttered one loud cry for assistance, which rang through the silence of the night.

“Curse you, be quiet! you she-devil!” hissed Frederick in her ear. “If you utter another sound, I will kill you.”

Once more the girl attempted to scream, but Frederick's fingers clutched her throat like steel and stifled her voice. For the space of several seconds—they seemed to him so many hours—he maintained his grasp, and when at length he released his hold the slight body of the girl fell with a dull thud to the tessellated floor of the veranda. Instinctively he bent down over her, and suddenly, with a thrill of horror, realized that she was dead.

At the same moment he heard the sound of heavy steps hurrying to the spot where he was, and, forgetting everything except that his life was at stake, he leaped over the alabaster balustrade of the terrace, and fled through the gardens without looking behind him.

Oh, the agony of those minutes! The cold perspiration was streaming from his forehead, and his heart was beating so violently that it nearly took his breath away. In what direction was he to escape? The immense gardens seemed to constitute an interminable labyrinth of gravel paths, winding in and out of the clusters of trees and bushes. Twice he found himself at the foot of the high stone wall, which, however, offered no foothold by which he could ascend to the summit. At one moment he nearly fell into a small lake, which lay half-concealed, buried between moss-covered banks. Like a hunted animal, he was about to retrace his steps, when he saw in the distance a score or so of men, carrying torches, who were running in all directions, shouting loudly as they drew nigh to him. His desperation was such that he thought for one moment of giving himself up to them. But the instinct of self-preservation was too strong, and once more he sped along in the shadow of a tall hedge of arbutus, till suddenly he found his flight again arrested by the wall.

Stay! What was that? A door! Yes, the very door by which he had entered a few hours previously. Trembling from head to foot, he tried the lock. It yielded to his pressure, and with one wild, cat-like spring, he bounded into the dark street which led to the Mouski. Closing the massive oak postern after him, he rushed onward, casting terrified glances behind him from time to time as he ran. But all was still; and the noise of his footsteps was the only sound which disturbed the quiet hour of dawn. Gradually he slackened his speed, and, turning down into a dark side-street, cautiously threaded his way among the maze of narrow passages and by-ways of the Hebrew quarter. At last he arrived at the gate of the Esbekieh Gardens, and a few minutes afterward reached the Hotel Shepheard. Ten minutes later he was seated in his own room, hardly able to realize that he was, for the moment, at any rate, out of danger.

To remain at Cairo was out of the question. This last adventure was likely to involve more serious consequences than any of his previous scrapes. Seizing a time-table, he discovered, to his unspeakable relief, that a steamer bound for Bombay was leaving Suez the very same day. He hurriedly packed up his belongings, and, summoning the porter, informed him that he had been called away on matters of the utmost importance, and ordered his trunks to be conveyed without delay to the railway station.

That afternoon at four o'clock a majestic steamer of the Peninsular and Oriental Company weighed its anchor at Suez, and proceeded down the Red Sea. She carried among the passengers on board Count Frederick von Waldberg, who had been fortunate enough to escape arrest for the murder of M. Pasha's second wife.