The Pirate City: An Algerine Tale. Robert Michael Ballantyne
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the door, the interpreter led them through a narrow passage, which terminated in the usual square court of Moorish houses. This was very small, and, like all such courts, had no roof, so that a pleasant gleam of sunshine flickered through the creepers which twined up its pillars and gleamed on the drops that fell from a tinkling fountain in the centre.
Entering an open doorway on the right of the court, the interpreter led the way up a flight of marble steps to the second storey of the house. A small gallery, such as one sees in public libraries in England, ran round the four sides of the building over the balustrade, of which one could look down on the leafy court with its ever singing jet d’eau. The windows of the several private, apartments opened upon this gallery.
In the centre of one side of the square was a large open doorway, in the form of a Moorish arch, by which entrance was obtained into a little extremely ornate apartment. The dome-shaped roof of this boudoir was lighted by four little holes filled with stained-glass, and the walls were covered with beautifully painted tiles. Rich ornaments of various Eastern and fanciful kinds were strewn about, and valuable Persian rugs covered the marble floor.
On an ottoman, in the centre of all, sat Rais Ali’s bride, cross-legged, and on a cushion before her lay the cat, her only companion.
She was clothed in garments of the richest description, which glittered with gold embroidery and jewels. Seated thus, stroking the cat, and with a self-satisfied smile on her fat pretty face, she seemed the very personification of contentment. Her soft brown neck was almost hidden with rows of pearls, and long rows of the same jewels depended from the high filigree cap which towered above her head. Her dress consisted of three open jackets or short caftans, one above the other, without sleeves. These were profusely garnished with gold lace, and fastened only at the waist. White linen trousers or drawers covered her limbs to the ankles, but these were so immensely wide as to bear more resemblance to female drapery than to the masculine appendages which their name suggests. A silken, gold-striped shawl was fastened by two corners round her waist, and hung down in front like an apron. Sleeves of fine embroidered muslin and of great width covered her arms. Her little feet and ankles were bare, but the latter were ornamented with several thick gold leglets. In each ear she wore five large round ear-rings, two of these fitting into two holes in the lower, and three into the upper part of the ear. One awkward result of this was that the upper ear-rings pulled the ears down, and made them pendent like those of a poodle!
The visitors having been introduced, Madam Rais Ali received them with a good-humoured stare, but said nothing. Mrs Langley then tried to engage her in conversation, but Mrs Ali continued to stare and smile without speaking, for the good reason that she understood neither French nor English. Requesting Ali to interpret, Mrs Langley then put one or two questions. The bride turned her large dark eyes on her husband while he was speaking, and then, instead of replying, turned them on her visitors and laughed. Whereupon little Agnes, unable to control herself, also laughed; this unhinged Mrs Langley, who laughed likewise, and Rais Ali followed suit from sympathy.
After this satisfactory ebullition, Mrs Langley again essayed to induce conversation, but beyond yes, no, and a laugh, she could draw forth nothing whatever from the bride, whose mind, in regard to all things terrestrial, with the exception of household affairs, was a perfect blank. Mohammedan females are treated by their lords like babies. They receive no education worthy of the name, and are therefore apt to be childish in their ideas.
After one or two fruitless attempts, the visitors took leave of the happy bride, who was thereupon locked up again by her jealous husband, and left to her own resources and the cat.
Returning to the place where their steeds had been left, the party re-mounted, and proceeded to the palace of the cadi.
This palace, being situated in one of the narrow lanes of the town, had a very undignified and dull exterior. Indeed, no one could have imagined it to be a palace, but for the spiral columns of marble and other rich and costly carving around the entrance. Inside, however, the aspect of things was more in keeping with the dignity of the owner.
The lady and her daughter were ushered into a little square hall, in which several guards were seated, cross-legged, on small stone seats or niches round the walls, smoking long pipes. Beyond this was the principal entrance-hall or antechamber of the palace. It was gorgeous in marble pillars, stucco designs, horse-shoe arches, and other Mooresque decorations. Here a large party of officials and friends were moving about. Beyond this, they came to the square court, which is the same in general arrangements, in all Moorish houses, though, of course, not in size or luxury of detail.
Here the cadi himself met his guests, and conducted them to the suite of chambers on the second storey, which were devoted to the ladies. At the principal entrance to these they were received by the cadi’s wife, and, with much display of friendliness and affection, were conducted into the harem—that mysterious retreat which, in a Mohammedan household, is never entered by mortal man, except the lord thereof.
It was Mrs Langley’s first visit to such a scene, and, although she had been prepared for something magnificent, the gorgeous nature of everything far surpassed her expectations. The rooms, indeed, were small, being, like those of all Moorish dwellings, rather long and narrow, with recesses or antechambers. Some of these latter had dome-shaped roofs, with little coloured glass skylights, such as we have already described, and were delightfully snug retreats. The walls and ceilings of all the apartments were profusely ornamented, and the hangings and furniture were of the richest material.
On a silken couch, at the farther end of one of these small apartments, sat the bride, Zara, youngest daughter of the cadi, and a lovely girl of nineteen. Poor Zara! Her history—not by any means an uncommon one in that land—goes to prove that Mohammedan women, far more than English, have need of a “Women’s Rights Society.”
Zara was already a widow with two beautiful children! Her first husband, to whom she had been married without her inclination being consulted, had been strangled.
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