The Cheyenne daily leader. [volume] (Cheyenne, Wyo.) 1870-1884, 1884-01-04
HAREM BEAUTY.
The Wife of Minister Wallace Tells OF
q Visit to NourmahaL
The Entertainment Within tbs Sui
tan's PaInce---Bitter Coffee and
Discordant Music - The
Seraglio Beauty


round the apartment No pictures on the
marble walls, no books, no bric-a-bac, no
''trumpery" collections, ceramics, aesthetic
trash, grave or gay, nor mufiing hangings.
These are not Oriental Injuries, but instead a
cool, shady emptiness, plenty of space for
the breeze to iutter the gauzy curtains and
carry the echo Of the plash and drip of the
fountains.
At the furthest end, and reclining on pill
lows of silk and lace, rested the lady we
sought. One little foot in a red velvet slip
per was first seen below white trousers of
yellow silk; a loose robe Of white silk, en-
broidered with gold thread, was perfectly
covered by a sleeveless jacket of crimson,
dotted with seed pearl; a broad, v~ariegated
sash wound the slender waist Half conceal
ing the arms was a Light scarf, airy as the
woven wind of the ancients. A ~headband,
with diamond pendants, fringed her fore
head, a REVERE of diamonds circled the bare
throat, and here and there solitary drops
flashed in the braids OF her night black hair.
Among the billowy cushions and vaporous
veilings rose the young face-oh, what a
revelation of beauty-uplifted in a curious
Questioning way, to see what manner of
women these are, who come from the ends of
the earth, with unveiled faces, and go about
the world alone, and have to think for them
selves-poor thingsi The expression was
that of a lovely child waking from summer
slumber in the happiest humcr, ready for
play. A sensitive, exquisite face, fair as the
first of women while the angel was yet un-
fallen. A perfect oval, the lips a scarlet
thread, aud oh, those wonderful Asiatic eyesi
-lustrous, coal black, long, rather round,
beaming under the Joined eyebrows of which
the poet Hafiz sings.
Nournahal did not rise, but held out one
jeweled hand, dimpled as Il baby's, with nails
and finger end, dyed pink with henna-hve
clustered rosebuds. The magic of beauty
made up her subjects. We kissed the little
fingers loyalty; and yielded ourselves willing
captives ready to be dragged at the chariot
wheels. My lifelong notions of the subjec-
ton of a woman (see Stuart Mill and the
Indebtedness of prisoners pining in palatial
splendors vanished at the first glance-went
down at a touch, like the wounded knight in
the lists of. Templestowe. She smiled and
hoped we were well; then followed suitable
inquiries as to health and journeys, and ex-
pressions of the charm of finding it all out. 1
ventured the high assertion that we had
sailed 5000 miles to lay our homage at her
blessed feet; which rhetorical flourish was re-
ceived with a childish nod at about what it
was worth. Somehow she did not seem so
enchanted with her new worshipers as they
were with her. 1t seemed the Beauty had
never seen the sea except from the shore.
At the signal the slaves disappeared, ex-
cept one old woman and the negroes, silent
as ghosts beside the Lahore drapery. In a
few minutes five slaves returned, each carry.
ing a small round table of cedar, inlaid with
scraps OF mother-of-pearL Five others fol
lowed with lighted cigarettes, lying each il
a silver saucer; and coffee in tiny cups,
about the size of a giants thimbls, resting IL
a silver hlagree holder, set round with dia,
monds.
my new friends have come so far,n said
Nourmahal, "they must be tired Take a
cigarette and refresh yourselves"
rather awkwardly adjusted the holder of
amber and ventpred one faint Whit. Imag.
inc my establishment at seeing my friend,
whose name with difficulty l suppress, puff
away like a dissipated old smoker. The Ar
menian was native and to the manner born.
Nourmahal smoked, of course, and a lulling
calm succeeded the excitement of the brill
liant conversation reported above. While
feeling around my brain for a subject of com
mon interest, adapted to my hostess capacity
and mine, 1 tried a sip Of the coffee. 1t was
strong enough to bear up an egg, thick with
grounds and bitter as death. / pretended to
deep enjoyment Of the dose, and slipped it
drop by drop, to the bitter end.
clapped her hands again and
the ten virgins took away the saucers. l
think none of them were foolish, for they fell
hiOo IA NibhOuL euOItJ edcu Oue LredllnX IN
the footsteps of her predecessor, at an inter
val to avoid her train.
I'm this charming palace you must be very
happy. How do you pass the timer
The dimples deepened in the cheeks of
Beauty.
Pass the time, pass the timer she dream
'ly repeated, playing with the knotted fringes
Of her scarf. lido not pass 1t, it passes itselfIn
and again she laughed, and the laughter was
as sweet as the tenderest voice can make it.
Are you fond Of musici'
Three ladies in black: ooh very" "OhI
very" "Ohl very"
Then you should be amused.n She clap
ped the rose-leaf palms, and in marched eight
women musicians 1--WE saw no men that day
but the harem guard, bearing stringed in
struments, curious-looking things, like over
grown violins and half finished guitars, and
a round shell, with strings across, beaten
with two sticks.
Didst ever hear Arabic music, beloved
NOT Then never hast thou known sorrow.
Since Jubal first struck the gamut, there
can be no Improvement in these compositions.
How long the exercises lasted l am unable to
record, but l do know we grew old fast under
the beat, beat, hammer, hammer, in the terse,
unmeaning notes OF the banjo. In the bright
interval at the end of a peculiarly agonizing
strain, sung by the mulatto, l seized the mo
ment to ask what were the words of the song.
and was told 1t is a serenade, very ancient,
dating back to the times of ignorance, before
the coming Of Mahomet, whose tomb is
covered with the splendor OF unceasing light
Good Enough Thing.