Through The Medium Of Mahomet I Explained To Her That She Was No Longer
A Slave, As I Had Purchased
Her freedom; that she would not even be
compelled to remain with us, but she could do as she thought
Proper;
that both her mistress and I should be exceedingly kind to her, and we
would subsequently find her a good situation in Cairo; in the mean time
she would receive good clothes and wages. This, Mahomet, much against
his will, was obliged to translate literally. The effect was magical;
the woman, who had looked frightened and unhappy, suddenly beamed with
smiles, and without any warning she ran toward me, and in an instant I
found myself embraced in her loving arms. She pressed me to her bosom,
and smothered me with castor-oily kisses, while her greasy ringlets hung
upon my face and neck. How long this entertainment would have lasted I
cannot tell, but I was obliged to cry "Caffa! Caffa!" (enough! enough!)
as it looked improper, and the perfumery was too rich. Fortunately my
wife was present, but she did not appear to enjoy it more than I did. My
snow-white blouse was soiled and greasy, and for the rest of the day I
was a disagreeable compound of smells - castor oil, tallow, musk,
sandal-wood, burnt shells, and Barrake.
Mahomet and Barrake herself, I believe, were the only people who really
enjoyed this little event. "Ha!" Mahomet exclaimed, "this is your own
fault! You insisted upon speaking kindly, and telling her that she is
not a slave; now she thinks that she is one of your WIVES!" This was the
real fact; the unfortunate ** Barrake ** had deceived herself.
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