Part 14 (1/2)

Here Yffim Beg growled something or other.

”Now that saucy damsel swinging herself to and fro on the shawl,”

continued the dealer, ”I got in China, where her parents abandoned her in a public place. She does not promise much at first sight, but touch her and you'll fancy you are in contact with warm velvet. I would let you have her, sir, for five hundred ducats, but I should charge anyone else as much again.”

Yffim Beg nodded approvingly.

”And now do you see that fair damsel who, with a gold comb, is combing out tresses more precious than gold; she came to me from the northern islands, from a s.h.i.+p which the Kapudan Pasha sent to the bottom of the sea. I don't ask you if you ever saw such rich fair tresses before, but I do ask you whether you ever saw before a mortal maid with such a blindingly fair face? When she blushes, it is just as if the dawn were touching her with rosy finger-tips.”

”Yes, but her face is painted,” said Yffim Beg suspiciously.

”Painted, sir!” exclaimed Haji Baba with dignity. ”Painted faces at my shop! Very well! come and convince yourself.”

And, tearing aside the muslin veil, he entered the apartment with Yffim Beg.

At the sight of the men a couple of the charming hoydens rushed shrieking behind the tapestries, and only after a time poked their inquisitive little heads through the folds of the curtains; but the Georgian beauty continued to dance; the Chinese damsel went on swinging more provocatively than ever; the beauty from the northern islands allowed her golden tresses to go on playing about her shoulders; a fresh, tawny gipsy-girl, in a variegated, elaborately fringed dress, with ribbons in her curly hair, stood right in front of the approaching Beg, eyed him carefully from top to toe, seized part of his silken caftan, and rubbed it between her fingers, as if she wanted to appraise its value to a penny; while a tiny little negro girl with gold bracelets round her hands and legs, fumigated the entering guest with ambergris, navely smiling at him all the time with eyes like pure enamel and lips as red as coral.

The robber-chapman was right, there was not one of these girls who felt ashamed. They looked at the purchaser with indifference and even complacency, and everyone of them tried to please him in the hope that he would take them where they would have lots of jewels and fine clothes, and slaves to wait on them.

Haji Baba led the Beg to the above-mentioned beauty, and raising the edge of her white garment and displaying her blus.h.i.+ng face, rubbed it hard, and when the main texture remained white, he turned triumphantly to the seller.

”Well, sir! I sell painted faces, do I? Do you suppose that every orthodox shah, emir, and khan would have any confidence in me if I did?

Will you not find in my garden those flowers which the Sultana Valideh presents to the greatest of Emperors on his birthday, and which in a week's time the Sultan gives in marriage to those of his favourite Pashas whom he delights to honour? Why, I don't keep Hindu bayaderes simply because they stain their teeth with betel-root and orange yellow, and gild their eyebrows; accursed be he who would improve upon what Allah created perfect! The black girl is lovely because she is black, the Greek because she is brown, the Pole because she is pale, and the Wallach because she is ruddy; there are some who like blonde, and some who like dark tresses; and fire dwells in blue eyes as well as in black; and G.o.d has created everything that man may rejoice therein.”

While the worthy man-filcher was thus pouring himself forth so enthusiastically, Yffim Beg, with a very grave face, was gazing round the apartment, drawing aside every curtain and gazing grimly at the dwellers behind them, who, clad in rich oriental garments, were reclining on divans, sucking sugar-plums and singing songs.

Haji Baba was at his back the whole time, and had so much to say of the qualifications of every damsel they beheld, that the Turkish gentleman must have been sorely perplexed which of them to choose.

He had got right to the end of the apartment, when unexpectedly peeping into the remotest corner, he beheld a damsel who seemed to be entirely different from all the rest. She was wrapped in a simple white wadding-like garment, only her head was visible; and when the Beg turned towards her, both his eyes and his mouth opened wide, and he stood rooted to the spot before her.

It was the face of the Queen in the Kingdom of Beauty. Never had he seen such a look, such burning, glistening, flas.h.i.+ng eyes as hers! The proud, free temples, beneath which two pa.s.sionate eyebrows sparkled like rainbows, even without a diadem dispensed majesty. At the first glance she seemed as savage as Diana surprised in her bath, at the next she was as timorous as the flying Daphne; gradually a tender smile transformed her features, she looked in front of her with a dazed expression like betrayed Sappho gazing at the expanse of ocean in which she would fain extinguish her burning love.

”Chapman!” cried the Beg, scarce able to contain himself for astonishment, ”would you deceive me by hiding away from me a houri stolen from heaven?”

”I a.s.sure you, sir,” said the chapman, with a look of terror, ”that it were better for you if you turned away and thought of her no more.”

”Haji Baba, beware! if perchance you would sell her to another, or even keep her for yourself, you run the risk of losing more than you will ever make up again.”

”I tell you, sir, by the beard of my father, look not upon that woman.”

”Hum! Some defect perhaps!” thought Yffim to himself, and he beckoned to the girl to let down her garment. She immediately complied, and, standing up, stripped her light mantle from her limbs.

Ah! how the Beg's eyes sparkled. He half believed that what he saw was not human, but a vision from fairy-land. The damsel's shape was as perfect as a marble statue carved expressly for the altar of the G.o.ddess of Love, and the silver hoop encircling her body only seemed to be there as a girdle in order to show how much whiter than silver was her body.

”Curses on your tongue, vile chatterer!” said Yffim Beg, turning upon the chapman. ”Here have you been wasting an hour of my time with your empty twaddle, and hiding the beauties of Paradise from my gaze. What's the price of this damsel?”

”Believe me, sir, she won't do for you.”

”What! thou man-headed dog! Dost fancy thou hast to do with beggars who cannot give thee what thou askest? I come hither to buy for Ha.s.san Pasha, the Governor of Buda, who is wont to give two thousand ducats to him who asks him for one thousand.”