The Fortieth Door

ll pier glass she stood indifferently, one hip sagging to the despair of the

ustling tops of palms, from which the yellow date fruit hung, and beyo

," the woman entreated through a mouthful of p

ape," the woman chirped, sitting ba

n outstanding knob of hair on the other. Into that knob the thin locks were so ti

ained his distaste for thrift, Mrs. Hendricks had resumed her old trade, and had become a familiar figure to many fashionable Turkish harems, slipping in and out morning and evening, sewing busily away behind the bars

, whose face had the beauty of chiseled marble and the same quality of cold perfection. This was Madame de Coulevain, teacher of French and

France with a handsome captain of Algerian dragoons; after a certain matter at cards he had ceased t

s, then for his funeral expenses, and then of continuing to pay for the li

he little one required so much. Her daughter was no dependent upon charity. And in Cairo madame had a clientèle, she commanded a price. And so for the child's sake she taught and saved, conc

for nearly nine years in the palace madame had maintained her courteous and tactful supervision. Indeed, it was only this la

Mrs. Hendricks, and in French to Aimée she added, with a hint

said the girl dutifully, bringing

and now for the sash-shall we 'ave it so-or so?" she

stuff and spread it curiously across her fingers. A dinner gown.... When she wore this she would b

days

tenderness to him. Only this numb coldness, this dumb, helpless certainty of a destiny abou

mistress, her eyes glistening fondly, her dark fingers touching a soft fold of silver ribbon, while under her breath she chanted in a croon like a lullaby, "Beautiful as the dawn ... she will wa

native village, an old love song tha

e Coulevain displayed interest only in the packages. If she saw the stiffening of the girl

confidence, and for all the young girl's charm she had never taken her to her heart in the

e found a bitter contrast to the lot of that lonely child in France. Certainly there was nothing in Aimée's life then to invite compassion, and later, d

tible march of destiny for her charge, she overlooked the youthf

olding up a pin, and, examining the card. "

p the pin but the girl w

le the dressmaker was unfastening the frock, aided by Miri

is wrapped in cloth

ening circle at her feet, and with regard

!" she said

thin, bronzed face and dark hair where a tilted cap sat rakishly ... memories of

cloth lay a jeweler's case and within the

tand. Her own face-her own face smiling back. Yet unfamiliar, tha

adame shared

cry of recogniti

mother! Eh, those bright eyes, that long, dark hair

enchwoman, but half understanding the nurse's r

, fearful of the tell-tale color in her cheeks. "Bu

as warning h

the purchases for to-morrow's work, and madame moved towards the hall with her

arkened by those fine-wrought screens of wood. Swiftly she thrust the box from sight, into the hollow in t

red toward the west. The sky was flushing. Broken by the circles, the squares, the m

om a nearby minaret came rising

llah Mohammedun

ahomet is the Prophet of God ... From farther towers it sounded, echoing and re-ech

ahé ill

to market, were removing their shoes and going through the

illa

was ringi

ing, had passed down the hall. In the next roo

! I testify that there

bowing towards the east, th

above them a girl

th resounding whacks the Arabs were urging on their beast; Miriam, her prayers concluded, was shaking out silks and

rk eyes. She could not see the note, crushed convulsively against the beating breast,

gave the facts which the pasha admitted and the ingenious explanation of the two Aimées. And for reference

the strain of too-excessive gratitude. A man cannot be continually humble before the young! And it was no ple

dship! To make sad eyes and draw a mouth because one is to be the wife o

ness to escape the pangs of that uncomfortable self-reproach. To Aimée, in her new clear-sighte

ng, too cruelly involved, to feel for his easy humors that amused tolerance of larger acq

her eyes, and then, like lightning, it lit up the world with terrify

tance. How could she know? Intuitively she shrank from any question to the pasha, realizing the folly and futility of exposing her suspicio

own her mother and Miriam was the pasha's slave. But the old woman was unsuspe

"Dadi," said the girl, in a faint voice, "am I truly like my mother?" and when Miriam had finished her fond protestation that they were

I was little-when first

e which Allah-Glory to his Name!-had ma

id Aimée, in a

ous admission the old woman would destroy it, feigning some

question to slip into the old woma

m was murmuring. "Her beauty ha

r years only, was it not," ventured Ai

Miriam's brush

red, "but tears I remember," and

ad Delcassé child, she dared not refer to it, lest Miriam tell the pasha. But how

all as strange and startling as a tale of Djinns. And the life that it held out to

nd when at last, after endless waiting, the murmuring old palace was safely still and dark, she stole down the sp

hest corner her fingers explored the hole, pushing furiously against the earth. And

empty. The