After that unbearable week of solitude the summons came to
her not all unwelcome, and the supreme thought of Ahmed himself
loomed up suddenly, bringing irresistible joy with it. A flame
passed over her cheeks; she caught the slave's skinny black hand
between her own rose-leaf palms.
"Yes, I will reward you," she murmured. "Dress me beautifully,
decorate me that I may find favour with Ahmed."
The slave laughed meaningly.
"Does the desert traveller burn and sigh after water, and then do
the springs of Damascus not find favour in his eyes?" she asked,
and laughed again as she approached Dilama, and began to undress
her. In a few minutes the whole of the haremlik was in a state of
pleasant excitement. The news of the dressing of the bride spread
into its furthest corners, and the women came to talk and jest, and
the servants fled hither and thither upon errands. Dilama was led
into the large general room, and there bathed from head to foot
with warm rose-water; while the others sat round and chatted
together, and admired her ivory skin, with the wild rose Syrian
bloom upon it, and her masses of gold-tinted chestnut hair. And the
black slave bathed and anointed and dressed her with the utmost
care and great self-importance, and sent the underslaves flying in
all directions, one to gather syringa, and other heavy-scented
blossoms from the garden, and another to fetch the jewels for her
neck; and as the attar of rose bottle was found to be empty, a
slave was sent with flying feet to the bazaar to purchase more; and
Dilama, excited and elated, surrounded by jest and laughter and
smiling faces, felt her youth leap up within her, and rejoice at
coming into its kingdom--love.
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