Invisible To Her,
I Made Every Effort, From My Hiding-Place Behind A Projecting Stall,
To Catch A Glimpse Of Her Face, But, Alas!
A yashmak was in the
way - not the thin gauzy wisp affected by the smart ladies of Cairo and
Constantinople, but a thick, impenetrable barrier of white linen, such
as the peasant women of Mohammedan countries wear.
Who could she be?
What was she doing-out unattended at this late hour?
I had almost given up all hope of seeing her features, when Fortune
favoured me. As the old Turk dived into the recesses of his shop to
attend to the wants of his fair customer, the latter removed her veil,
revealing, as she did so, one of the sweetest and fairest faces it has
ever been my good fortune to look upon. A perfectly oval face, soft
delicate complexion, large dark eyes full of expression, a small
aquiline nose, but somewhat large mouth, and the whitest and smallest
of teeth. Such was the apparition before me. She could not have been
more than sixteen.
I could scarcely restrain from giving vent to my admiration in speech,
when the old Turk returned. In an instant the yashmak was in its
place, and, with a hasty glance around, my vision of beauty was
scuttling away as fast as her legs could carry her. A low musical
laugh like a chime of silver bells came back to me from the dark
deserted alleys of the bazaar, and I saw her no more.
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