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I was frightened, I do not know why. The place was a strange
one, it is true, and looked lonely, notwithstanding its rich hangings
and the soft glow of the lamps--indeed, these accessories added to,
rather than detracted from its loneliness, just as a lighted street at
night has always a more solitary appearance than a dark one. It was
so silent in the place, and there lay Billali like one dead before the
heavy curtains, through which the odour of perfume seemed to float up
towards the gloom of the arched roof above. Minute grew into minute, and
still there was no sign of life, nor did the curtain move; but I felt
the gaze of the unknown being sinking through and through me, and
filling me with a nameless terror, till the perspiration stood in beads
upon my brow.
At length the curtain began to move. Who could be behind it?--some naked
savage queen, a languishing Oriental beauty, or a nineteenth-century
young lady, drinking afternoon tea? I had not the slightest idea,
and should not have been astonished at seeing any of the three.


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