"
"I hate him--the coward!" exclaimed Mohammed. "I despise men who
prefer eating sugar with women in the harem, to mounting their
steeds and taking the field against the enemy, sword in hand."
"That will never be your preference," said Osman, regarding him
tenderly.
"No, never," protested the boy. "Women are good playthings for hours
of leisure, when a man has nothing better to do. But to revel, like
Cousrouf, in luxury--to hide himself while he might be attempting
deeds of heroism--to be dallying with women instead of mowing off
the heads of his enemies, that I cannot comprehend. It is repulsive
to me to think of a man's surrounding himself with women, and taking
delight in their caresses and soft words."
"It suits Cousrouf very well!" said Osman, smiling. "He spends the
greater part of his time in the harem. Singing, music, and
rejoicing, are the order of the day there. Black female slaves fan
him with fans made of peacock-feathers; others, on their knees, fill
his chibouque, while he reclines on his cushions, smoking and
dreamily gazing at the beautifully-attired female slaves who dance
before him."
"And he," said Mohammed, "he, the vain man, imagines that they dance
and remain in his harem out of love for him!
"I suppose they make him think so. They say a woman's lips make a
lie sweet, and that her face always wears a mask! And yet" he
continued, looking dreamily toward the harem, "I must tell you,
Mohammed, I sometimes think I should be happy, too, and less
tormented with ennui, if one of these houris of paradise sat at my
side, chastely veiled, regarding me lovingly and I could look
through the white veil at the smile on her lips.
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