Читать книгу His Excellency's English Governess - Sydney C. Grier - Страница 5

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“Come in, come in,” said Lady Haigh, hospitably, leading the way into her sitting-room. “Well, Cecil, my dear (for I really must call you so), were you very much astonished at the sight of that formidable array? Wasn’t it just like Denarien Bey to make such a tremendous business of it? I suppose it’s his nature to like to have a great fuss about everything.”

“But hadn’t the Pasha appointed the council of selection?” asked Miss Arbuthnot.

“Not a bit of it,” laughed Lady Haigh. “Of course, for one thing, Denarien Bey was in a terrible fright. If Cecil turned out unsatisfactory, or if he bungled the business in any way, he might lose his head. So he gets together as many people as he can with whom to share the responsibility, so that he can put the blame on them if anything goes wrong, while some of them are too strong for the Pasha to touch, and the others are out of his reach. But it was simply a desire to make a great business of the matter which made him drag poor old Tussûn Bey here from the Embassy.”

“Yes; I could not quite see what he had to do with it,” said Miss Arbuthnot.

“Why, my dear Marian,” cried Lady Haigh, “he is the Pasha’s agent in the Embassy. Of course it is not called so. We say that he is ‘connected with the Pasha by old ties of friendship,’ but that only means that he is in his pay. He is originally and officially an ordinary secretary of Embassy; but his private and particular business is to watch over the Pasha’s interests, and warn him of any danger from his enemies here, either in the Embassy or in our own Government.”

“And all the other gentlemen, who were they?” asked Cecil.

“The Easterns were various Levantines and Armenians settled in London, also devoted to the Pasha’s interests. Some of them are in his pay, and some of them pay him. Of course what he gives them is called remuneration for services performed, and what they give him is called a present, or a tribute of respect, or something of that sort.”

“My dear Elma!” said Miss Arbuthnot, “I had no idea of the network of corruption into which you were leading us.”

“Corruption?” said Lady Haigh. “You might call it corruption in England, but for Ahmed Khémi Pasha it is really only self-defence. He knows that he is surrounded by spies and people who are longing to see him make a false step, and then report it at Constantinople, poor man! Of course I don’t defend his methods; I only say that from his point of view he has some excuse for them. His position is frightfully insecure. And that reminds me, you noticed the Englishman who watched over our conference just now?”

“Yes,” said Miss Arbuthnot and Cecil together.

“That was Mr Skrine, the Pasha’s banker, with whom Denarien Bey is staying. It is said that Ahmed Khémi invested £50,000 with him only last year, as a precaution, of course, in case he should be obliged to take flight.”

“But what is he afraid of?” asked Cecil; “has he done anything?”

“He has not committed any crime, if that is what you mean—not what is considered a crime in the East, at any rate. But he has committed the offence of existing, and of being the Pasha-Governor of Baghdad, and that alone makes him innumerable enemies. His reforms and his innovations have made him a good many more, and so the poor man has need of all the friends he can get to counteract their influence.”

“But can he trust Denarien Bey? Isn’t he an enemy?” asked Cecil.

“Denarien Bey stands or falls with Ahmed Khémi Pasha, as things are at present. He is too deeply committed to his cause to be able to dissociate himself from it.”

“But he is an Armenian,” objected Cecil, “and I thought the Armenians hated the Turks?”

“Theoretically, all Armenians hate and despise all Turks, and the Turks return the compliment with interest,” said Lady Haigh, “but practically they often find each other very useful. I daresay that Denarien Bey in his foolish moments, and when he is quite sure there are no spies about, talks of independence, and glorifies Holy Russia as the protector of the enslaved. But in everyday life he remembers that he is not a patriot hiding in the hills, with a long gun and a few rags for all his possessions, but a prosperous citizen, with a wife and family to support, and a reputation to keep up. I don’t know what might happen if a revolution really came, and seemed very likely to be successful. I fancy that Denarien Bey would find political salvation then; but for anything short of that, I think he will stick to the Pasha.”

“Lady Haigh, don’t you believe in any one?” Cecil’s tone was one of absolute dismay, and Lady Haigh laughed pleasantly.

“Not in many Armenians, dear, at any rate—or many Easterns, for that matter. I will give you a warning, Cecil. If you wish to keep your faith in human nature, don’t marry a consul-general in the East. When you have knocked about as much as I have, you will know what I mean. Of course there are exceptions. Ah! here is Denarien Bey at last. Now we can have lunch, and a really interesting talk.”

Cecil was still suffering under the shock caused by Lady Haigh’s want of faith in oriental human nature, and she was very silent at first. But the other two ladies kept up a brisk conversation with Denarien Bey, and presently she became interested against her will.

“Of what nation is the Pasha?” she asked at last, when the rest had been discussing the various reforms which his Excellency had lately introduced.

“It is very difficult to say,” replied Denarien Bey, meditatively. “I should think it probable that he has mingled Turkish, Circassian, and Egyptian blood in his veins. Nothing is known of his antecedents, but in Turkey we care little about that. When he first rose to distinction it was alleged that he himself did not know who his parents were, but he disproved the calumny by producing his mother, and installing her as the head of his harem.”

“And a most disagreeable woman she is too,” said Lady Haigh, with deep feeling. “I really don’t know a more intolerable person. It is a perfect penance to have to go and pay my respects to her, which is one of my official duties.”

“But why is not the Pasha’s wife the head of his harem?” asked Cecil.

“Which?” asked Denarien Bey, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“Oh, has he more than one? I thought he was an enlightened kind of man,” said Cecil.

“He had already two wives when he came to Baghdad,” said Denarien Bey. “You can suppose that his mother chose them for him, if you like, mademoiselle. But his third and favourite wife, the mother of Azim Bey, was an Arab, the daughter of the sheikh of the great Hajar tribe. So you see it is as well that there was some one to keep order in the harem, or the wills of these three ladies might have clashed.”

“But how can the Pasha choose Azim Bey to succeed him if he has two sons older than he is, as you said when we were in the other room?” asked Cecil.

“Not to succeed him, mademoiselle. Surely nothing that I said could have suggested to you such an idea? In Turkey we do not believe in hereditary honours, except in the case of the sovereign, and even then it is the eldest prince in the royal family who succeeds, not necessarily the eldest son of the late king, by any means. But with respect to a pashalik like that of Baghdad, any son of the present Pasha is the very last person on whom the Padishah would think of conferring it at his death. In one or two generations a clever family might gain the allegiance of the whole province, and succeed in detaching it from the empire. It would be the height of folly to permit such a thing. No, our young friend Azim Bey will be only a private person, or if he wishes for public office, he will have to make his way, like the sons of your own viceroys and governor-generals. Of course there will be many advantages on his side. He would have experience, friends, and plenty of money, which, after all, is the great thing with us.”

“Then how is he the Pasha’s heir?” asked Cecil.

“He will succeed to the bulk of his property,” answered Denarien Bey, “and that is by no means contemptible.”

“But what about the two elder sons?” asked Cecil.

“That is a long story,” said Denarien Bey. “The Pasha’s eldest son, Hussein Bey, was brought up by his mother and grandmother in retirement while his Excellency was struggling to his present position, and he grew up a very strict and bigoted Mussulman. Ahmed Khémi is, as you, mademoiselle, have heard, a man of liberal and enlightened opinions, and as soon as he sent for his household to Baghdad, trouble began. Whatever the Pasha did was bitterly opposed by his son, who was supported by the influence of the palace harem. At length things became so bad that Hussein Bey was banished, but he is still concerned in every plot which is set on foot by the more fanatical among the Moslems to get rid of the Pasha, and he hates, perhaps not unnaturally, his half-brother, Azim Bey. I believe that his mother and grandmother have some wild idea that he may be able, if properly supported, to depose his father and succeed him. Such a case has occurred once during the present century, but it is not in the least likely to be repeated, and they are not the right people to bring it about, in any case.”

“And the second son?” asked Cecil.

“Ah, the difficulty about Mahmoud Bey was of a different kind. His Excellency was much at Constantinople before he became Pasha, and while there he associated a good deal with certain members of the European colony at Pera, who were not, perhaps, altogether the best company he could have found. Among these was a Frenchman named Cadran, who acted as tutor to the young Mahmoud Bey, and made himself very useful to his father. When his Excellency came to Baghdad, M. Cadran accompanied him, and was even allowed to give French lessons to Naimeh Khanum, the Pasha’s eldest daughter, who was then very young. Suddenly it was discovered that he was trying to induce the young lady to elope with him, and was doing his best to gain her attendants over by bribery. Of course the fellow was sent off at once, and unfortunately, he was sent off so quickly that he was able to present a claim for damages. The French Government took up the matter, and the Pasha was forced to pay very heavily. Some time before, it had been arranged that Mahmoud Bey was to finish his education in France, and he was sent to the École Polytechnique. That was all very well, but when he had finished his course of study, he refused to come back. He was enjoying himself in Paris, with Cadran at his elbow, and his Excellency was in communication with the French Government on the subject, when the Bey died suddenly and all was ended.”

“And so Azim Bey is the only one left?” said Cecil.

“Just so, mademoiselle. Emineh[01] Khanum, his mother, was, as I have said, the Pasha’s favourite wife, and on her deathbed she induced him to promise to make her son his heir. That was just after Mahmoud Bey’s first refusal to come home, and his Excellency was so angry that he consented at once. But it was a foolish wish of the poor mother’s to see her son the heir, for his brothers became incensed against him immediately, and he is a mark for the hatred of the whole harem. Now that his mother is dead, there is no one to protect him, and the Um-ul-Pasha (mother of the Pasha) and the other two wives hate him for the sake of the two elder sons. His Excellency has been obliged always to take him with him wherever he went, and to keep him in the selamlik (the men’s part of the house), instead of the harem when at home, to save his life; but he finds that the Bey, from being so much with men, is growing precocious and conceited, and he desires therefore to obtain a governess for him.”

“But what made him wish for an Englishwoman?”

Denarien Bey smiled grimly.

“It is not easy, mademoiselle, to find ladies of other nationalities who combine the necessary qualifications. A Frenchwoman might have been obtained, but after what I have told you, you will not be surprised to hear that his Excellency would not allow a French person to enter the palace, much less to have the charge of his son. For the English, on the contrary, he has the highest admiration, and would have liked to send the Bey to be educated at one of your great public schools. The desire, however, of keeping him under his own eye, and the fear of a repetition of his experience with Mahmoud Bey, induces him to prefer this method, if it can be found practicable.”

Shortly after this Denarien Bey took his departure, after again expressing his earnest hope that Cecil would see her way clear to accepting the post offered her. When he was gone, Lady Haigh rose.

“Come, Marian,” she said to Miss Arbuthnot, “you and I are going to do our shopping. You promised me the whole day, you know. Cecil is going to sit down and write a glowing description of the situation the Pasha offers her to her father, and say how much she longs to take it.”

“But I don’t in the least think that papa will let me go, Lady Haigh,” said Cecil, waiving the remark about her personal wishes.

“If he won’t, he is a much more foolish man than I think him,” replied Lady Haigh, in her most uncompromising manner; “and I shall consider it my duty to write him an urgent letter of remonstrance.”

“When you go back, Lady Haigh,” asked Cecil, suddenly, “shall you go to Beyrout and Damascus and then across the desert to Baghdad?”

“When we go back, my dear Cecil,” corrected Lady Haigh, impressively, “we shall go by the P. & O. to Karachi, then by another steamer to Basra, and then by another to Baghdad. I am not an adventurous young lady disposed to be sentimental over Bedouin wanderers, and I have no wish to go through unnecessary hardships, nor yet to be captured by insurgent Arabs and held to ransom, and so I fear that you will have to be content to accompany the steady-going old woman by this humdrum route.”

“But I am quite sure that papa will never let me go,” repeated Cecil, confidently, with a sigh that was not all of sadness.

For æsthetic reasons she would be sorry not to see Baghdad, but everything else seemed to combine to make her dread going there. She was so strongly convinced that her father would share her feelings, that she gave herself a great deal of trouble in trying to compose a letter to him which should be scrupulously fair, and place all the advantages of the situation in their proper light. The letter once written and sent off, she felt quite at ease in her mind, and was even disposed to mourn gently over the chance she was losing. It was Miss Arbuthnot, and not Cecil, who betrayed excitement when Mr Anstruther’s answer arrived, and waited with bated breath whilst it was opened.

“I am sure he won’t let me go, Miss Arbuthnot,” Cecil had said, smiling, as she took up the envelope; but on glancing through the letter she uttered a cry, and looked up with a piteous face of dismay.

“Oh! Miss Arbuthnot, he wants me to go—at least, he says that it seems a most excellent offer, and he is coming up to town early to-morrow morning to see about it and to talk to you.”

“Well, my dear, it only confirms the high opinion I have always held of your father’s judgment. I expected he would say just this.”

“It only shows how dreadfully I must have failed at home if papa is so anxious to send me away,” said Cecil, on the verge of tears.

“My dear child, if you will only look at things in a sensible light instead of determining to make yourself out a martyr, you will remember that Mr Anstruther is probably thinking only how much you could help with the boys’ education.”

But Cecil refused to be consoled, and her only comfort lay in the hope that Mr Anstruther would find the post unsatisfactory when he came to look into its conditions a little more. But she was out when he arrived, and he was ushered immediately into the presence of Miss Arbuthnot and Lady Haigh, who both assured him that Cecil was an extremely fortunate girl to have such a chance.

“You see,” said Miss Arbuthnot, “Cecil has done so very well that an ordinary situation as governess or High School mistress is not to be thought of for her. But here is an almost unique post waiting for her acceptance in which she may do work which might well be called making history. It is true that she must bind herself for five years or so, but this is less of a drawback in her case than in others. I do not myself think that she is likely to marry—at any rate, not early—for she is a little fastidious in her tastes,—not that this is to be regretted, but rather admired.”

Mr Anstruther almost blushed when he heard his daughter’s future thus candidly discussed. It had not occurred to him to regard marriage in the light in which it appeared to Miss Arbuthnot—as a kind of devouring gulf which swallowed up the finest products of the female education movement—and it seemed to him indelicate to estimate probabilities so openly. But both ladies were so evidently unconscious of Miss Arbuthnot’s having said anything improper that he quickly recovered his composure and listened undisturbed to Lady Haigh’s exposé of the advantages of the scheme. The consequence was that when Cecil came in her father’s last doubts had been removed, and he was ready to bid her God-speed in her enterprise.

“Oh! Miss Arbuthnot, must I go?” she asked despairingly, when Mr Anstruther had hurried off to catch his train for Whitcliffe, and Cecil and the principal were at tea in the latter’s sanctum.

“That is for you to decide,” answered Miss Arbuthnot.

“That is just what papa said,” wailed Cecil; “but I don’t want to decide.”

“That means that you don’t want to go to Baghdad?” said Miss Arbuthnot.

“I want to go if it is right,” said Cecil; “but how am I to know whether it is right? Don’t you think it seems like going into temptation?”

“Temptation of what kind?” asked Miss Arbuthnot. “Temptation to become a Mohammedan, do you mean? No, my dear Cecil, I cannot honestly say that I think the side of Islam you will see at Baghdad is likely to attract you to it.”

“Now you are laughing at me,” said Cecil, reproachfully.

“Dear child, I want to help you. If you feel that there is a work to be done in Baghdad, and that you are called to do it, go; if not, stay at home.”

“But I am not to have anything to do with Azim Bey’s religious education. Denarien Bey said that the Pasha would look after that.”

“You can show him a Christian life, and you can exercise a Christian influence,” said Miss Arbuthnot. “You have the honour of England and of Christianity in your hands, Cecil, and it will be your work to remove prejudice and to set an example of honesty and incorruptibility.”

“But how am I to know that it is my work?” asked Cecil again.

“Cecil!” said Miss Arbuthnot, more in sorrow than in anger, “do I hear one of my girls talking like this? This work is offered to you, and you doubt whether it is meant for you. Your father, considering you a reasonable being, leaves the decision to you, and you will not decide.”

“But I had so much rather he had told me outright either to go or to stay,” pleaded Cecil. “I can’t bear deciding for myself.”

“Timidity again, Cecil. So far as I can make you out, you are convinced that you ought to go, but you want to stay.”

“I do really want to do what is right, Miss Arbuthnot, but it feels so dreadful to be going so far away from every one.”