You have, doubtless, seen plenty of pictures on the subject of "Dreams of Happiness." There is a delightful garden, at the bottom of which stands the temple of Love; the figures, handsome young men and handsome young women, are always found reclining. Well, if you exclude from such a picture details somewhat too academic for Ferouzat, you may see me on the grass, enjoying the fresh air with my houris lying down around me, in the charming abandoned attitudes of young nymphs who have never heard of such a thing as stays, but display in bold relief the well-rounded forms of their beautiful and lissom figures. I had passed my arm round Zouhra's neck; she, with a fond look, rested her head against me, and Hadidje imitated her on the other side. I began to talk to Kondje-Gul, the sole interpreter of my amours. You may guess how curious I was to learn their thoughts. I questioned her about the events of the morning, and what they had been saying to each other. Directly she replied, I learnt that when they first got up there was, as the result of their mutual confidences, a general astonishment. But Mohammed explained everything, by telling them that "such is the custom in the French harems." This explanation was sufficient for them. You may be sure I did not contradict such a flattering assurance. "Well then, you like my country," I said to her; "and they are all content that they have come here?" "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, "especially since we saw you! Mohammed had led us to believe that you were old. We feared we were about to enter upon a dull and formal existence. So you may imagine how delighted we were when you arrived, and he told us our master was you! At first we could not believe it, but as he had let us appear unveiled, we were constrained to admit that he had not deceived us. And then, when I heard you speak to him--I understood all. Immediately I repeated to them your words, and how that you found us handsome." "And so," I replied, "I may believe you really love me? And do _they_ also?" She looked at me with an astonished air, as if this question conveyed no meaning to her. "Why, of course; since you are kind, affectionate, and nice to us!" The others listened attentively without understanding a word; their handsome eyes wandered from Kondje-Gul to me, and from me to Kondje-Gul, with an indescribable expression of curiosity. "But _you_," she replied after a moment, "is it really true that you mean always to love us all, one as much as another, as you have done to-day?" "Certainly," I replied with assurance; "this is the custom in our harems, as Mohammed told you. Does not that please you better?" "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, "but we always thought that you Franks never loved more than one woman." "That's what they keep saying in Turkey, to injure us, and out of jealousy, because we do not ordinarily marry more than one wife, to whom it is our duty to be faithful."