“Mademoiselle, the Um-ul-Pasha is intending something. It is not poison this time; I wonder when we shall know what it is! Did you hear my grandmother say to Mdlle. Katrina as we came away, ‘When the wife of the Balio Bey comes, see that she is admitted when no other visitors are present’? So you will hear all about it from the Mother of Teeth.” “You know that I have told you not to speak of Lady Haigh by that name, Bey,” said Cecil, severely. “The wife of the Balio Bey should always be mentioned with respect.” Sir Dugald Haigh was the Balio Bey, the word being a corruption of _bailo_, the title of the Venetian Ambassador to the Porte in the middle ages, and the name spoke volumes to every inhabitant of Baghdad, so that Azim Bey submitted to the correction meekly. As he had prophesied, Cecil heard from Lady Haigh a full account of her interview with the Um-ul-Pasha when they next met, on the occasion of Queen Victoria’s birthday, which fell close after Bairam that year, and on which all the English in the region kept holiday. Cecil spent the day at the Residency, as it had been carefully specified in her agreement with the Pasha that she should do, and she did not feel at all averse from a short return to civilised dress and English society. Lady Haigh told her the story in the evening, when they had a few minutes to spare before the arrival of the guests for the dinner-party which was _de rigueur_ on the occasion. “I have simply laughed over it ever since, my dear,” said Lady Haigh; “but I must tell it you quickly, or these people will be coming. Put in plain language, the Um-ul-Pasha is willing to give you a handsome outfit and dowry if you marry at once, just as if you were one of her own favourite attendants.” “And was any particular gentleman indicated?” asked Cecil. “Certainly; it is Ovannes Effendi, the Pasha’s secretary. Nazleh Khanum put the case very plainly from her own point of view. She said that you had evidently failed to get married in your own country, or you would not have come out here, and that you were wretchedly thin, and had no idea of improving either your eyes or your complexion. As for Ovannes Effendi, she said that he was in a good position, and would make a kind husband. He was also a Christian--she laid great stress upon that point of suitability--and could be trusted to marry thankfully any lady the Um-ul-Pasha might be pleased to recommend to him.” “And what did you say?” asked Cecil, laughing.