“The diversions of the women,” answered Pekuah, “were only childish play,
by which the mind accustomed to stronger operations could not be kept
busy. I could do all which they delighted in doing by powers merely
sensitive, while my intellectual faculties were flown to Cairo. They ran
from room to room, as a bird hops from wire to wire in his cage. They
danced for the sake of motion, as lambs frisk in a meadow. One sometimes
pretended to be hurt that the rest might be alarmed, or hid herself that
another might seek her. Part of their time passed in watching the
progress of light bodies that floated on the river, and part in marking
the various forms into which clouds broke in the sky.
“Their business was only needlework, in which I and my maids sometimes
helped them; but you know that the mind will easily straggle from the
fingers, nor will you suspect that captivity and absence from Nekayah
could receive solace from silken flowers.
“Nor was much satisfaction to be hoped from their conversation: for of
what could they be expected to talk? They had seen nothing, for they had
lived from early youth in that narrow spot: of what they had not seen
they could have no knowledge, for they could not read. They had no idea
but of the few things that were within their view, and had hardly names
for anything but their clothes and their food. As I bore a superior
character, I was often called to terminate their quarrels, which I
decided as equitably as I could. If it could have amused me to hear the
complaints of each against the rest, I might have been often detained by
long stories; but the motives of their animosity were so small that I
could not listen without interrupting the tale.”
“How,” said Rasselas, “can the Arab, whom you represented as a man of
more than common accomplishments, take any pleasure in his seraglio, when
it is filled only with women like these? Are they exquisitely
beautiful?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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