On the following morning Mrs Langley set out on horseback for the palace of the cadi, to attend the wedding of his daughter with Sidi Omar, and, true to her promise, turned aside on the way to pay a visit to the imprisoned bride of Rais Ali.

 

She was accompanied, of course, by the remarkable bridegroom himself, and also by her husband’s janissary, Sidi Hassan, as well as by her daughter Agnes, who rode a spirited Arab pony.

 

Immediately on entering the gate of the city, Rais and the ladies dismounted, and leaving their horses in charge of a groom, ascended on foot one of the narrow streets of the town. So steep was this street that it consisted of a flight of broad steps, which led ultimately to the casba, or citadel, at the upper part of the town. But before they had ascended it very far, the interpreter diverged into a cross street, which was much narrower. It terminated in a cul-de-sac, at the bottom of which stood the door of Rais Ali’s town residence.

 

And a remarkable door it was, made of thick oaken planks, studded with enormous nails, the heads of which were as large as a half-crown. Just above it there was a square hole grated with thick iron bars, which served to enlighten the gloomy passage within.

 

Applying the key before mentioned to this door, Rais threw it open and bade the visitors enter.

 

Having carefully shut and re-locked the door, the interpreter led them through a narrow passage, which terminated in the usual square court of Moorish houses. This was very small, and, like all such courts, had no roof, so that a pleasant gleam of sunshine flickered through the creepers which twined up its pillars and gleamed on the drops that fell from a tinkling fountain in the centre.

 

Entering an open doorway on the right of the court, the interpreter led the way up a flight of marble steps to the second storey of the house. A small gallery, such as one sees in public libraries in England, ran round the four sides of the building over the balustrade, of which one could look down on the leafy court with its ever singing jet d’eau. The windows of the several private, apartments opened upon this gallery.

 

In the centre of one side of the square was a large open doorway, in the form of a Moorish arch, by which entrance was obtained into a little extremely ornate apartment. The dome-shaped roof of this boudoir was lighted by four little holes filled with stained-glass, and the walls were covered with beautifully painted tiles. Rich ornaments of various Eastern and fanciful kinds were strewn about, and valuable Persian rugs covered the marble floor.

 

On an ottoman, in the centre of all, sat Rais Ali’s bride, cross-legged, and on a cushion before her lay the cat, her only companion.

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