poured forth lakes of Oriental poesy, an interview was arranged. I
have no need to tell you with what throbbings of the heart the
Tarasconian prepared himself; with what carefulness he trimmed,
brilliantined, and perfumed his rough cap-popper's beard, and how
he did not forget -- for everything must be thought of -- to slip a
spiky life-preserver and two or three six-shooters into his pockets.

The ever-obliging prince was coming to this first meeting in the
office of interpreter.

The lady dwelt in the upper part of the town. Before her doorway
a boy Moor of fourteen or less was smoking cigarettes; this was the
brother in question, the celebrated Ali. On seeing the pair of
visitors arrive, he gave a double knock on the postern gate and
delicately glided away.

The door opened. A negress appeared, who conducted the
gentlemen, without uttering a word, across the narrow inner
courtyard into a small cool room, where the lady awaited them,
reclining on a low ottoman. At first glance she appeared smaller and
stouter than the Moorish damsel met in the omnibus by the
Tarasconian. In fact, was it really the same? But the doubt merely
flashed through Tartarin's brain like a stroke of lightning.

The dame was so pretty thus, with her feet bare, and plump fingers,
fine and pink, loaded with rings. Under her bodice of gilded cloth
and the folds of her flower-patterned dress was suggested a lovable
creature, rather blessed materially, rounded everywhere, and nice
enough to eat. The amber mouthpiece of a narghileh smoked at her
lips, and enveloped her wholly in a halo of light-coloured smoke.