Cairo where there is no day but one long night, had lived to
learn the truth of the lesson. Yet she was not surprised that
this was so; for Zahara did not understand herself. Her desires
were so simple and so seemingly natural, yet it would appear that
they were contrary to the established order of things.

She was proud to think that she was French, although someone had
told her that the French, though brave, were mercenary. Zahara
admired the French for being brave, and thought it very sensible
that they should be mercenary. For there was nothing that Zahara
wanted of the world that money could not obtain (or so she
believed), and she knew no higher philosophy than the quest of
happiness. Because others did not seem to share this philosophy
she often wondered if she could be unusual. She had come to the
conclusion that she was ignorant. If only Harry Grantham would
talk to her she felt sure he could teach her so much.

There were so many things that puzzled her. She knew that at
twenty-four she was young for a French girl, although as an
Egyptian she would have been considered old. She had been taught
that gold was the key to happiness and that man was the ogre from
whom this key must be wheedled. A ready pupil, Zahara had early
acquired the art of attracting, and now at twenty-four she was a
past mistress of the Great Craft, and as her mirror told her,
more beautiful than she had ever been.

Therefore, what did Agapoulos see in Safiyeh?

It was a problem which made Zahara's head ache. She could not
understand why as her power of winning men increased her power to