Victor, that you are a first-rate carver of
ivories. How is it that you have never let me benefit by your art?"
"My things are not worth a sou," muttered Cecil hurriedly.
"You do them great injustice, and yourself also," said the grande dame,
more coldly than she had before spoken. "Your carvings are singularly
perfect, and should bring you considerable returns."
"Why have you never shown them to me at least?" pursued Ben Arsli--"why
not have given me my option?"
The blood flushed Cecil's face again; he turned to the Princess.
"I withheld them, madame, not because he would have underpriced, but
overpriced them. He rates a trifling act of mine, of long ago, so
unduly."
She bent her head in silence; yet a more graceful comprehension of his
motive she could not have given than her glance alone gave.
Ben Arsli stroked his great beard; more moved than his Moslem dignity
would show.
"Always so!" he muttered, "always so! My son, in some life before this,
was not generosity your ruin?"
"Milady was about to purchase the lamp?" asked Cecil, avoiding the
question. "Her Highness will not find anything like it in all Algiers."
The lamp was taken down, and the conversation turned from himself.
"May I bear it to your carriage, madame?" he asked, as she moved to
leave, having made it her own, while her footman carried out the smaller
articles she had bought to the equipage. She bowed in silence; she was
very exclusive, she was not wholly satisfied with herself for having
conversed thus with a Chasseur d'Afrique in a Moor's bazaar.
Pages:
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478