steadily the respect in which she was held; but she was considered mad as
Gordon. So delighted had Ismail been by a quiet, personal attack she
made upon him, that without malice, and with an obtuse and impulsive
kindness, he sent her the next morning a young Circassian slave, as a
mark of his esteem, begging her through the swelling rhetoric of his
messenger to keep the girl, and more than hinting at her value. It
stupefied her, and the laughter of Cairo added to her momentary
embarrassment; but she kept the girl, and prepared to send her back
to her people.

The girl said she had no people, and would not go; she would stay with
"My Lady"--she would stay for ever with "My Lady." It was confusing, but
the girl stayed, worshipping the ground "My Lady" walked on. In vain My
Lady educated her. Out of hearing, she proudly told whoever would listen
that she was "My Lady's slave." It was an Egyptian paradox; it was in
line with everything else in the country, part of the moral opera boufe.

In due course, the lady came to hear of the English slave-owner, who
ruled the desert-city and was making a great fortune out of the labours
of his slaves. The desert Arabs who came down the long caravan road,
white with bleached bones, to Assiout, told her he had a thousand slaves.
Against this Englishman her anger, was great. She unceasingly condemned
him, and whenever she met Dicky Donovan she delivered her attack with
delicate violence. Did Dicky know him? Why did not he, in favour with
Ismail, and with great influence, stop this dreadful and humiliating
business? It was a disgrace to the English name. How could we preach
freedom and a higher civilisation to the Egyptians while an Englishman
enriched himself and ruled a province by slavery? Dicky's invariable
reply was that we couldn't, and that things weren't moving very much
towards a higher civilisation in Egypt. But he asked her if she ever