"
This was the substance of a translation of my address tinged with
Mahomet's colouring, as being more adapted for the ears of a
slave!I My wife was present, and being much annoyed, we both
assured the woman that Mahomet was wrong, and I insisted upon his
explaining to her literally that "no Englishman could hold a
slave; that the money I had paid rendered her entirely free; that
she would not even be compelled to remain with us, but she could
do as she thought proper; that both her mistress and I should be
exceedingly kind to her, and we would subsequently find her a
good situation in Cairo; in the meantime she would receive good
clothes and wages."
This, Mahomet, much against his will, was obliged to translate
literally. The effect was magical; the woman, who had looked
frightened and unhappy, suddenly beamed with smiles, and without
any warning she ran towards me, and in an instant I found myself
embraced in her loving arms; she pressed me to her bosom, and
smothered me with castor oily kisses, while her greasy ringlets
hung upon my face and neck. How long this entertainment would
have lasted I cannot tell, but I was obliged to cry "Caffa!
Caffa!" (enough! enough!) as it looked improper, and the
perfumery was too rich; fortunately my wife was present, but she
did not appear to enjoy it more than I did; my snow-white blouse
was soiled and greasy, and for the rest of the day I was a
disagreeable compound of smells, castor oil, tallow, musk,
sandal-wood, burnt shells, and Barrake.
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