And so she settled down, and from this time, the early days of May,
until when in June she began her journey the countess, with no other
protector than old Sitt Trusim, as her bent and shriveled landlady, who
proved to be the most capable of spies, was called, lived the life of
a Syrian woman of the upper class, wearing the native dress, smoking
the nargileh, studying Arabic diligently and always dreaming of what
would happen when she was alone with her camels and the Arabs under the
desert stars.
The pages of the journal she kept during those months are reminiscent
of "Kismet" and the "Thousand and One Nights," for where the countess
willed to go she went, regardless of whether it was precisely safe
to do so or not. And adventures she had in plenty. For while keeping
nominally in touch with her European acquaintances on the hill of
Sahiye, outside Damascus, she found her chief delight in wandering
through the bazaars and the quaint streets of this enchanted city of
minarets and in riding on horseback through the surrounding country in
the cool of the evening. Once while thus doing she was attacked, as she
had been warned she would be, by a couple of robbers, who possessed
themselves of all the money she had, but missed her small Browning
pistol, which, Bedouin fashion, she carried in her riding boot, and
with this she eventually cowed them and made her escape.
It was soon made plain to the countess that all her movements were
painstakingly reported to the Turkish authorities, though the Vali,
or Governor, consistently posed as her friend. She had by no means
agreeable experiences, too, owing to the jealousy of certain Syrian
families, whose pressing invitations to various ceremonials she had
been obliged to decline, while accepting those of others and immensely
enjoying the impressive and occasionally screamingly funny rites which
she witnessed as their guest. One of these hosts of hers, by the
way, was the proud possessor of the only bath in Damascus. More than
one attempt was made to lure Countess Molitor to places where it was
undoubtedly intended to ill-treat if not actually to make away with
her. I will let her tell of one of these plots.
"To-day Sitt Trusim brought me a letter addressed in unknown
handwriting. Before opening it I asked her who brought it. She tells
me that a man delivered it, whom, after questioning him, she found out
to be deaf and dumb. I read the letter, which was an invitation from
a lady asking me to visit her and her daughters this afternoon. She
complained that I had given preference to her friends by visiting them,
and said that she would send her man-servant to bring me at 5 o'clock.
I don't know why this letter aroused my suspicions. Perhaps on account
of the mysterious deaf and dumb messenger.
"I sent for Vadra Meshaak (a friend's dragoman) to come to me,
and showed him the letter quite carelessly, without mentioning my
suspicions. He at once declared that it was written by a man and not
by a woman and became very serious and angry, feeling sure that there
was some treason behind it. At 5 o'clock the man was to come and fetch
me. Well, he (Vadra) would dress up in my Arab costume, which in its
largeness covers the whole figure, and go with the man and find out who
the writer of the letter was. If it really was a woman he could explain
his disguise as a joke. But he absolutely feared foul play! So in the
afternoon we sent Sitt Trusim on an errand to the farthest end of the
town, and I arranged Vadra Meshaak to look like a Syrian lady.
"Punctually at 5 o'clock the mysterious deaf-and-dumb man knocked at
the door, and Vadra Meshaak opened it and went away with him. I had not
been alone a quarter of an hour till he was back again, all fury and
excitement. After he had calmed down a little I heard his story! He
had followed the man to a house in the inner court where three Turks,
very well known to Vadra Meshaak, were getting up to pounce upon him.
He did not leave them any time to talk, but gave each of them a heavy
blow in the face, and before they could realize what had happened he
had disappeared again.
"They must have thought me a very fine pugilist! What their intrigue
against me had been we shall never know. Vadra thinks that they
probably meant to keep me in their house by force over night and then
afterward report that I was a woman of no character and thus get me
expelled."
At the outset of the arrangements for the journey she was fortunate
in getting acquainted with an old Arab Sheik, Mahmoud Bassaam, who
had previously traveled with the Arabian lady explorer, Miss Bell,
and was known to be entirely trustworthy. He had spent virtually all
his life with the Bedouin and, as a camel dealer, had accumulated
what was regarded in the East as a large fortune; yet he consented to
accompany the countess (whose personal charm generally prevails, not
only with men, but with her own sex, too), and took charge of all the
arrangements for her journey, including the buying of camels and outfit.
"My idea," the countess writes in her diary, "is to join the Roalla
tribe at Palmyra and make friends with their Sultan, as they are one of
the greatest and richest tribes in all Arabia. Once friends with the
Roalla I intend to travel with them, move with them through the inner
deserts southward and, arrived south, I hope to be able to interest the
Sultan and induce him to cross the Ruba-el-Khali with me. Because I
think this is only possible for a great tribe, with all their herds of
camels and sheep. On my journey with him I shall try my utmost to fire
his imagination and to rouse his enthusiasm for the exploration of the
great desert."
As her dragoman, the countess had an American university graduate,
one Doctor Kahl, a Syrian, "well educated, serious and clever," who
also had spent many years with the tribes of Arabia, but who, when
introduced to the countess by Sheik Mahmoud Bassaam, had a lucrative
practice as a dentist in Damascus.