FROM MISS BEATRICE POLES, TO MISS EMILY——
"Although thi& letter is dated 'Cairo,' do not imagine, my dear
friend, that I am going to describe that town. If you are really
anxious to see it through my spectacles, you have only to turn to my
letters of 1861, when I was assisting that most charming of all
charming travellers, Alexina Tinne, to arrange the expedition which
was to have reached the sources of the Nile, and in them you will
find a very detailed account of Egypt. Consequently, for some time to
come, you must not expect any geographical details. That part of
Africa where I now am does not count for anything—it is far too
civilized. The Nile merely recalls the Thames to my mind, and, as for
the streets of Cairo, they are to me just like the Strand. Africa,
eastwards, does not begin, in my idea, until you reach the latitude
of Khartoum. When we get that far, and not until then, I will give
you a bird's-eye view or two of the country. So, dearest, for the
present, let us put geography on one side, and come to purely
personal topics.
"You were rather angry with me, dear, were you not, on account of my
sudden flitting, my hasty desertion from our cosy evenings and the
tea which you know so well how to make, and my surrender of the
excellent position which your interest obtained for me with that dear
Mrs. Oxenford, to whom I send my warmest regards.
"I could not remain in a situation—the monotony is too much for me.
Nature, you may depend upon it, had some design in view when she gave
me such prolonged feet. They are ever beckoning the rest of my body
onward; and my other members, smaller and less self-asserting, have
nothing to do but obey. I verily believe that, if I were fool-hardy
enough to attempt any resistance, they would end by simply detaching
themselves, and setting out, unaccompanied, in search of adventure.
Consequently, as in that case I should lose, if not the most
becoming, at all events the most extensive part of myself, I prefer
giving way. Every being in this world obeys an irresistible impulse
of some kind. Many are guided by their head, which, not being weighty
enough, turns and twists in empty nothingness at the mercy of every
wind; others follow the dictates of their heart, and a pretty mess
they make of it. As for me, I obey my feet. They very often lead me
into terrible quagmires, but, as a rule, I get off with the loss of
my shoes.
"Well, see me once more on my travels. I have deserted you, dearest,
in the most shameful manner, have once more parted company with dear
old England—for, notwithstanding my faithlessness, I love her—and the
worst of it is that I have not the remotest idea whither I am bound.
I am to go somewhere, and that is all that either I or my feet care
about. They were beside themselves with joy, and frisked—nay,
positively twinkled to such an extent, that it was a treat to see
them. They are perfect beauties, I assure you, at such moments, and
out-do themselves in expression.
"All the information I had was that I was wanted for another journey
to Africa. But what part of Africa? And with whom was I destined to
travel? What would be the component parts of the expedition? Should I
be mixed up with geologists, astronomers, naturalists, zoologists,
hydrographers, ethnologists, ideologists, ornithologists, or
ethnographers? For expeditions, worthy the name, are made up of all
those elements; they are the real stock-in-trade of a caravan.
"On my arrival in Paris, after presenting my letters of introduction
to Madame de Guéran, I asked her to present me to the scientific
members of the expedition, and she, to begin with, introduced me to a
little doctor, who, in the sweetest voice imaginable, said—
"'Miss Poles, I have far more confidence in your experience than in
my own diplomas. If we are ill, you are the one to take care of us,
and I resign my functions into your hands.'
"'And, in that case, what are you going to do?' I asked.
"'I shall devote myself to natural history,' was the reply.
"And, so saying, he looked me up and down with an air of the greatest
curiosity, as if I were some specimen in spirits of wine in a bottle.
"My next introduction was to a literary individual, and a very good-looking
fellow into the bargain.
"'Miss Poles,' he commenced, 'I hear that you have been a prisoner
with the Thouaregs, and I hope you will do me the favour of
recounting to me your adventures whilst in the midst of that
whimsical tribe. I should like to work them up into an article for
the "_Revue de France_.'
"'Certainly not, sir,' said I, horrified, 'certainly not. The bare
idea of having every detail of my life held up to the public gaze
revolts me.'
"'Pardon me, if I have been indiscreet,' was his reply. 'I thought
yours was merely a case of ordinary captivity.'
"'And, I, sir, never said it was not.'
"'My dear Miss Poles,' went on this impudent little animal, 'if I had
only known that—'
"'Once more, sir—'
"'Not a word. Miss Poles, not a word. I will not ask any more
questions.'
"Truly, these Parisians are unbearable. Judge for yourself. The last
individual presented to me was a M. de Morin, a painter. Without
giving me time to put my hair straight, or arrange my dress, or
strike an attitude, out came his pencils, and in I went into his
album.
"The likeness is good enough, I must confess; but I detest those
sketchy productions which cannot possibly give any idea of womanly
attractions. Fortunately, however, M. de Morin has promised me a
portrait in oils, in which he will do his best to reproduce my smile
and the brightness of my eyes.
"You know, dearest, that I am not given to illusions, and that I know
exactly what value to place on myself. I am not what is called a
pretty woman, but I have in my expression, in my look, a certain
softness, a mellowness, in fact, such as the Spaniards term
_morbidez_. A Thouareg Chief said to me one day—but I will not
expatiate on these details. You know them, and we will keep them to
ourselves.
"At first, as you will have guessed, this expedition did not inspire
me with any great amount of confidence. The doctor did not want to
have anything to do with medicine, the literary man wanted to pry
into my private life, and the painter, instead of reserving his
pencils for African curiosities, sketched me in déshabille.
"Well, my dear, I was mistaken. These people are originals,
certainly, _fantaisistes_, as they call themselves; humourists, as we
in England should call them; but they are very nice, and in reality
very much in earnest. I think I shall get on with them, if they will
only keep from being jealous of each other about me. The fact is—why
should I try to hide it from you, the faithful depositary of all my
secrets?—the fact is, I am afraid that all of them will make love to
me.
"Already M. de Morin has bestowed on me some tender glances, whose
meaning there is no mistaking, and I shall need all my tact,
circumspection, and reserve, and plenty of the last. I have made up
my mind to favour no one of the three, and so I trust that the
expedition may pass over without any regular proposal.
"And, besides, I can rely upon Madame de Guéran for protection
against any annoyance. These three gentlemen, but especially the
painter and the literary man, are her slaves, body and soul. I
thought at first that they were in love with her; but as I now see
that they do not pay her a single compliment, but reserve all their
attentions and flirtations for me, I am obliged to come to an
opposite conclusion.
"And I am very glad to think that there is no chance of rivalry
between the Baroness and me, for it would be very painful to me to
wound in any way so thoroughly genial a woman. I am delighted to give
her her due, for she is a high-minded, good-natured creature. Neither
is she by any means deficient in firmness of character and resolute
courage—in fact, she reminds me very much of that dear Miss Tinne,
both as regards her beauty, her independence of character and her
love of adventure. But I shall feel very much safer with the Baroness
than I ever could with Alexina, who was a little too eccentric, poor
dear, and involved us in adventures which I, for one, do not care to
have repeated.
"But, here I am lingering over my chat with you, dearest, and all
this time these men are calling out for me. Poor fellows! They are
just like souls in purgatory if I am away from them for a moment."