Early that morning, Gulbeyzah had shown Barakah her future lodging⁠—five rooms within the women’s portion of the house, but self-contained, and with a private door to the selamlik. She had beheld a salon hung with mirrors, full of gilded chairs and tables; and then the nuptial chamber, the bed with silken bedclothes, much too good to use, beneath a canopy of cloth-of-gold embroidered. Four monstrous candles placed around the bed looked ceremonial, and the perfume of rare flowers reminded her of English death-rooms.

The vision of that room oppressed her now as she sat idle, feeling like a wooden image, and met the criticizing stare of strangers who perfunctorily blessed her. At first Gulbeyzah stayed with her and played interpreter. Murjânah Khânum came and kissed her, praying: “May the crown upon thy brow inure thee to the burden of responsibility, may the rich robes and the throne foreshadow honour for thee; may the ordeal of long stillness teach thee patience and long-suffering with dignity. May all our blessings and our prayers today secure thee fruitfulness, and mayst thou live to see thy children’s children flourish round thee. Our Lord preserve thee ever in His grace. Amîn.”