“The lady wishes to go out? Shall I accompany her?” cooed the old woman, who was hovering near.

“No. I go alone!”

“I had better accompany the lady.”

“No, I tell thee!”

The lady stamped her foot, when the duenna shuffled off, wagging her head forebodingly and mumbling.

“How absurd!” thought Barakah. “Haven’t Yûsuf and the Pasha told me twenty times that women, in the kind of shroud they make us wear, can go anywhere alone without attracting notice?”

When the carriage came⁠—a hooded one⁠—she sallied forth, correctly veiled, escorted by Ghandûr, who, seeing no one with her, asked leave to mount the box beside the driver. She gave it, feeling sure that the old woman was watching the departure through some upper lattice. Ghandûr sprang up with a delighted grin, quite rigid with the pride of high preferment.