Leylah Khânum and Gulbeyzah were the first to call and question her upon the strange performance. They asked point-blank why she had walked; and when she answered, “Just for exercise,” they eyed her in a way that showed they thought her mad. Then came the throng of mere acquaintances, not less curious, but infinitely too polite to ask a question; who watched for symptoms of derangement through the flow of compliments. The elderly princess, Amînah Khânum, alone showed understanding and some sympathy.

“My dear,” she said, “you’ve set the parrots talking. Do you know that ‘durrah,’ which means fellow-wife, means parrot too? Bear that in mind. Their tongues!⁠—They fail to comprehend. They think you are bewitched or mad. For me, your conduct was entirely natural. But I fancy you will give up walking here in Egypt. Were not your clothes a mass of dust beneath your habbarah? Whenever you are in a difficulty, come to me. I have some jurisdiction, and I wish you happy.”