What Dreams May Come
WHAT DREAMS MAY COME. THE OVERTURE. Constantinople; the month of August; the early days of the century. It was the hour of the city's most perfect beauty. The sun was setting, and flung a mellowing glow over the great golden domes and minarets of the mosques, the bazaars glittering with trifles and precious with elements of Oriental luxury, the tortuous thoroughfares with their motley throng, the quiet streets with their latticed windows, and their atmosphere heavy with silence and mystery, the palaces whose cupolas and towers had watched over so many centuries of luxury and intrigue, pleasure and crime, the pavilions, groves, gardens, kiosks which swarmed with the luxuriance of tropical growth over the hills and valleys of a city so vast and so beautiful that it tired the brain and fatigued the senses. Scutari, purple and green and gold, blended in the dying light into exquisite harmony of color; Stamboul gathered deeper gloom under her overhanging balconies, behind which lay hidden the loveliest of her women; and in the deserted gardens of the Old Seraglio, beneath the heavy pall of the cypresses, memories of a
their khan, and did not appear any more till they were gone. They
sought for me all over the city; but not finding me, supposed
remorse for having come to Egypt without my father's consent had
occasioned me to return to Damascus, without saying any thing to
them. So they began their journey, expecting to find me at
Damascus, and there to take me up.
After their departure I continued at Cairo three years, more
completely to indulge my curiosity in seeing all the wonders of
Egypt. During that time I took care to remit money to the jewel-
merchant, ordering him to keep my house for me; for I designed to
return to Damascus, and reside there some years longer. I had no
adventure at Cairo worth relating; but doubtless you will be much
surprised at that which befell me on my return to Damascus.
Arriving at this city, I went to the jewel-merchant's, who
received me joyfully, and would accompany me to my house, to shew
me that no one had entered it whilst I was absent. The seal was
still entire upon the lock; and when I went in, I found every
thing in the order in which I had left it.
In sweeping and cleaning out the hall where I had eaten with the
ladies, one of my servants found a gold chain necklace, with ten
very large and perfect pearls strung upon it at certain
distances. He brought it to me, when I knew it to be the same I
had seen upon the lady's neck who was poisoned; and concluded it
WHAT DREAMS MAY COME. THE OVERTURE. Constantinople; the month of August; the early days of the century. It was the hour of the city's most perfect beauty. The sun was setting, and flung a mellowing glow over the great golden domes and minarets of the mosques, the bazaars glittering with trifles and precious with elements of Oriental luxury, the tortuous thoroughfares with their motley throng, the quiet streets with their latticed windows, and their atmosphere heavy with silence and mystery, the palaces whose cupolas and towers had watched over so many centuries of luxury and intrigue, pleasure and crime, the pavilions, groves, gardens, kiosks which swarmed with the luxuriance of tropical growth over the hills and valleys of a city so vast and so beautiful that it tired the brain and fatigued the senses. Scutari, purple and green and gold, blended in the dying light into exquisite harmony of color; Stamboul gathered deeper gloom under her overhanging balconies, behind which lay hidden the loveliest of her women; and in the deserted gardens of the Old Seraglio, beneath the heavy pall of the cypresses, memories of a