"
I replied, with involuntary astonishment. "Son of a hundred sheiks,
forgive my seemingly derelict hospitality. But I should have asked you
before this to go to the opera with us, if I had not thought that the
principles of your faith were opposed thereto. For you must know, O
Father of the Defenceless, that our women go there unveiled even as the
women of the people that you see on our streets, and that on the stage,
singers of both sexes indulge in open exaltation of that thing called
love, which your prophet has confined within the walls of the
_haremlik_."
Abu Nozeyr laughed. "Your knowledge of our customs, Harding Effendi, is
fifty years behind the times. True, I come from the desert, and have
never heard your singing women of the stage. But did not one of the
learned muftis at yesterday's evening repast declare that 'Aida' was
written for the Khedewi Ismail Pasha, may his soul rest in peace?"
"Yes," I said; "but you will understand, Dispenser of a Thousand
Mercies, why at first blush Islam and the lyric stage should strike me
as somewhat incompatible."
"Not modern Islam," he replied.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163