And in the midst of them all the beautiful
Sultana, with the silver heron's plume in her turban, whose stem flashes
with sparkling diamonds. Her glorious figure is protected by a garment
of fine lace, scarce concealing the snowy shimmer of her well-rounded
arms. She sits upon the tiger-skin saddle of her haughty steed like an
Amazon. The regard of her flashing eyes seems to proclaim her the tyrant
of two Sultans, who has the right to say: "I am indeed my husband's
consort!"
In front and on each side of the fairy band march four hundred black
eunuchs, with naked broadswords across their shoulders, looking up at
the windows of the houses before which they march to see whether,
perchance, any inquisitive Peeping-Toms are lurking there.
Dancing and singing, this bevy of peris traverses the principal streets
of Stambul. Every now and then, a short sharp wail or scream may be
heard round the corner of the street the procession is approaching: the
eunuchs marching in front have got hold of some inquisitive man or
other. By the time the radiant cortege has reached the spot, only a few
bloodstains are visible in the street, and, dancing and singing, the
fair company of damsels passes over it and beyond. Scarce anyone would
believe that those wails and screams did not form part and parcel of the
all-pervading cries of joy.
Meanwhile in the Etmeidan a much more free-and-easy sort of
entertainment is taking place. The women of the lower orders are there
diverting themselves in gaily adorned tents, where they can buy as much
mead as they can drink, and in the midst of the piazza on round,
outspread carpets dance the bayaderes of the streets, whom Sultan Achmed
had once collected together and locked up in a dungeon where they had
remained till the popular rising set them free again.
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